The sun rises across the city from our balcony as the sound of early morning traffic starts out quiet and slow, but gradually grows louder and faster. By the time the sun is casting shadows across the buildings, the trucks are in full roar.
Within thirty minutes of sunrise someone with a microphone and a very big set of speakers is yelling their message to the masses waiting at the cluster of bus stops just around the corner at the bottom of our hotel, yelling at the top of their lungs into a microphone with the volume cranked up to maximum. I still can’t understand what’s being shouted, the reverberating echos off the nearby buildings garble the words. The waiting crowd ignores the screamer. They’ll be carried away from the overwhelming noise, and become part of the roar as their bus driver merges with the trucks.
The shouter continues shouting for ninety minutes.
The morning rush ends, the trucks are gone and the roar of traffic dies down to a normal level eventually. The rest of the day is fairly peaceful with the occasional screech of tires on asphalt, rumbling motorcycle, or the occasional thumping bass of a lone car stereo.
Right now I hear a few cars, the maids working on the other rooms on our floor, someone from maintenance drilling into the concrete walls, and someone from the park below is playing a beautiful Spanish sound on the guitar.
What does your morning sound like?