This is still Fiesta Season. That means noise here in Mexico. Day and night. The rockets are constant. And frankly, at six in the morning, it’s not a disturbance. It’s got to be the reason Quetzalcoatl never returned.
I’m used to it. But it rattles my poor dog. I’m not kidding. I had to wrap her head with a scarf to try to reduce the sound and calm her nerves.
The rocket rallies always start in early morning as a long-held tradition reminiscent of centuries ago when Mexican villages were often awakened by pre-dawn raids. But the barrage of pyrotechnics can last well into the evening. These cohetes can range from modest fire crackers to rocket firings that could knock the Kepler probe out of its orbit. The end of November was an intermission while shattered window panes were replaced. November always ends with well-wishes to San Andrés, patron saint of Ajijic, and continued prayers that he will grant us a traffic light at Revolucion and the carretera.
From December through to the middle of January, Mexico carries on through an extended calendar of events which continue to be celebrated and punctuated with all manner of spectacular rockets and explosives shot into the sky, taking with them on occasion the unfortunate rocket-firer himself. What the heck happened to Jingle Bells.
The whole calendar of events ends, of course, with Christmas and New Year’s Eve and the Epiphany (and a lot of roof dogs with powder burns).