“This is Mexico,” the woman next to me said as we waited for the Mariachi Festival parade to start.

We were standing at a corner with a Domino’s Pizza on our left and a Starbucks on our right. People around us were wearing t-shirts and checking their cell phones.

From where I stood, there was little to remind me that I wasn’t in the Midwest waiting for a Fall Festival parade. But then the parade started.

And, unlike the parades of my Midwest, there were no politicians handing out candy, no car dealerships showing off their shiny cars and giving out candy, no Homecoming queens sitting on the back of convertibles while tossing candy, and no kids with bags expecting candy.

What there was was a history lesson, with mariachi musicians, Mexican hat dancers, a small boy spinning a lasso, and bands, baton twirlers and horseback riders, all in traditional dress. 

It was emblematic of every parade that I’ve seen here – devoid of commercialization or self promotion, celebrating instead the history and culture of the region. A parade that stood in stark contrast to the Domino’s Pizza sign that became the backdrop of most of my daughter’s photographs.  

I often think of Mexico as a study in contradictions. There is a modern mall a few blocks from our house, yet our trash is picked up by a truck with high wooden sides. There is a Walmart and a Costco a few blocks in the other direction, but you drive by at least a a half dozen Mom and Pop groceries to get there. There is new construction all around our neighborhood, but each new house gives a resounding nod to the traditional architecture of Mexico. There are parades that don’t give out candy.

“That was Mexico,” I found myself thinking on the drive home. A modern country that holds onto its past a little better than we seem to do in the United States.