There is a common misconception regarding roosters.

It is a belief based on stories and fairy tales; one that dictates roosters only ever crow at the dawn.

It seems, that at least here in Mexico, the roosters failed to get that memo.

Here, they certainly cock-a-doodle-doo at dawn, but also at dusk, dark and everything in-between. Perhaps they are set off by the emergence of the first star, the changing of the tides or a barking dog, who, it must be mentioned, also have their own timetable permanently tuned to random.

However, these are Mexican roosters, and, in this country, there is a firm belief in sharing.

For instance, if you love musica ranchera, it is assumed that everyone around you must want to hear it at full-volume too.

If you have a radio in your car (and can you imagine any Mexican without a radio in their car?!?), or in front of your store, strapped to your bicycle or simply held in your hand, it is obvious that you will enhance everyone’s enjoyment of their day if you provide the full glory of your choice by tuning the dial to full-on.

Besides, without these loud soundtracks, how else will you know if the gas man is bumping down your rocky street or if the vegetable guy has a special deal on carrots?

A few days ago, we heard a live band. They were, of course, very loud. The sound was coming from a few blocks away, so we followed it to its source, a trick that didn’t take much detective work.

We came upon seven men ranging in their thirties to fifties. They played two trombones, a guitar, one bass, one trumpet, a kick-ass clarinet and drums in an open carport. They were practising with great enthusiasm that was only matched by the volume attained.

I tried to imagine such a thing occurring anywhere back in BC. There would be complaints and calls to bylaw officers. But here in La Peñita, it’s obvious that would be a ridiculous reaction. All these guys were doing was temporarily drowning out the other random musical outbursts.

I realize I’m making this sound like a noisy place.

In fact, it’s only sporadically loud.

Right now, as I write, it’s 7:30 in the morning. I’m sitting in the back courtyard of our rental casita and all I hear is the aforementioned random roosters, a distant dog, the rumble of a far-off truck. Interspersed is the odd squeal of metal doors being opened and shut.

But mostly there is simply an endless number of little birds twittering in the cool morning air, though the sun is already hinting at the day’s coming heat.

Today we plan to walk down the dusty roads to the nearby market in Guayabitos. And today, like every other day spent in Mexico, we will walk accompanied by our very own soundtrack. Sometimes it will be a lyrical composition of birds and waves.  But in between there will be bursts of bass, lots of brass and sporadic loud bells.

It is a soundtrack that proclaims life is to be quietly savoured, but that every once in a while, it should be enjoyed in all its symphonic and colourful glory.

I love this country.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8407Nju3ZE