Today was the main event for San Miguel’s beloved patron saint: more parades, more fireworks, more dancing, all on a grander scale than on preceding days. Dozens of indigenous groups descended on the centro in dazzling costumes. Aztec dancers with huge sprays of pheasant feathers bouncing from their headdresses; strange goatlike devils with long wagging tongues; small children in animal skins with painted faces; tableaus on flatbed trucks that portrayed the story of the Spanish conquest. Add the street vendors selling roasted corn and cups of fresh fruit, plus the crowds of Mexican families who arrived in San Miguel to celebrate the holiday, and the scene was truly a festival of the senses. It lasted all day and into the night.

One of the most impressive sights of the festival celebration is the ancient tradition of the voladores. The pole is very tall — 75 feet would be a conservative estimate — and one man plays a bamboo flute and drums on an impossibly tiny perch on the pole’s tip (no safety nets here, folks). Four other men make a breathtaking upside-down descent to the pavement by swinging on ropes tied around their waists, making 13 revolutions each (equalling 52, the number of weeks in the year) on the way down.

Val came down with a 24-hour flu and stayed home at the casa, in bed. But Mark, feeling adventurous, rose at 2:45 am to walk down to the centro for the incendiary kickoff of the festival weekend. In Mexico, fireworks can be a full-contact sport.

Halfway to the middle of town, Mark met another parade.

In the central square, a huge crowd had gathered. At precisely 4am, a hail of rockets launched from the parroquia came raining down on the crowd. Most sane people immediately dove for cover, but a group of about 50 men — some in big sombreros –danced wildly among the exploding fireworks.  The rain of exploding projectiles continued steadily for the next 45 minutes while simultaneously, on the opposite side of the square, the city launched even more fireworks skyward in response. Mark hunkered down behind a stone pillar, where he was shielded from most of the pyrotechnics.  This incoming rocket, however, hit pretty close to home.

From the Casa de la Cuesta, high on the hill,  Val could see the fiery glow in the vicinity of the centro. From that distance, it looked as if the city was on fire. When it was over, the charred remains of thousands of rockets demonstrated the intensity of the celebration.

The finale was the lighting of several large pyrotechnic displays, intricately created to represent a chalice, a cross, St. Michael and the Virgin of Guadalupe. They were wired to the big iron gates in front of the Parroquia.

This evening, as we walked to an opening reception at Bellas Artes, another procession was starting up in the centro. As the countdown continues toward the city’s biggest celebration, the feast day of San Miguel, a seemingly endless assortment of small churches parade their statues of the archangel through the streets.

We have found San Miguel to be a study in contrasts. Everything happens at its own pace. People enjoy life simply, but fully.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell which century you happen to be witnessing. Yet, three blocks (and 300 years) from this little procession, the opening reception we attended at Bellas Artes unveiled cutting-edge contemporary design within the walls of a colonial convent. It was a dramatic and beautiful collision of time and place.

Jewelry designers from throughout Mexico and beyond came to San Miguel this weekend for a competition and fashion show featuring their new works. The jewelry — fine silver, precious gemstones, innovative and detailed craftsmanship — was displayed in glass cases placed throughout the courtyard. We spoke with some of the young designers. Then we watched the fashion show, carried out to the beat of Mexican techno music. Cool!

Heidi’s friend, Lisa Simms, won the competition with a lavish piece from her Wearable Sculpture collection. Lisa’s studio is here in San Miguel.

Here’s a shot from the fast-moving fashion show.