I arrived an hour early to secure a parking space and claim a front-row spot for photos and notes. Spring training is over. The Blue Jays have headed north. The snowbirds have followed. Cinco de Mayo marks the end of festival season here in Dunedin. The next one does not begin until October.
It was a lovely evening—just like any other in our little coastal town. A sea breeze. Clear skies. The kind of night that reminds you why you live here.
And then, slowly, the locals began to trickle in.
The Crowd Gathers
After work. After school. Families arrived with folding chairs and blankets. Friends and neighbors filled Pioneer Park, settling in for a cultural show hosted by the one and only Tina of Casa Tina’s Restaurant.
She began by introducing herself. And then she told a story.
Tina and Javier’s Story
Back in 1984, in Miami, Florida, Tina was a waitress. Her future husband, Javier Avila, was a cook. They met in a restaurant, fell in love, married, and soon had their first child on the way.
They made a choice. Leave Miami. Find a more wholesome environment to raise their family. Lay down roots somewhere that felt like home.
They chose Dunedin.
Through hardships and labor of love, they raised their children and built a successful restaurant—one that just celebrated 34 years of hosting the Cinco de Mayo celebration for our community.
Tina took a moment to educate the crowd: Cinco de Mayo is not Mexican Independence Day. (That is in September, and Casa Tina’s will celebrate it then too, with specials and festivities at the restaurant.)
She was honest about the scale of the event. It is a very large undertaking, she explained, involving her entire staff and local city resources. It is expensive to put on. But she and her family are grateful to do it for the community of Dunedin.
Then she introduced the young dancers who would be performing—explaining that each group would represent different states of Mexico, with different styles, different costumes, different traditions.
The Dances of Mexico
The show began.
The colorful costumes were like eye candy. I was so impressed by these young performers. They moved with precision, with joy, with a pride that filled the park.
One performance, in particular, stood out.
A group of dancers, dressed as old men with wooden canes and wide-brimmed hats strung with colorful ribbons, hobbled onto the stage. They moved slowly at first—shuffling, leaning on their canes, playing the part.
Then, suddenly, they burst into an energetic, almost playful dance. Stomping their feet. Twirling their canes. Moving with surprising agility.
This traditional dance is called “La Danza de los Viejitos” —The Dance of the Little Old Men. It is a joyful, humorous reminder to cherish our elders and celebrate life.
I took so many photos.
The Puppet Parade
Just as the sun began to set, the energy in the park shifted.
A procession began to form near Casa Tina’s. Giant mojiganga puppets—colorful, whimsical, larger than life—rose above the crowd. And leading the way, keeping time with every step, was the Tarpon Springs High School percussion ensemble.
Their drums echoed off the buildings. The rhythm was infectious. Children ran alongside the puppets. Adults pulled out their phones to capture the spectacle. The parade wound its way through the crowd, gathering people as it moved, until it reached the main stage.
It was dusk. The lights strung through the trees had just begun to glow. And waiting on the stage was Orquesta Infinidad—a 12-piece salsa band ready to play until 10 p.m.
Orquesta Infinidad
This was not just any local band.
Orquesta Infinidad is led by Pedro Bullaudy, a Cuban-born musician and bandleader who has served as the driving force behind the Tampa Bay area’s salsa scene for over 20 years . He has shared the stage with Latin music giants like Eddie Palmieri and the Fania All-Stars. His band has performed twice at the Super Bowl, at the Clearwater Jazz Festival, and in a Netflix film.
In 2018, Bullaudy received the Florida Folk Heritage Award, the state’s highest honor for folk artists, recognizing his role in introducing salsa to a wider Tampa Bay audience and establishing Orquesta Infinidad as a “cultural and musical icon” for the region.
On this night, in Pioneer Park, under the white lights and Mexican paper streamers, they did what they do best: they got the crowd moving.
The Dance Begins
The salsa band struck up their first song. The rhythm was unmistakable. Couples formed. Strangers became dance partners. Children twirled under the trees, their laughter mixing with the horns and the congas.
It was not a large crowd by spring training standards. But it was the perfect crowd for a Tuesday night in May.
Locals, mostly. Families. Neighbors. People who know that when Tina says she is putting on a show, you show up.
I stayed until the last song. Orquesta Infinidad played on. The dancers kept dancing. The lights swayed in the breeze.
