DAY OF THE DEAD. MEXICO. My home away from home for so long. Rich culture, colorful past, cordial community. And the language, my God, it's like music. I could listen to Spanish all day. One year in Puebla riding horses, another year in urban Guadalajara, absorbing the friendly people, the energy, the street noise, the bustle, the laughter, the hand on my waist in the crowded metro, the train pulling into Mexico City at midnight New Year's Eve, with the drunks hoisting their bottles and shouting (to me): Viva méxico, Viva estados unidos! And the honoring of ancestors on the Day of the Dead.