Aidet UlloaProfessor Quezada

Olvera Street Colors itself for Dia Del Muerto

All was gray. The gloomy sky. The concrete floor. The industrial buildings. The smog injected into the air by the city buses.

And then there it was.

In a small corner of downtown Los Angeles a spec of color could be seen. Colors so vibrant they could be seen from a mile away.

An old wooden sign read Calle Olvera.

As soon as we set foot on the red brick lined Olvera Street, we felt like we were transported back into time. It was a foreign land. It no longer resembled present day Los Angeles, but the very first street of the city of angels.

It didn’t take much time to notice Olvera Street’s rich Spanish history, culture, and tradition. The narrow block-long Mexican marketplace was lined with old structures, painted stalls, street vendors, cafes, restaurants, and gift shops.

Walking from vendor to vendor, I observed the same decorations displayed in all the shops. Colorful tissue paper cutout with elaborate designs hung all around. Sugar skulls decorated in glitter and bright colors on sale at almost every stand.

From Oct. 25 - Nov. 2 Olvera Street is in full celebration mode. The Day of the Dead festival colors Olvera Street, more so than it already is. A combination of tourist and locals flock to Olvera Street to part-take in and observe the celebration. This year my friend, Daniella Vidovich and I were among the many.

In the distance we could hear a flute, a drum, and a conch shell. It was Aztec music being played.

We made our way to the center of the plaza following the beat of the music. What we heard was a simple stereo, but what we saw was breathtaking.

Beautifully decorated altars honoring the dead filled the plaza. We made our way over to the first altar with its yellow carnation petals scattered decoratively all over the floor.

Pictures of passed loved ones adorned an altar. Candles with melted wax from being lit up days before flickered next to the photographs. An older gentleman stood next to us while admiring the altars.

His name was Ignacio Mendez. He was the guardian of the altars, at least until his lunch break.

He turned to us. “You know, candles show the souls their way to the altar and back to the dead world.”

“What purpose to the altars serve?,” I asked.

“It’s to make them feel welcomed, that’s why they’re filled with all their favorite foods and things,” Mendez said. It was true. Another altar was decorated with Mexican sweet bread, old fashioned Coca-Cola bottles, and packages of Kit-Kats.

A closer look revealed a baby bottle and a jar of baby food placed in front of a photo of an infant. It felt eerie for a second, but this was what Day of the Dead was about, to remember the souls of all those who have passed.

Later we walked to the front of the central plaza where a small crowd began to gather. Behind the commotion was Pixar Studios. They had set up a virtual reality experiment for the public to try. Vidovich and I volunteered to try it out.

Once we had the helmets on we found ourselves once again in a foreign land. This time the land of the dead based on Pixar's new animated movie, Coco.

“Aidet? Is that you? Oh my gosh!”, said a startled Vidovich.

“I see you! I hear you! This is so weird and cool! ...why are you a skeleton?” I said laughing

“Oh! Ah! I took off your head!” Vidovich said excitedly as we continued playing the virtual reality game.

“Welcome back to reality, your two minutes are up,” the demonstrator said as he took our helmets.

After all the laughs, it was time have lunch. We got in line to one of Olvera Street’s well known restaurants, La Golondrina Cafe.

Ten minutes passed. The line didn't move.

Twenty minutes passed. The line didn't move.

Thirty minutes passed. The line didn’t move.

We gave up. We joined the moving line at El Paseo Inn. A waitress dressed in a white flower embroidered blouse and bright red skirt asked us, “Would you like to skip the line and just take bar sitting?”

“Yes. That’ll work out perfectly, thank you!” I said. We were ready to eat.

As we followed the waitress we passed by yet another altar. This one was much smaller and placed in the front of the restaurant for all to see.

The restaurant lightning was dim. Much of the lighting came from the actual size street light in the middle of the restaurant and the many string lights that hung from it.

