The Sounds of San Marcos

There is no way to describe the sounds of San Marcos, except with tongue firmly planted in cheek, and with a healthy sense of humour.  I remember that I moved to Cortes Island originally because I wanted a quieter, slower life than the one I had in the big city.  I didn´t realize how deeply I appreciated the profound quiet of Cortes until I came here.

In very rare moments, I can pause and hear just the sound of the trees or the crickets . . . or whatever small critters may be nearby, but truly those moments are rare.

I know I have alluded in previous entries to Guatemalans´ love for fireworks, firecrackers and other such noise makers.  This affection can not be over-stated.  I had hoped that with the passing of Christmas and New Years that this affection would go away, and while it has admittedly diminished in frequency . . . well, it seems this love springs eternal.  Now instead of being ready for the loud bangs, I am genuinely scared off my chair when they come because I am unprepared.  At least when they were happening constantly I was less startled by them, as I was in a mild state of readiness at any given moment to be assaulted by a huge bang in the sky.

Not to be left in the emptiness of silence for too long, however, this town ensures that we shall be entertained at almost all moments.  At least twice a day we have, what I´ve come to know as, Evangalista Karaoke.  It seems there are at least 2 primary churches here (though I sometimes think there is a third in the mix), and they are competing with all their little hearts to save the souls of this town.  And so, they share the off-key, but earnest warmth of their devotion through loud speakers atop the roofs of their churches.  Because no day should start without the word of god, you can be assured that the lovely lady with the seriously flat, but very enthusiastic voice will wake you up by 7:30 with her songs of devotion from the church in the town square.  Around 5:30, the nice man, with only slightly better pitch, will share his words of wisdom and devotion to ensure we make it through the evening.  Sometimes we are lucky to have a little extra support mid-afternoon, and Sundays, for sure, are my favourite.  They share their devotion in the morning simultaneously - one off-key voice competing across the town with the other.  God save ALL our souls.  It has been suggested by some that the broadcast is as much to counter the woo-woo energy of all us meditating heathens in the gringo part of town as it is to compete with each other.  Regardless, I am certain that I shall never forget (nor will I miss) this particular form of Karaoke.  In fact, much as I love karaoke, I don´t think it will ever really be the same.

Now, in case this isn´t sufficient to keep you entertained, we also have a local chorus.  The chorus is made up of the community of local dogs that roam the Pueblo.  They get together to sing at various points during the day, but in particular, they like to do rousing renditions at about 11pm.  Well over a dozen of them, I´m sure, sometimes all together, sometimes, like the evangalistas, they compete in packs across the top of town, barking profound messages at each other.

One of my favourite sound sets are the local birds.  There is one bird in particular that sounds like a kitten mewling.  For days I was convinced there was a poor abandoned kitten, possibly being beaten, somewhere near the Pyramid temple.  As it turns out, it is the cry of one of the local birds, but it never fails to cause me to wonder.  Unfortunately, the other bird calls, one of which I really like, are impossible for me to try and describe.  Suffice it to say that, among the cacophony of noises here in San Marcos, I thoroughly enjoy the various bird calls.


This brings me to the last of my intended account of the ´sounds´ of San Marcos: the Avocados.  At home I would never have considered these delectable fruits as noise-makers, but here they definitively are.  They fall from the trees at random, landing on the tin roofs like cannon-blasts.  I have been startled awake a few times by these little bombs.  The night of the big quakes in Haiti, we had a small ripple here.  I was startled awake by the feel of my pyramid shaking in the middle of the night.  Given my previous traumas with falling fruit, I thought at first it was just a really big avocado (remember I was pretty sleepy).  In the morning a fellow pyramider let me know what had happened which made far more sense to my awake brain.  Fortunately, we have had no more such shakes, rattles or rolls.  I do occasionally find, however, a kitten on my pyramid, scratching it´s way to the roof.  Not quite the same impact, thankfully.