One of the delights of living out here is what I call taking care of "Bits and Pieces." By that I mean that I will start on one project and end up doing something there, then a bit over here, then some other piece of a project in another place. This especially is true in the Garden, when I'll start out weeding some patch underneath a tree in the orchard, and then, while I'm carrying the first load of green waste away, see that the compost heap needs turning, then I'll go over to rake the sand in the Bird Garden; and then, it's time for cleaning another tree well. So it is with Blogging and working on The Website. I start a thread of thinking regarding some aspect of living in SMA (like Sounds in the Campo, and then I'll work on a YouTube Video for awhile, then I'll tweak some ad like Craig's List. And then it's another few days before I am, figuratively speaking, back under the tree in the orchard.
But, here I am. To round out the week of sounds, from the village and beyond...... Sunday has more Veggie Vending. And, maybe importantly, there is the absent sound, the Church Bell. The small village doesn't have a priest living and working with the people, here. Rather, there are priests that come from the larger areas, of which this village is a parish member. Services are not usually "rung" in, so to speak, on Sundays. The bells do ring, at different times: When services are conducted by the priest of lay members; when there is a call to church-affiliated classes; when there is a holy celebration; and when someone dies.
There are other sounds throughout the week, from Monday on. Occasional trucks rumbling up to the Bull Farm (just a bit past our area), faints sounds of traffic on the highway, occasional planes passing overhead. Some mornings, on clear, mostly still mornings, a sound somewhat like a blast furnace can be heard. It usually takes a minute for me to remember what it is and where it's coming from before I look up toward the southwestern sky. There, one (or sometimes more) of the SMA Hot Air Balloons is rising up above SMA, for the grand view. Often, the Balloons will travel overhead, making a tour of the lands north and east of the city.
Compared to the city noise, the sounds out here, because they are more transitory, do not pound deep into the unconscious, creating a stress layer. Unlike the city, many of the sounds here are pastoral and resonate more naturally with the rhythms of the day. And even the less "natural" sounds have their place in the daily life of all of us who live here.
Showing posts with label sounds in the country. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sounds in the country. Show all posts
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sounds Wafting From The Village Part One: Thursday.
Besides the sounds of domesticated animals, the dogs, roosters, cows, burros, and sheep, there are the the more industrial sounds that waft and are filtered by distance, before reaching Casita Dos Arbolitos. It's Thursday. Besides the morning claxon, horn for the middle and preparatory kids, the earliest sound we hear is a loudspeaker which does a quick music intro, followed by a quick verbal message; and this is followed by a unique horn, two short blasts, mid-range. It's the Propane delivery. Every Thursday morning, with music, message and horn, they announce their arrival. This alerts everyone that needs to replace their empty propane tank (30 Liters) with a full one. Gas is used sparingly here, for some cooking, very little heating. Firewood remains the main source for heating, and is considered unparalleled for cooking tortillas.
The next sound we hear, at about 9:30AM, is the dueling alerts from the two tortilla vendors. Though many in the village have gotten up early to take their nixtamal (corn prepared to make masa---Watch this video about the whole process), then started a fire and shaped and cooked tortillas, not everyone has the time or inclination (or sufficient corn---especially at this time of year, before the harvest). For those the horn of Tortilla Guy #1 and the Car Alarm hoots and siren and whistles or Tortilla Guy #2 signal the first opportunity to purchase the daily supply of fresh-made tortillas. This run is for the mid-morning meal, served between 1o and 11. These two will return, again, around 2PM or so, to supply people enough tortillas to get them through the Comida (around 3PM) and the light evening meal, later.
Later, on Thursday, there is the multi-purpose truck. With cleaning supplies of all types, including small barrels of liquid soap products from which one can purchase smaller quantities; and the brooms and brushes and mops and cloths; and plastic ware such as buckets and bins and pails and tubs. The multi-purpose vendor, intersperses music with a running commentary of his products, driving up and down the cobble and dirt roads of the village.
Some time each day, usually after the first meal and before Comida, the jingle of the Ice Cream Man, selling, from the back of his truck, from a variety of tin cannisters packed in ice, homemade ("casera") ice cream. Usually there are a number of flavors. Vanilla, of course; chocolalte; cajeta (a carmel like flavor); fruits of all types like strawberry, peach, banana, mango, and mamay (hard to describe, but good---the fruit is shaped like a mango, but with scratchy skin).
