Sonidos de la mañana

You know it’s morning in Pueblo Nuevo when the roosters commence their chorus. I happened to be sleeping directly across the street from a rooftop where chickens are kept in a long line of cages. There seemed to be a regular composition they were following that was led by the loudest guy closest to me and echoed down the line, ending briefly, as after an exhale, before the conductor kicked off a new round. The background filled in with the animato peeping of birds. Soon I heard the long rasping sounds of someone sweeping the sidewalk nearby, a rather pleasant sound that made me think of having my back scratched. Then there were footsteps and the clunk of storefront doors opening. A bicycle whirred by and a dog barked. And then… then there was the guy selling propane tanks out of the back of his pickup truck. He had a loudspeaker attached to the roof of the cab playing a recorded loop that began with a little music and then cheerfully – and loudly – hawked his product. This played over and over as he drove up and down the streets.

I got up and joined Maddy on the balcony overlooking the street, watching the morning spectacle. We exchanged shouted “¡Buenos dias!” with the people opening up across the street. It was going to be a bright, sunny, hot day, but in the morning the air was still fresh and enlivening.

[View across the street (sunset); the liquor store under the sign belongs to Beatriz's uncle; chicken coops are lined along the brick wall at the far right.]

We went down to breakfast when Beatriz arrived from her grandmother’s house. The night before, we’d bought fruit at a market up the street: mangos, guayaba (guava), papaya, and mamey. (We ate lots of great fresh fruit everywhere we were in Mexico.) Beatriz also fixed up some little quesadillas and brought out yogurt to have with the fruit.

Sometime after breakfast I was upstairs getting something out of my suitcase when I saw something scurry under a fold in the bedcovers. When I peeked at it I saw the unmistakable shape of a scorpion, light-colored and about an inch or so long. I quickly moved my stuff off the bed and went downstairs to tell Beatriz: “Ah… ¡Hay un escorpion en mi cama!” We all ran upstairs and at first we couldn’t find it. But Beatriz shook out the bedcovers and it dropped on the floor where she promptly stepped on it with her shoe. She said they weren’t dangerous here, that the deadly ones are up in Leon (which didn’t reassure me given that Leon is only a couple of hours away, although knowing there are two doctors in the family was good). Anyway, I wasn’t really worried, but I did pack my stuff up rather gingerly, hoping I wasn’t bringing any hitchhikers with me on the bus to San Miguel later in the day.

[Beatriz's mother keeps chicken in the back yard; this appeared to be the sole rooster.]

Comments

[Roberta]

The daily pics are wonderful. So much to share with us, I know I'm enjoying it.

[leslee]

Hey Roberta! Thought you'd like the chickens. :-)

[maria]

I am enjoying the pictures and stories ... having a virtual vacation, thanks to your account and images!

[grumpygirl]

you do know that chickens crow whenever they damn feel like it, right? even at 2 am?

i am so envious of your trip!

[leslee]

Alyssa: These guys particularly felt like it when the sun came up! Although they did continue well into the day.