Ever notice how expats have a penchant for sharing “expert” knowledge about living in Mexico, sometimes no sooner than they finish unpacking their bags here? 

Well, I was gob-smacked by a recent Facebook post where one know-it-all commented: “Most Mexicans celebrate Halloween.” Preposterous! Not true here in lakeside’s multi-cultural society and less so elsewhere in the country.

That’s not to say there aren’t local entrepreneurs who cater to their expat clientele by hosting costume parties at popular water holes, and any number of Mexican inhabitants who get a kick out of joining the fun. But a majority of Ajijic’s native-born people mark October 31 by joining the special festivities held in tribute to Virgin of the Rosary.

On a broader scale, many among the nation’s populace seriously frown upon Halloween, viewed as the incursion of a foreign holiday that smacks of gringo consumerism and, some say, Devil worship, which detracts from cherished Día de Muertos traditions. Never mind that the ancient roots of Halloween are deeply entangled with those of the Christian commemoration of All Saints and All Souls Day.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not advocating a ban on south-of-the-border Halloween happenings. To each his own. But I do have a personal aversion to the increasingly common practice among foreign residents of handing out Trick-or-Treats to local children.

First off, I’m put off by bands of little nippers roaming around neighborhoods bellowing ¡Queremos Jalogüin! ¡Queremos Jalogüin! Yeah, it’s only one night of the year, but the ruckus is annoying and I’m just not comfortable encouraging youngsters to believe it’s cool to beg from “rich” foreigners.

Plus, there’s no rational reason to feed candy to Mexican kids. They load up on plenty of sugary stuff all year round just from piñata loot collected at birthday parties and Christmas season posadas.  In the old days, piñatas were filled with goodies that had nutritional value: oranges, tangerines, limas, tejocotes, jicamas, sugar cane stalks and peanuts. Nowadays, the content is mostly junk that rots little teeth and contributes to Mexico’s alarming incidence of diabetes.

In truth, the real reason I became a Trick-or-Treat Scrooge goes back many years when my own children were still well under the age of ten. We had stocked up on lollipops and other candies to offer tots who came knocking at our front gate.

I noticed that some of our little visitors looked suspiciously like the ones who had come by minutes earlier. Hmm, I wondered, are we dealing with repeat offenders? Still, my offspring were having a great time until one greedy monster snatched the entire bag of treats from my son’s hands and dashed off into the darkness.

And that was that. The next year we posted a sign reading: “Esta casa festeja Día de Muertos. Nos vemos en el panteón.” Ever since, we lock the gate, turn off the lights and shelter inside, ignoring the incessant calls ¡Queremos Jalogüin!