The Smell Hits You First
It’s the marigolds. Cempasúchil, they call them here — heaps of orange petals piled on every sidewalk, crushed underfoot, scattered in trails from doorsteps to altars to cemetery gates. The fragrance is heavy and green and slightly bitter, nothing like the flowers you’d buy at a grocery store back home. By November 1, the whole city smells like it.
Mexico’s Día de los Muertos falls on November 1-2, 2026, though in practice the preparations start days earlier and the energy lingers well past the second. UNESCO listed it as Intangible Cultural Heritage back in 2008, which sounds very official, but the reality on the ground is messier and more human than any designation suggests — families cooking in kitchens, kids running between graves with sugar skulls, someone’s uncle playing guitar badly at 2 AM.
The basic idea: the dead come back to visit. Not as ghosts, not as something to fear. They come home, and you set the table for them.
Building the Table
The ofrendas are the heart of everything. Every family builds one — on a table in the living room, against a wall, sometimes spilling out onto the sidewalk. There’s a structure to it, loosely: photos of the deceased on top, their favorite food and drink arranged below, candles, copal incense, and always the marigolds. But the details are personal. You’ll see bottles of Coca-Cola next to tequila next to a plate of mole. A pack of cigarettes. A toy truck for a child who died young.
The best ofrendas aren’t the most elaborate ones. They’re the ones where you can tell someone sat down and thought about what that person actually liked.
Public ofrendas appear in plazas, museums, and university courtyards, especially in Mexico City and Oaxaca. Some of these are genuinely impressive — multi-tiered installations that take days to construct. The ones at UNAM (the national university) tend to have a political edge, commenting on current events through the lens of death. Whether that appeals to you probably depends on your Spanish.
Where It Gets Loud
Mexico City’s Día de los Muertos parade along Paseo de la Reforma is the big spectacle — giant skeleton puppets called mojigangas, thousands of people in calavera face paint, marching bands. It’s worth seeing once. A few things to know: the parade is actually relatively new in this form, partly inspired by the opening sequence of the 2015 James Bond film Spectre. Traditionalists have mixed feelings about it. The older, quieter celebrations in smaller towns are arguably more authentic, though ‘authentic’ is a loaded word.
The Zócalo (main square) fills up with installations and stages. It’s crowded and loud and hard to move through, which is either the point or the problem depending on your tolerance.
Oaxaca does things differently. The comparsas — neighborhood street processions — wind through the city over several nights, with brass bands and mezcal and dancing. It feels more participatory and less like watching a show from behind a barricade. The sand tapestries (tapetes de arena) in front of churches are intricate and temporary — they get swept away after a day or two.
Pátzcuaro in Michoacán is the one that shows up in every travel magazine. The vigil on Isla de Janitzio involves families spending the entire night in the cemetery, surrounded by candles and flowers, waiting with their dead. It’s genuinely moving. It’s also become very touristy — boats packed with visitors shuttle to the island, and the atmosphere can feel more like a spectacle than a vigil. Go if you can, but manage your expectations. The cemeteries around the lake in smaller towns (Tzintzuntzan, Ihuatzio) are supposed to be less overrun, though I haven’t confirmed this firsthand.
Mixquic, on the outskirts of Mexico City, is another frequently recommended spot. The cemetery fills with flowers and candles, and the alumbrada (lighting ceremony) on the evening of November 1 is the main draw.
The Food Situation
Pan de muerto is everywhere — a soft, slightly sweet bread dusted with sugar, shaped with little bone-like decorations on top. Every bakery makes it for weeks leading up to the holiday, and quality varies a lot. The ones from established panaderías are worth seeking out; the mass-produced supermarket versions are fine but forgettable.
Sugar skulls (calaveras de azúcar) are more decorative than edible, honestly. They’re beautiful — hand-decorated with icing and foil — but they taste like pure sugar because that’s what they are. They’re meant for the ofrenda, not really for eating, though nobody will stop you.
The real food is whatever families cook for their dead. Tamales and mole are standard, but the specifics depend on the region and the family. In Oaxaca, you’ll find tamales wrapped in banana leaves. In Michoacán, corundas (triangular tamales). Street food stalls multiply during the festival — look for atole (a warm corn-based drink) and elote (grilled corn with lime and chili).
The Uncomfortable Logistics
Here’s what the pretty Instagram photos don’t show you: November is peak season, and prices reflect it. Hotels in Oaxaca can double or triple their rates for the last week of October through the first week of November. Mexico City is slightly better because it’s enormous, but anything near the Zócalo or Reforma will be expensive and booked out months ahead.
Flights to Mexico City tend to spike in late October. Booking through Trip.com at least two months out is probably wise — prices don’t get cheaper closer to the date. For Oaxaca, you’re either flying through Mexico City or taking the roughly six-hour bus from the capital (ADO bus line, first class is comfortable enough).
Crowds are real. The Mexico City parade draws hundreds of thousands of people. The Zócalo gets packed. Oaxaca’s centro histórico becomes difficult to walk through at night during comparsas. None of this is dangerous, but if you’re claustrophobic or traveling with small children, factor it in.
Cemetery etiquette matters. You are generally welcome to visit and observe — this is not a closed ceremony — but it is sacred space. Don’t step on graves. Don’t photograph families without asking. Don’t treat it like a theme park. Most families are warm and generous with visitors who show genuine respect, and some will invite you to share food or mezcal, which is one of those experiences you don’t forget.
For organized tours that handle logistics and cemetery visits, GetYourGuide has options in both Mexico City and Oaxaca. Not cheap, but they take care of transport and guide you through things you might miss on your own. KLOOK also lists some day tours and workshop experiences — face painting, ofrenda building, cooking classes.
Getting Around
Mexico City’s metro is cheap and functional. For the parade and Zócalo events, the closest stations are Zócalo (Line 2) and Bellas Artes (Lines 2 and 8), but expect them to be packed on November 1-2. Uber works well in Mexico City and Oaxaca. For Pátzcuaro, you’ll probably need to arrange private transport or join a tour — it’s about four hours from Mexico City by car, or you can fly into Morelia and drive from there.
Renting a car is an option if you want to hit multiple destinations. Europcar has pickup locations at major airports. Roads between Mexico City and Oaxaca include some mountain stretches that are slow going in the dark, so plan your driving hours.
Timing It Right
November 1 is Día de los Inocentes (for children who have died) and November 2 is Día de los Muertos proper (for adults). But the energy builds from around October 28, when markets start selling ofrenda supplies — marigolds, papel picado (cut tissue paper), copal incense, sugar skulls. If you arrive on November 1 thinking that’s when it starts, you’ve already missed the buildup.
The cemetery vigils happen overnight on November 1 into November 2. If you want to see Janitzio or Mixquic at their peak, plan to be there by early evening on November 1 and stay late.
Weather is generally mild — Mexico City sits at high altitude and November nights get cool, maybe 8-10°C. Bring a jacket. Oaxaca is warmer. Rain is unlikely but not impossible.
One more thing: check dates before you finalize travel. The parade date in Mexico City sometimes shifts. The core celebration on November 1-2 doesn’t change, but the big parade has been held on different dates in different years — sometimes the Saturday before. The Mexico City tourism office usually confirms the date by September.