My new place in Barrio Xochimilco is right on the street, without any easement to buffer the street noise. Every day is a sound garden of vendors and loudspeakers. Fortunately at night it mostly dies down and what sounds there are to hear are masked by the ceiling fan and/or air conditioner.
Some sounds are welcome and others not. I like the human voices announcing some items like water or ice cream. Other vendors ring bells or blow whistles. But when they graduate to loudspeakers I get irritated as you’ll see in the video. A blogger, Philipe Zapata who became a naturalized Mexican citizen, remarked on the Mexican sense of quiet saying they “are like children, making noise just because they can.” I have to agree. Right now, the whole barrio is making noise for the festival of St. Thomas. Fortunately, I’ve moved downhill from the main nose making center so we just hear the skyrockets.
Anyway, we just returned from an outing up in the hills immediately north of the city into a neighborhood called San Felipe del Agua, a place my father visited 25 years ago. Once out of the city proper, we were in the realm of the comundad, in between a community and a commune. They didn’t let us go farther up in the hills. People are generally a little on edge with the striking teachers. We saw a baby donkey and stopped. It came up to the car then, not seeing any dining opportunities, walked away. I got out of the car but it ran to its mother, tied to a rope under a tree. The mom approached then quickly turned to present her weapons package, so I decided not to move any closer.
We found a wonderful pizzaría featuring a Oaxacan chef who learned the trade working in a Cheesecake Factory in the states. Two-for-one beers and complimentary mezcal shots had me pretty relaxed by the end of the meal.
Some time I’ll get on here and talk about the teacher strike and all.
But for now…sweet mezcal dreams….