Until September
Tina reminded us to come back in the fall for Mexican Independence Day. I will be there with my camera.
For now, I have these photos. These notes. This memory of a night when a small coastal town gathered in a park to celebrate a culture that is not our own—but that we are lucky enough to share, thanks to a waitress and a cook who fell in love in Miami and chose Dunedin as home.
That is the real story of Cinco de Mayo in Dunedin.
Walk down the Pinellas Trail on any given morning, and you will see them—leashed, trotting beside their owners, tongues out, tails wagging. We have Yappy Hours at The Dunedin Smokehouse. We have dog-friendly 5Ks starting at HOB Brewing Company. We have Valentine’s Day fundraisers at Woof Gang Bakery. In Dunedin, dogs are not just pets; they’re family.
So it should come as no surprise that when I learned about the legendary wolf at the heart of our Sister City connection, I paid attention.
The Wolf That Saved a City
More than 1,200 years ago, in the 9th century, the town of Stirling—then a small settlement under Anglo-Saxon rule—faced an invasion under the cover of darkness. Vikings crept up the crag, preparing to raid while the townspeople slept. But they did not count on the wolves.
According to the legend, the invaders disturbed a pack of wolves sleeping near the rocky outcrops. The wolves began to howl—loud enough, fierce enough, to wake the entire town. The defenders roused themselves for battle, only to find the Vikings already fleeing, terrified by the very sentinels they had disturbed.
Stirling was saved. And the wolf became the city’s eternal symbol.
Photo courtesy of Stirling: Alive with Scotland — Culture Night Stirling Carnival of the Wolf
You can still see wolves throughout Stirling today—on banners, on buildings, and carved into the historic Stirling Jug from 1511 . Even the name “Wolf Craig”—the rocky outcrop where the wolves were said to be sleeping—remains on maps.
A New Celebration: Culture Night Stirling – ‘Carnival of the Wolf’
That ancient legend is getting a spectacular modern retelling.
On Friday, May 1, 2026, the city of Stirling will host its first-ever Culture Night Stirling, themed “Carnival of the Wolf“. For one incredible night, more than 26 venues across the city will come alive with over 40 free events—all celebrating Stirling’s spirit, creativity, and that legendary wolf.
Here is what visitors can expect:
Experience
Description
Live Music
A homecoming DJ set from internationally acclaimed Sam Gellaitry, plus headliners Fatherson and Katie Gregson-Macleod
Aerial Dance
Performances that transform unexpected spaces
Historical Tour
Stirling’s darker stories brought to life
Pop-up Arts
Theatre, cabaret, standup comedy, and drumming
Local Flavors
Local flavors at venues across the city
Participating venues include the Old Town Jail, Stirling Castle, the National Wallace Monument, Tolbooth Stirling, Stirling Distillery, and even the Thistles Shopping Centre.
And the best part? Every event is free (though some require advance booking).
Our Sister City Bond
This wolf legend is not just a story for Stirling—it belongs to Dunedin, too.
In 1964, the City of Dunedin invited Stirling to enter into a Sister City relationship, motivated by the fact that our town was originally settled by Scottish families. Stirling accepted, and for more than 60 years, the two cities have shared cultural exchanges, correspondence, and goodwill.
Today, that bond continues through art exchanges between the Dunedin Fine Art Center and the Stirling Smith Art Gallery & Museum, and trade exchanges between the Dunedin Chamber of Commerce and Forth Valley Chamber.
And now, we share a wolf.
A Personal Note
I have photographed dogs on the Pinellas Trail. I have watched them trot beside their owners at Yappy Hour, tails wagging, tongues out, living their best coastal lives.
Our four-legged friends bring us joy. But in Stirling, 1,200 years ago, four-legged friends saved an entire town.
This Friday, Stirling celebrates that legacy with music, dance, art, and community—the very same things we celebrate here in Dunedin, just with a different accent and a slightly older story.
If you can’t make the trip across the pond, raise a glass to our Sister City. And maybe give your own four-legged pal an extra treat.
On Tuesday, May 5th, downtown Dunedin transforms into a sea of music and color for the 34th Annual Cinco de Mayo Fiesta. From the rhythmic beat of the percussion parade to the unmistakable smell of authentic tamales, the energy is always electric.
I’ve been capturing this celebration for years, and this time, I’m bringing you along for the ride. Get ready for mariachis, giant mojiganga puppets, and enough salsa to keep you dancing until 10:00 PM.
