Under a waxing moon, my group of 30 or so flowed through the tight alleyways, the callejones of Guanajuato, like a bubbling, singing river, led by our pied piper and his band of musicians, students from the University of Guanajuato, as part of what is known as a callejoneada (a word I can’t pronounce either).

Of all the great experiences that my traveling companion and I had on our trip to Guanajuato; tours, excellent museums, tucked-away hipster bars, and a free outdoor orchestra concert with a fabulous tenor, as we rode the bus back to Guadalajara, we agreed that this experience was the highlight.

For years s friend in Seville, Spain had told me about the tunas estudiantiles, a tradition still common in Seville and other Spanish towns that host universities. Centuries ago, university students in Spain serenaded to earn a few pesetas through their charm and friendliness.

Today, members of tunas play for fun and the camaraderie of fellow students. The senior member of a tuna is called a tunante. Members of the tuna play guitars and traditional instruments such as the bandurria. Their elegant livery is called a grillo, and together, it all transports you back to what partying must have been like a few centuries ago.

The Mexican version of the tuna, this callejoneada was a little like traditional Shakespearean theater. The leader of the callejoneada performs with a great deal of breaking of the fourth wall and interaction with the audience. Using similarly cloaked sexual innuendo, our tunante recounted the romantic stories of the balconies and alleys of Guanajuato. Also like traditional Shakespearian theatre, you’ll love the callejoneada even when you don’t speak the language and you’re not always sure what’s going on.

According to a study, the universal sounds at the margin of language are the heart of interaction. The tunante led us to sigh, groan and gasp in sonorously and in unison at appropriate points of the stories.  To give the tuna a distinctly Mexican feel, at intervals during our meandering, whenever we reached an open space, the musicians played short, beloved Mexican songs and led us to join in.  If you intend on doing any merry-making in Mexico, this is a song refrain you must know. Even Mexicans never tire of it. (It’s like certain Bruce Springsteen songs).

Ay, ay, ay, ay

Cante, no llores! (Sing, don’t cry)

Porque cantando se alegran (because singing gladdens us)

Cielito lindo, corazones. (pretty heart, more or less)

From: Cielito Linda 

At one point in our snaking through the alleyways, the musicians split the group between men and women, each taking their own path through the glowing, twisting pastel-colored cobbled paths. When the ladies reached an opening point on the stairs where they could sit, they could elect to buy a form of token. 

Fifteen minutes later the men rejoined us from the alley stage right, led crawling on the cobblestones, prostrating themselves to their loves to extend their tokens to them, to take them back. The romance in the air was so strong that a young man in the group bent his knee and proposed to his girlfriend right then and there. 

The experience concluded at the famous Callejon del Beso, the narrow spot where couples in attendance stood in line to kiss to be given seven years of good luck, according to the legend of the Callejon del Beso.

Legend of  the Callejon del Beso

The legend centers on lovers Carmen and Don Carlos. Carmen was isolated in society by her strict and jealous father. During an “escape,” she met a poor miner, Don Carlos. They fell in love.

Once the couple was discovered by her father, he threatened to send her off to a convent until she could be married off to an old wealthy Spaniard (of course) to augment the family coffers. Sequestered, she sent a message to her lover via her lady in waiting (dona de la compañía), telling Don Carmen of her father’s plans.

The callejones of Guanajuato are so narrow in places that a person could conceivably reach out from one balcony to the opposing balcony, Desperate, Juan Carlos asked about the town until he found out who owned the home across from Carmen’s, and purchased access to the balcony with gold from his work in the mines.

Stretched between balconies, the couple murmured their promises and plans until one day her father overheard them and burst into his daughter’s room and found them reunited. Outraged, the father stabbed his daughter in the heart. Mute with fear, Don Carlos fell to his lover’s side and delivered one last kiss. Several days later, unable to live without the love of Carmen, he leapt to his death from the main tower of the Mina de la Valenciana.

Recommendation if you go

Like any good theatre, the fun of the callejoneada depends on the charisma of the lead actors. Try to do a little research on Facebook by reading reviews. We had the pure luck of having Edwardo Aguilar, who carried us along with a wicked sense of humor and hysterical expressions. While Spanish helps, the mood is so infectious that if you attend, with or without Spanish you undoubtedly will follow the jest of the stories.

Guanajuato at night seems candlelit, and you will round many a corner to find couples kissing in the shadows. Laughter is a proven aphrodisiac. As the event concluded, couples lined up to kiss under the legendary balcony or evaporated like dreams, holding hands as they flowed back into the callejones of Guanajuato. Even if you go with a friend, like I did, it’s an experience not to be missed.

Related links:

This young travel blogger does a nice job of describing Guanajuato by day.

About the Author:

Kerry Baker is the author of a four books, including If I Only Had a Place, a guide to renting in Mexico, The Mexico Solution: Saving your money, sanity and quality of life by living in Mexico part-time, and The Lazy Expat: Healthy Recipes That Translate in Mexico, a cookbook for travelers, snowbirds and expats who want to maintain a healthy diet in Mexico