Seems like everyone is getting on the bandwagon to complain about local noise. For some it’s barking dogs (two nights ago I, myself, was looking for a flame-thrower to express my anger at dog owners who insist on keeping their incessantly barking dog outside at night). Sometimes the irritant is the local fighting cock using your window sill to greet the dawn, which for him is about 4 a.m. (I think one such creature ended up as stuffing at the neighborhood taco stand.) It can be the local “big time” musician who comes home on occasional weekends and plays the same chords and eight bars of music on his amplified synthesizer until about 4:30 a.m. One woman wrote about the terrible noise she endures when the neighbor’s garage band practices, although, in her case they only go until 9 p.m. She’s lucky. In 30 years I’ve never lived in a neighborhood where the racket stopped before midnight.
If you don’t like noise, don’t live in Mexico. Much of life here is lived on the street outside or in open spaces, unlike that in colder climes with inviolate covenants, where everyone has the same colored drapery and is considered “odd” if they actually walk to the store. You might be more comfortable there.
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