Earthquake was a 6.2 according to the net. Just right for fun and conversation (and blogging). Everything settled back to normal immediately thereafter. And then we went out for dinner.

Guatemala has a weird cultural habit. Maybe it is just Antigua. I dunno. But, anyway, they set off firecrackers all day long. Just about every day.  And at all times of all the days, tho mostly at night.

There seem to be two types – the ones that you might expect at a Chinese New Year celebration: a few hundred in a bunch going off like Rice Krispies on ‘roids. The kind that sound like rapid light arms fire (military vernacular).

And then there are the ones that sound like they were dropped from the Enola Gay. These puppies BOOM!  I mean, like: you can feel the vibration in the air sometimes!  A shotgun going off in the air over your head fifty feet from you doesn’t make the noise these min-bombs do from blocks away. Some are so big, I thought at first it was a volcano popping.

Abuelo last night figured it was a real ‘firefight’ between shotgun totin’ desperados and Alberto.  Hard to say.  Honest!  I am pretty sure it was just the usual bigger-than-sticks-of-dynamite fire-crackers but we’ll check for bodies later in the day when we go out.

Last night we had rapid light arms fire-type noise all night long to the cranked-up accompaniment of party music at a neighbours house. Good fun, it seems. There would be riot police if it was that loud in Vancouver. Bylaws would be passed.  The premier would promise to crack down on something. Latin music, I hope.

I think the hockey riots were quieter.

And, of course, the occasional Manhattan project would boom every hour or so just to remind you where you were.

The really interesting part is that this ‘assault’ can be heard all over town at different times and at different places every day of the week. Maybe a bit more on weekends. Maybe a bit more again at festivals, funerals, weddings and parties.  Or for any reason, now that I think of it.  But, no matter, the fireworks are as ubiquitos as car horns, motorcycle drones and diesel buses. Describing Antigua without the fireworks is like describing Vancouver without the mountains.

Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Is it the same guys going about in trucks all night long or is it a cultural habit enjoyed spontaneously by denizens of all neighbourhoods?

Last night we had the addition of half-a-rooster adding to the din. This poor ditz just didn’t have the call down pat. He’d ‘cock-a-o-woooo’ . Missing the doodle. That I found disturbing.

To answer the obvious question: Yes. I sleep through it all. Mostly. The damn chicken gets me now and then.

What kind of weird bird-gene deviation leaves out half a ‘crow’?  Where’s the ‘doodle’?  His timing was bad, too. He’d half-rise to the occasion at about two in the morning, make a few goofy, limp-taloned efforts and then fade against the latest barrage of gunpowder ‘blasts’ from the guys-who-have-all-the-fun-with-explosives. Sunrise, it seems has nothing to do with it.

There is no way that rooster gets lucky.  Think about it: first you are born a chicken.  Then you are born a chicken in Guatemala.  Then you are cursed with a speech impediment and finally, you have no sense of timing to speak of.  To add to the misery, you have to compete with bombs going off and a whole other village-within-a-village of dogs compelled to add to the ongoing cacophony.  No wonder he gives up half-way through.

OK, it is not much for a blog entry, I admit, but I, for one, am really, really glad I am not a Guatemalan rooster.

Maybe you have to be here to really feel it?