We sat at a high bar table that overlooked the restaurant. We observed groups of families enjoying a Sunday meal, children enjoying powdered sugar cookies as dessert and a waitress getting the table set up for the next party.

I glanced at the menu but I knew what I’d order. Menudo. The only way to judge how authentic a Mexican restaurant was by its menudo.

Just as fast as we ordered, just as fast our food was delivered. The waiter placed heaping bowl of hot steaming menudo and a stack of fresh hand-made corn tortillas in front of me.

Meanwhile Vidovich dug into her plate of chicken enchiladas, fried beans, and Spanish-styled rice.

As we exited the restaurant a waiter handed us Mexican wedding cookies. Rich cookies rolled in confectioners’ sugar resembling little snowballs that crumbled in your mouth in the most delightful way. They were special cookies used on days of celebration, like the day of the dead.

We continued on our stroll examining each shop. Some vendors sold Mexican candy, some colorful toy guitars, and others traditional Mexican clothing.

I stopped in front of a building that seem all too familiar. It was the Avila Adobe. A house I recognized from pictures on Olveras Street’s webpage. The website described the structure as oldest existing residence in Los Angeles made out of adobe brick.

The floors creaked with each step we took as we walked through the building. Each room left us in awe.

After exiting the Avila Adobe we smelled a sweet aroma in the air. I instantly knew what it was. A sweet fried-dough Hispanic pastry.

“Churros!” Vidovich and I said together.

The smell led us to, Mr. Churros, a Mexican restaurant known for its savory churros.

I got my hands on a cajeta (caramel) filled churro, Vidovich a first timer to filled churros enjoyed a chocolate filled one. That first bite was crunchy, warm, and extremely sticky all at once.

The runny caramel found its way everywhere, to my face, my hands, and even my camera. But in that moment it didn’t matter. What mattered was enjoying that fried happiness in the moment.

A while later, I checked the time. 1:10 p.m.

“We’re gonna miss the performance, it’s about to start!,” I reminded Vidovich who was in mid bite of her churro.

We rushed over to the gazebo in the central plaza as dancers appeared on stage.

Young girls dressed in traditional Mexican dresses covered the stage, their faces hidden by the sugar skull face paint.

They danced the traditional dances of each region of Mexico, from Jalisco to Veracruz. The dancers spinned, twirled, and stomped without missing a beat.

Once the performance was over Amy Navarrete, the dance instructor, and her students gathered around and took their bow.

“A typical day for the dancers includes warm-up exercises, technical step training, composition, and creative expression exercises. And most important of all fun,” Navarette said to me.

“A positive approach to this art form empowers members with knowledge and pride of their heritage,” she added.

Then a shadow covered the sun. I looked up only to see a tall skeleton like figure looming over me.

It was La Calavera Catrina.

Also known as Sergio Serdio, an actor and director from El Teatro del Barrio. He plays the role of La Calavera Catrina while performing the dance of the dead during Olvera Street’s celebration of day of the dead.

She stood taller than most basketball players. Dressed in a long flowy white gown she struck poses for the crowd that had gathered around her. An essential figure to the day of the dead, today she was like a celebrity.

Half a day wasn’t enough to explore every nook and cranny Olvera Street had to offer. Each celebration is a different experience. With all the sights, smells, and tastes, Olvera Street is definitely one that requires multiple visits throughout the year.

SideBarOlvera Street 845 N Alameda St. Los Angeles, CA 90012Open everyday 10 a.m. to 6-8 p.m. daily 10 a.m. to 8-10 p.m. weekendsAdmission free to public

Sources1. Web Information - Sergio Serdio- https://www.facebook.com/sergio.serdio2. Web Information - http://www.calleolvera.com3. Interview with dance instructor - Amy Navarette - navajovik@yahoo.com4. Interview with altar keeper - Ignacio Mendez - 323-752-4393

(The old Calle olvera sign)

(The old Paseo Inn Restaurant)

(Folklorico dancers performing the Jarabe Tapatio)

(La Calavera Catrina posing for visitors)