Before the queens are crowned, before the parades roll down the Malecón, before the Naval Battle fireworks, there is fire. Every year Mazatlán builds an effigy of whatever weighed on the public mood — a politician, an influencer, a feeling — and burns it. The carnival cannot begin until it does.

If you ever want to see a city fully surrender to joy, come to Mazatlán during Carnival. The Pacific sparkles. Banda music rolls through the streets. Sequins shimmer under stadium lights. One of Mexico's oldest carnivals, with a personality all its own and a 2026 theme that beats like a drum.

Twenty-three years after Randy lost touch with a friend in a Lovina village, we drove north with a photograph from 1993 and almost no hope of finding him. What happened on the second day is the part I still can't quite believe.

In 1993, after a hard divorce, Randy went as far from California as he could get and ended up in a Balinese fishing village called Lovina. Then he came home and lost it all — his wallet at the airport, and every way of reaching his new friends.