Well, 2018 got off to a jolly start with the rollicking Año Nuevo parade put on by neighbors of  Ajijic’s west end Barrio de Tecoluta.

Saturday, January 20 the fun-making will migrate to the upper part of the village where the Barrio de San Sebastián throws a celebration honoring its patron saint, an all-day affair that gets every household involved in an intoxicating, mirthful mix of religious and secular activity.

The festivities start at dawn when the truly devout trot off to at the Rosario Chapel at the plaza to retrieve an antique statue of Saint Sebastian for placement in a modest shrine at the corner of Emiliano Zapata and Marcos Castellanos in time for the 7 a.m. celebration of mass.

Afterwards, tables and chairs are set up in the street for a breakfast of menudo (tripe soup) dished out free to all comers. A second communal meal is served around 2 p.m.

Neighbors congregate anew at 4 p.m. for a colorful procession to carry the cherished santo back home. The travel route runs east along Emiliano Zapata, turns down Javier Mina to cross the highway and doubles back to the plaza via Guadalupe Victoria.

Masked Sayaca dancers lead the cavalcade, pitching out handfuls of flour and as they chase down the gang of giggling youngsters who taunt them along the way.

With a marching band marking the beat, a string of floats follows, carrying a boy dressed to impersonate San Sebastián, neighborhood beauty queens of all ages and a representation of the ancient legend of the indigenous princess who once bathed in El Ojo del Agua, the nearby defunct natural spring where spurting waters made sounds that purportedly inspired the town’s name.

Husky men tote large clay pots filled with typical feasting foods and long boards laden with round loaves of tachihual, fresh from the neighborhood bakery. On this occasion the rustic breads are decorated with white frosting and red sugar sprinkle sweets, the traditional colors employed in remembrance of martyrs.

Upon arrival at the chapel, the Sayacas keep up their antics just outside while the saint is lovingly put back in his place. The throng then heads up Colon to regroup for the lively street party that ensues.

Homemade alcohol-laced ponche is dispensed from a carport to fuel up spirits as revelers ready for the Papaqui, a frenzied mock battle in which cascarones – decorated egg shells stuffed with confetti – are employed as weapons of mass diversion. The crowd mills about in anticipation until local matriarchs step up to the mike to sing an age-old song filled with droll references to San Sebastian. With that signal, the mayhem begins as everyone scrambles about joyously pelting one another with the eggs as long as the supply lasts.

Once the skirmish dies down, a live band cranks up for the street dance that will keep the barrio rocking deep into the night.

I try to catch this singular fiesta every year. It’s a good way to connect with the local folks while picking up good vibes generated by the unbridled hoopla embodied in the word Papaqui, a Nahuatl term meaning “get happy.”

Why it’s become associated with a twice martyred saint remains a mystery.