Noise polluting dreams

Woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, eyes wide open. It took a minute for me to realize what had woken me up: it was silence, pure and sweet. For the last two nights, and for the total three nights I've spent in this apartment, it's been a raucous noisy ride. Macondo (taken from the Garcia Marquez oeuvre), the bar across the street, creates a sound tunnel carrying laughter, heels clicking across the dance floor, and the same 15 salsa songs played in nearly the same order, directly from its open doors to my wall of windows, ancient and cracked. I love this apartment for the light it lets in, and for the views, but at 2 AM it's not the ideal resting place.

But yesterday was Sunday, and thankfully the bar was closed. Still, we're on the corner with a very busy street with a nearly constant stream of traffic. Vehicles here in Colombia are much noisier than their counterparts in the states, for some mechanical reason I'm sure, and not just for the exuberant cultural differences (smile). People are beginning to realize that noise pollution is a problem in the city ("Hazardous Noise Increase in Bogota"). One of the first differences I noticed being back in Atlanta was just how quiet it all was. A sleepy hamlet, that's what Atlanta felt like after Bogota.

Then last night, a silence so compete it woke me. For a moment it lingered, let itself be savored, stretched, wiped the sleep from its eyes, then laid back down as a night delivery truck hammered down the lane. Back to normal, and I went back to sleep, fully acclimated by that momentary realization of the differences. They are meant to be enjoyed.