There are many things strange and wondrous in Mazatlan, completely different from the cultural norms in the US. One of the big differences is the attitude toward noise. Noise is a very real fact to be dealt with here. I've gotten pretty zen about it, and usually find myself enjoying it. I've come to see it as the daily, exuberant celebration of life, and a wonderful part of living in this vibrant city. Not so this morning.

There are certain morning noises that I have come to expect. They are so much the ritual part of my day that I even miss them when they don't happen. Around 5:30, the newspaper delivery scooter comes down our hill to deliver the paper to our neighbor. The scooter is old, without a muffler, and has serious problems making it up the hill. I gotta give the delivery guy credit. He cuts his engine at the top of the hill and coasts down. Very quiet. I have gotten so used to it, I barely wake up anymore. Even the dogs only woof softly.

Around 7:15, I can expect our 16-year-old neighbor's boyfriend to show up with his tunes turned up and begin honking incessantly. She is never ready on time. Evidently Enrique, her dad, has no problems with a boy who honks for his daughter. This usually lasts 7 or 8 minutes. Just long enough to get the dogs good and excited. If I am still in bed, this event lets me know I have overslept and am wasting the day.

About 7:40, the steady stream of school children begins. School starts at 8:00. The younger children are escorted by mothers, holding their hands and using thumbs to wipe last smudges of jam off chubby faces (some things cross all cultural borders). One particular kindergartener always has a complete meltdown. He hates leaving his mama for the morning. The older children come in groups, laughing a cheerful tune. Sometimes the boys lightly shove each other and engage in other displays of bravado, usually for the benefit of the group of girls walking behind them.

This morning, however, I was treated to an altogether different noise at the mind boggling hour of 5:50. At the top of our hill idled a VW Microbus converted into trolley, with what had to be the very best sound system in all of Mazatlan, blaring the Mexican version of circus music. For over half an hour. I was not amused.

What really blows my mind is that no one else seemed to be annoyed. Not a single soul went to him to suggest politely or otherwise that perhaps he should attenuate his music or move on. This is the heart of one of the big differences in cultures. While I wanted nothing more than to open the gate so Reku could go up the hill and thank the man personally for the morning serenade, I doubt my neighbors even gave much notice to the music. If they did, it would never occur to them to ask the man to stop. It's very live and let live here.

But all that loud music did mean I was up to see the first rays of sun kissing the tops of the islands across the water. What a sight. I'm glad I was awake to see it. God, what is happening to me?