No holiday screams "¡México!" louder than Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), celebrated November 1–2 to honor departed family and friends.

The trappings of this annual event are familiar to anyone with knowledge of Mexican culture: carefully constructed altars overflowing with personalized ofrendas for the deceased, bright orange marigolds—la flor de muertos—sugar skulls, an infinite variety of flamboyantly adorned skeletons.

All of this and more is on offer in Mexico City. But here, the capital's metropolitan population seems just as excited about a different tradition, one newly arrived from north of the border: Halloween.

Against a backdrop of pastel papel picado and marigold petals, vendors hawk ghoulish rubber masks, witches' brooms, and face paint. On the metro, toddlers costumed as pirates, wizards, and warriors hold out tiny pumpkin pails to strangers, giggling at the clink of each deposited centavo. Saturday night at the Zócalo sees bands of goth-garbed teenagers posing for pictures in front of the cathedral.

It's hard not to notice that many of the Day of the Dead exhibitions filling the city's main plaza seem intended not only for celebration, but for education—whether describing the cultural importance and baking techniques of pan de muerto (the sweet bread traditionally prepared for the event), or elaborating on the holiday's pre-Hispanic roots.

Of course, el Zócalo isn't the only place in the capital to observe festivities. Down every calle of each colonia, in homes, hotels, restaurants, markets, museums, monuments, and—naturally—cemeteries, ofrendas are thoughtfully presented.

Whatever the connotations of the encroaching trick-or-treat mentality, it's obvious that even here in the heart of the mega-metropolis, Día de los Muertos reigns supreme.

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More scenes from this year's Día de los Muertos in Mexico City can be found on my blog Wayworded.