Zócalo - Veracruz

On good days I bike (3 gears) from my home down to Point Grey Road and to Jericho Beach. I am passed by very fast e-bikes, e’s etc, and cyclists dressed in Italian bike clothing. Many of them have either earphones or the sound with them is loud. I cannot understand this.

Many years ago while walking (callejoneando is a lovely Mexican word that is about walking in old town streets) one evening in the lovely city of Guanajuato I distinctly heard the little noise of a billiard ball hitting another.

Rosemary and I would drive our Beetle on some weekends to visit my mother who taught school in Veracruz. We instantly noticed that sounds carried at sea level like they did not in Mexico City’s high altitude. We found it romantic to be in bed and hearing ship’s horns as they came into the or left.

We loved going to the portales on the Zócalo and sitting having our lecheros (coffee with milk) at La Parroquia. We could hear the clanking of the trams and musicians with marimbas played right next to us. With little money they would sing an extemporaneous song using Rosemary’s name.

When we lived in Kerrisdale in the middle of the night we would hear trains (Arbutus tracks?).

In my Kitsilano home I have a heavy duty sound system complete with a pair of JBL studio monitors. Except when I have visitors I never listen to my large collection of records, tapes and CDs. I tell myself that the sound is in my head. With Rosemary gone I rarely go to concerts.

My cat Niña patiently waits for me to wake up in the morning. Around 7AM when I rustle and move a tad she gets on my chest and mews and purrs.

Rosemary never snored and she never complained if I did.