On Friday I returned from a week in Haiti. Until the rains of Sandy arrived and wreaked havoc with the local population, every morning I went on the roof of my lodging and took in Port-au-Prince with all my senses. One morning, as the sun rose, this is what I heard:
Rooster, birds chirping, 360 degrees of sound. . . sweeping cement with straw broom, clucking of chickens behind. . . distant horn. . . pick-up truck rattling down bumpy road, neighbors calling out. . . pounding on metal, young girl singing at the top of her lungs, hum of people living life in the early morning, tiny goat bleating. . . rattling on a tall metal gate to signal “let me in!”, whir of distant generator, truck crushing stones into dirt as it drives along. . . a mother enthusiastically reprimanding her child several houses away, rooster to the left answering a rooster across the way, the breeze scruffling the pages of my notebook between pennings, a sneeze across the street, overloaded mopeds wheezing around potholes, foot and motor traffic increases in frequency and volume. . . the sun has risen. It is the end of the beginning of the day.
Sound familiar? This could have been any number of places I have lived and visited around the world. Have you been somewhere in the early morning where these sounds were common place?