Noise

Just imagine chickens clucking, diesel engines roaring, motorcycles revving, babies crying, horses clomping, dogs barking, parrots squawking, fans droning, people calling, doors squeaking, kids laughing, buses honking, and music playing.

All at the same time.

When you move to a new place, the first things that strike you as different are generally the food and the way people look.  Ask anyone, “So what was such-and-such a place like?” and they’ll say something like “Well, it was crazy, people walking everywhere, wearing these colorful dresses—even the guys—but the food was amazing!  Ok, a little spicy, but so good!”  These things seem to be easy to get used to—you find a food you like, you copy the actions of other people to fit in, you buy a new “indigenous” outfit or accessories.  To put it simply, you adjust.  

But noise, now that’s hard to get used to.  Noise is something that is constantly barraging us, whether we are aware of it or not.  Smells come and go.  Taste only happens at meal time.  And sight, well, sight can be shut out if we but close our eyes.

And I know what you’re thinking—you can tune out the world too.  You can use headphones, earplugs, or lock yourself in a soundproof room.  But those are just replacing one form of sound for another: music, muted sounds, the sound of your own breathing echoing off of the soundproof walls.

Noise never leaves us.

I don’t know about you, but I like to sleep in relative quiet.  The rhythmic whirr of a fan or the light notes of soothing music is about all I can tolerate.  Or could tolerate I should say.  I also like to work in relative quiet, focusing on the task at hand.  Tranquility, not silence, is the level of noise I love.  But living here in León, tranquility is hard to find and even harder to preserve.  Fleeting moments it’ll be here, like a breath of fresh air, and then suddenly a motorcycle will go past or a woman trying to sell tortillas or a car announcing the circus is in town. 

And for a while there, these interruptions irritated me.  I felt constantly attacked by sounds, the noise traveling up my spine like nails on a chalkboard.  I found myself exhausted, listening and mentally complaining about every little noise I heard and didn’t approve of.  Why couldn’t people just shut up for one second so I could sleep?! 

But the problem wasn’t with the people and the world living their normal lives around me.  The problem was definitely with me.  I realized that I just cared too much about everything I heard, as if it were a clue that I had to uncover and understand.  And because of this I became so overwhelmed to the point of irritated exhaustion.  Things needed to change.  I needed to change.  And so, slowly but surely, I began to ignore things.  Honestly, I don’t know how I did it, but somehow I grew used to the multitude of noises around me.  Now, when things are too quiet I get on edge.  Like, did everyone move away or die or something?  Is there something going on that I don’t know about?  Why is it so quiet?!

Do I still like to sleep in relative peace?  Yes.  Can I sleep when there’s lots of noise?  Thankfully, yes.  Even better, I have grown used to the noise around me and have begun to appreciate it.

So, when you sleep over at a friend’s house and hear strange noises coming from the walls, just remember that your friend has lived there all along and has slept soundly without any problems.  When you travel to a new place, sit for a bit and enjoy the new sounds around you and appreciate them for their uniqueness. And when you move to a new home, a new neighborhood, a new country, take comfort in the knowledge that someday, somehow, you will get used to it.

Stay tuned!