During lunch on November 1st, I announced to FBF “Oh! C’est la dia de los muertos!”
He looked at me rather confused and said, “Quoi?” (What?) as he doesn’t speak Spanish.
I used my excellent translation skills and said, “La journée des morts? The day of the dead.”
“Ah, oui, je sais,” (oh, yes, I know) he replied. I was confused at first how someone who had never taken Spanish would ever learn about the day of the dead, but apparently France and Mexico have this day in common. Although in Mexico it is a much bigger deal and involves cool skeletons (at least from what I gathered in high school Spanish), in France November 1st is also a day of remembering loved ones who have passed on.
That afternoon, FBF’s sister came to pick us up, and we went to the cemetery. It was beautiful. The sun was setting, turning the sky a pinkish orange, the air was cool and crisp, and upon every tombstone there lay several bouquets of flowers. We placed some flowers on the graves of FBF’s family members, I stood around awkwardly, and then we were on our way back home.
Although I wasn’t sure how to act, I think it would be nice if we followed up our day of parading about in costumes with a day of remembering the family members who are no longer with us.