More on sounds, tomorrow.
The next sound we hear, at about 9:30AM, is the dueling alerts from the two tortilla vendors. Though many in the village have gotten up early to take their nixtamal (corn prepared to make masa---Watch this video about the whole process), then started a fire and shaped and cooked tortillas, not everyone has the time or inclination (or sufficient corn---especially at this time of year, before the harvest). For those the horn of Tortilla Guy #1 and the Car Alarm hoots and siren and whistles or Tortilla Guy #2 signal the first opportunity to purchase the daily supply of fresh-made tortillas. This run is for the mid-morning meal, served between 1o and 11. These two will return, again, around 2PM or so, to supply people enough tortillas to get them through the Comida (around 3PM) and the light evening meal, later.
Later, on Thursday, there is the multi-purpose truck. With cleaning supplies of all types, including small barrels of liquid soap products from which one can purchase smaller quantities; and the brooms and brushes and mops and cloths; and plastic ware such as buckets and bins and pails and tubs. The multi-purpose vendor, intersperses music with a running commentary of his products, driving up and down the cobble and dirt roads of the village.
Some time each day, usually after the first meal and before Comida, the jingle of the Ice Cream Man, selling, from the back of his truck, from a variety of tin cannisters packed in ice, homemade ("casera") ice cream. Usually there are a number of flavors. Vanilla, of course; chocolalte; cajeta (a carmel like flavor); fruits of all types like strawberry, peach, banana, mango, and mamay (hard to describe, but good---the fruit is shaped like a mango, but with scratchy skin).
More on sounds, tomorrow.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Thoughts About Sounds, On a Cool Autumn Afternoon.
The Light of Autumn, the golden-tinged light, was shining throughout the morning and afternoon. It gave an auric glow to the landscape. Now, clouds are gathering. Thunder has been rumbling for the past hour. Because we had a short rainy season this year, we are hoping that these clouds, blowing from the northeast, rumbling in, will be more than the tease of last night. Then, there were all of the dramatics of the false prophet, promising the end of the world, by deluge, when all we got was a few minutes of sprinkles, which were quickly soaked up by a thirsty earth.
The above paragraph was written just before it was time to stop for Dinner. Dinner, last night consisted of homemade Guacamole. This made in one of our Molcajetes. And Tacos de Carnitas, with Homemade Tortillas. During dinner, and throughout the evening and night, the gathering clouds kept their promise and delivered some rain; 8/10 of an inch!
My thoughts, yesterday afternoon, were musings on the sounds of the countryside, the "campo" outside of San Miguel de Allende, where we live. The sounds here, coming mostly from nature, differ from the hustle and happenings of SMA. There, are the noises of cars and buses and trucks and commerce. On any given day, there is celebration and fireworks; these from simple "cuetes," fire crackers, to bottle rockets and grand displays of pinwheels and facsimiles. There are musicians playing in the Parks and Gardens and restaurants; sometime creating a cacophony, as mariachis compete with Spanish flamenco guitarists and the jukebox of the kids break-dancing on the bandstand. Vendors calling out selling newspapers and cooked "elote" (corn) and the tin whistle of the knife sharpener. And a siren or two, punctuated by the band whistle of the transit police, trying to find the people who have double-parked along the main streets. And, for many who live and visit SMA, all of these are a part of its charm. For me too; this, mostly because I visit SMA when I choose. The rest of the time, I'm out here at Casita Dos Arbolitos listening to sounds out here.
We have no fewer sounds than SMA, mostly just different, and more natural. There are some "industrial" sounds, if you will. If one is awake at 5:30AM, the sound of the school bus honking the "claxon" (car horn) is hurried summonig the secondary-grade students. From our house, it is a bit faint and only heard if we're awake. A bit later, the Poorwill sings its plaintive to condensingly bouncy song, as the dawn breaks. In the distance, a rooster or two crow to the awakening day, a few dogs, barking at an early delivery truck. Other birds take over, as the sun begins to appear on the horizon and the Poorwill finishes its morning solo; later, as dusk begins, another solo performance will be staged, as the birds begin to quiet down and settle in. At some point in the morning, the high plateau drylands sound a bit like a jungle, as the cactus wrens and woodpeckers begin their callings to one another. And there are the doves who coo and "mourn" during the morning and early evening. And the screech of the jay. And chittering of the towhees. And the beautiful song of the thrasher, a song that belies its sinister yellow-eyed appearance.