Mark your calendars, bring your appetite, and stay tuned to The Suntropolitan for a deep dive into the full schedule! 🎶🌮🎺
Casa Tina’s Authentic Mexican Restaurant
Entertainment to Include:
Huevo Cosmico (Psychedlic Latin Folk)
Grupo Folklorico Mahetzi (Traditional Mexican Folk Dancing)
Wepa Salsa (Free Basic Salsa Lessons)
Orquesta Infinidad (12 Piece Salsa Band)
Puppet Parade Come join the parade, lead by the Tarpon Springs High School Percussion Ensemble (7:30pm)
The weather could not have been more cooperative. Clear skies. Temperatures in the low 70s. A cool breeze that carried the sound of bagpipes across the field.
On Saturday April 11, 2026, Dunedin celebrated the 58th annual Highland Games, and if you were there, you already know: this was not just an event. It was a homecoming.
Scottish descendants gathered from across the state. Vendors lined the village, clan flags snapping in the breeze. Athletes heaved, tossed, and turned. And the music—that unmistakable, spine-tingling sound of pipes and drums—filled the air from morning until late afternoon.
The Opening Ceremony
It began with honor.
Three flags rose over the field: the American flag, the Canadian flag, and the Scottish flag. The national anthems of all three nations were sung as the crowd stood in silence, watching local ROTC students march and hold the flags tall and proud.
Then came the pipe bands.
The adult band stepped forward first. The music was lark-like, soaring, and it gave me goosebumps. They played with a pride that felt centuries old. Behind them, families of clan marched, holding high the names of their houses. Then another pipe band—perhaps from a different town—joined the procession. Their tartans were bright and colorful. White shirts pressed to perfection. Young adults and underage players marched alongside their elders, keeping the tradition alive.
More family clans followed, their flags bearing names that stretched back across oceans.
It was ceremonial. It was moving. And it was pure Dunedin.
The Athletes
The games themselves were a display of raw strength and skill.
I moved between the fields, camera in hand, capturing:
Men’s Caber Toss – Logs flipping end over end, athletes finding that perfect balance point before the throw.
Men’s Hammer Throw – Steel spheres spinning through the air, the crowd gasping at each landing.
Women’s Caber Toss – Equal power, equal precision. The women commanded the field with authority.
Women’s Hammer Throw – Fluid motion, explosive release. A joy to watch.
Women’s Stone Throw – Ancient strength, modern athleticism.
Weight Toss – Over the bar, under pressure. Athletes pushing their own limits.
Every competitor gave their all. And the crowd—generous with applause—recognized effort as much as victory.
The Young Pipers
One of the most touching parts of the day was watching the young bagpipe players prepare for their competition.
Off to the side of the main field, instructors stood with students who could not have been older than twelve or thirteen. They practiced their melodies, fingers moving over the chanter, cheeks puffed with concentration. The sounds of bagpipers practicing—overlapping scales, unfinished tunes, sudden bursts of harmony—filled the air like a second layer of music.
Then, one by one, they walked to face the judging official. Some were nervous. All were brave.
The future of this tradition was standing right there, in pressed white shirts and colorful tartans, learning notes that their grandparents’ grandparents once played.
The Village
Between competitions, I wandered through the village.
Vendors sold goods from booths draped in clan flags. Woolens, jewelry, Scottish shortbread, and kilts of every pattern. People browsed, ate, and visited with neighbors they had not seen since last year’s games.
Scottish descendants wore their tartans with visible pride. Some had traveled from other parts of Florida—or other states entirely—to stand on this field and feel connected to something older than any of us.
The camaraderie was everywhere. Strangers became friends over shared clan names. Dogs in tartan bandanas trotted alongside their owners. Children ran between the tents, laughing.
A Personal Note
I have photographed many events in Dunedin. But the Highland Games feel different.
Maybe it is the music—bagpipes stirring something primal. Maybe it is the athletes—pushing themselves in sports that have not changed in centuries. Or maybe it is simply this: a small Scottish town in Florida, celebrating its roots with people who traveled from far away to stand here, on this field, and say: we remember.
I took notes. I took pictures. And I left with goosebumps still lingering.
Until Next Year
The 58th Dunedin Highland Games are over. But the pipes will return.
If you missed it, mark your calendar for next April. If you were there, you already know why this tradition endures.
