We arrived in Guadalajara in mid-August with my three-year-old grandson who remembers every detail of the trick-or-treating he did once, nearly a year ago.

As the days grew shorter and all he wanted to talk about was whether he should dress up as a bat, a black cat, or a superhero for Halloween, we knew we might have a problem on our hands.

We weren’t sure that Halloween was celebrated in Mexico.

The inflatable witches in the aisles of the local Walmart seemed to say yes, the internet said maybe, and our nanny, who has three young kids of her own, said no.

My grandson stomped his foot, said a resounding, “Yes!”, and informed us that he had decided on a Batman costume, which we ordered.

We held out hope that Halloween would be like so many other things we’ve sought out in Mexico – there to be found, just a little different than what we’re used to

We’ve sought out lunches at noon and dinners at six only to discover that, in Mexico, this puts us in the category of early birds.

I’ve discovered that my go-to snack of potato chips can be found most everywhere even though the chips often come with little packets of red sauce that I find confusing.

We’ve found Independence Day parades with flags and marchers, but without a single Shriner or politician handing out candy.

We’ve discovered that the lemons we couldn’t find at the market are actually the limes that we kept walking past, and that the hard tacos we liked at Taco Bell aren’t really tacos at all.

These discoveries kept us hopeful that we’d find Halloween here too.

At least until last week when I toured the historical murals in the Hospicio Cabanas and our guide explained why he was saddened to see the proliferation of Halloween celebrations in Mexico, fearing it to be a loss of the important tradition of the Day of the Dead.

There’s a line that’s sometimes hard to navigate as an expat when customs are different and you don’t fully understand the history behind the customs of the country you’re living in.

I couldn’t help thinking about the guide’s concerns and wondering if my own hope for Halloween was crossing a line.

But, ultimately, the question of Halloween in Mexico isn’t mine to decide. When a flyer came under our door announcing trick-or-treat hours, I was happy for my grandson.

Halloween night did prove to be a little bit different. Some kids said, “Trick-or treat.” Some said, “Queremos Halloween.” One neighbor set up a hot dog stand and handed out hot dogs. Another handed out fresh churros cooked to order in his front yard. Someone else gave sugar skulls to kids and adults alike.

Batman came home with a big smile and a pillow case full of candy, although much of it was spicier and a little different than what he’s used to.
He was okay with that and so was I.

I’ve even started liking a little red sauce on my chips.

Jeanne is a transplanted Illinoisian who arrived in Guadalajara hoping for siestas. She was sad to discover that siestas are a thing of the past, but is still finding lots to like about Mexico.