Besides the birds of the campo, there are the domestics. The roosters, as mentioned, comment throughout the day, mostly in the morning and evening, and at abrupt changes in light and temperature. Yesterday, the cattle on the hillside to the south of Casita Dos Arbolitos, in full view from our Patio Room, were carrying on some indecipherable conversation, occasionally punctuated by the braying of a donkey in the village. During the early afternoon, one of the villagers was moving his flock of sheep through the arroyo, looking for a little green for them to nibble on. The sheep added to the domestic dialog, though not as much as they do during the time their children are still suckling. Then, there is a bit more calling, back and forth, as mother and child try to locate each other; the children, as children of all species are wont to do, having wandered off to explore, instead of staying close to their Mamas.
At various times, throughout the night, throughout the year, coyotes yip. Their reasons not fully understood, though some times they sound lonely and others more celebratory. And, on occasion, the hoot of an owl breaks the silence of the night.
There are more industrial sounds. There is a rhythm to them, throughout the week. In the next post, I'll tell about them and their place in our village, out here in the campo.
The above paragraph was written just before it was time to stop for Dinner. Dinner, last night consisted of homemade Guacamole. This made in one of our Molcajetes. And Tacos de Carnitas, with Homemade Tortillas. During dinner, and throughout the evening and night, the gathering clouds kept their promise and delivered some rain; 8/10 of an inch!
My thoughts, yesterday afternoon, were musings on the sounds of the countryside, the "campo" outside of San Miguel de Allende, where we live. The sounds here, coming mostly from nature, differ from the hustle and happenings of SMA. There, are the noises of cars and buses and trucks and commerce. On any given day, there is celebration and fireworks; these from simple "cuetes," fire crackers, to bottle rockets and grand displays of pinwheels and facsimiles. There are musicians playing in the Parks and Gardens and restaurants; sometime creating a cacophony, as mariachis compete with Spanish flamenco guitarists and the jukebox of the kids break-dancing on the bandstand. Vendors calling out selling newspapers and cooked "elote" (corn) and the tin whistle of the knife sharpener. And a siren or two, punctuated by the band whistle of the transit police, trying to find the people who have double-parked along the main streets. And, for many who live and visit SMA, all of these are a part of its charm. For me too; this, mostly because I visit SMA when I choose. The rest of the time, I'm out here at Casita Dos Arbolitos listening to sounds out here.
We have no fewer sounds than SMA, mostly just different, and more natural. There are some "industrial" sounds, if you will. If one is awake at 5:30AM, the sound of the school bus honking the "claxon" (car horn) is hurried summonig the secondary-grade students. From our house, it is a bit faint and only heard if we're awake. A bit later, the Poorwill sings its plaintive to condensingly bouncy song, as the dawn breaks. In the distance, a rooster or two crow to the awakening day, a few dogs, barking at an early delivery truck. Other birds take over, as the sun begins to appear on the horizon and the Poorwill finishes its morning solo; later, as dusk begins, another solo performance will be staged, as the birds begin to quiet down and settle in. At some point in the morning, the high plateau drylands sound a bit like a jungle, as the cactus wrens and woodpeckers begin their callings to one another. And there are the doves who coo and "mourn" during the morning and early evening. And the screech of the jay. And chittering of the towhees. And the beautiful song of the thrasher, a song that belies its sinister yellow-eyed appearance.
Besides the birds of the campo, there are the domestics. The roosters, as mentioned, comment throughout the day, mostly in the morning and evening, and at abrupt changes in light and temperature. Yesterday, the cattle on the hillside to the south of Casita Dos Arbolitos, in full view from our Patio Room, were carrying on some indecipherable conversation, occasionally punctuated by the braying of a donkey in the village. During the early afternoon, one of the villagers was moving his flock of sheep through the arroyo, looking for a little green for them to nibble on. The sheep added to the domestic dialog, though not as much as they do during the time their children are still suckling. Then, there is a bit more calling, back and forth, as mother and child try to locate each other; the children, as children of all species are wont to do, having wandered off to explore, instead of staying close to their Mamas.
At various times, throughout the night, throughout the year, coyotes yip. Their reasons not fully understood, though some times they sound lonely and others more celebratory. And, on occasion, the hoot of an owl breaks the silence of the night.
There are more industrial sounds. There is a rhythm to them, throughout the week. In the next post, I'll tell about them and their place in our village, out here in the campo.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)