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Mexico's colonial gem honors every Catholic holiday, but nothing is as colorful or fun as the Festival de la Noche de Rabanos, a world-class Christmas family vacation.

Oaxaca is one of Mexico’s better-kept secrets. A center of craft and culture, it is, at first glance, an obvious mentor to New Mexico’s Santa Fe. Although we love visiting Fanta Se (as it’s known around my house), the interminable high style, high prices, and haute culture can be too much with children. In Oaxaca, it’s still real, with a strong Mexican and Zapotec Indian heritage, artisans creating exquisite black pottery, the region’s finest rugs, sophisticated folk art displayed in modern Outsider Art galleries, and several excellent, go-ahead-and-drink-the-water restaurants to suit even fussy young eaters.

The classic Zócalo, Oaxaca’s bustling town square lined with 19^th century neoclassic buildings, draws visitors from all over the world. The major Catholic holidays are celebrated with lavish religious pageantry at the Iglesia de Santo Domingo and the Catédral facing the Zócalo. Christmas is the most magical time to visit.

December 23rd. Noché de los Rábanos.

The legendary-amongst-travelers Night of the Radishes or rabanos, and what I mistakenly imagined was its Rose Bowl-style parade of radish floats, was what drew us to Oaxaca in the first place. In the much more interesting reality, the spectators parade, and the radish sculptures remain stationary! Midday, radish carvers from surrounding villages descend on the Zócalo to man their booths and begin assembling creations from root vegetables. There was also a large area set aside for children’s carvings, each one numbered for a later judging. The cafe tables and vendors that hog the outer perimeter of the Zócalo kept sculpture-admirers tightly packed around the booths, shuffling past slowly to inspect and photograph the carvings. Tables topped with balloons and birds crafted from local flowers add even more color.

Besides many classic scenes, such as the Nacimiento (birth of Christ) or Danza y Musica (Mariachi bands or figures doing folk dances), there were radish girls holding flowers, and even a marvelous Vendedor de Chapulines, a grasshopper seller. Since my husband ordered fried grasshoppers, a local delicacy, for lunch the day before, we were fascinated by these larger-than-life sculptures. Other sides of the Zócalo had cornhusk tableaux and scenes made of dried mums. I must note that some tourist families we spoke with (usually from smaller towns) were upset by the squash of crowds. We, used to the New York subway at rush hour and able to hoist our son up on shoulders, found it totally acceptable.

As part of the 10 days of festivities leading up to Christmas Eve, children sell dyed eggs filled with confetti. You are meant to buy some and smash them on each other’s heads for good luck. Candy and toys are also bought for children in full force. But, my son asks, “Where is Baby Jesus?” He asks repeatedly, because the gorgeous nasciamentos (crèches) seen in front yards, shop windows, restaurants and church naves each have an empty manger.

The answer will soon reveal itself.

December 24th. La Nochebuena.

Las Calendas (parades) tonight are streams of bands interspersed with dancing papier mâché giants whose arms swing in time to the music and marmotas, lovely translucent spheres lit from within and carried aloft on poles. Following behind are truck-mounted floats belonging to the major churches of Oaxaca.

On this night, each household carries their own Baby Jesus, following behind their church’s mariachis or float as the calenda winds its way through town, past the Zócalo and back to a Midnight Mass, where all will be blessed. There are little girls dressed as angels, finely-costumed adults carrying paper torches and tall candles, and spectators with spiral-coiled sparklers waiting for a light. It’s noisy, bright, and captivating, and a genuine Mexican ritual.