It’s fiesta time in Ajijic. If you’re new around here, brace yourself for a total transformation of the quaint and peaceful village pitched by your realtor and websites spieling expertise on retirement abroad.

The two-week blowout honoring santo patrón Andrew the Apostle is an essential part of the town’s heart and soul. Like it or not, the celebration comes with NOISE, lots of it, round-the-clock, at unimaginable levels that could blow out your handy decibel gauge.

If there’s one thing that drives the foreign populace crazy it’s the incessant fireworks. Principally, the cohetes de trueno, the ear-splitting sky rockets fired off in repeated rounds from dawn through the wee hours. Then there are salvos, full loads of rockets blasted off in rapid succession at peak moments of the festivities. Deep-toned explosions are heard just before bombas burst into gorgeous starbursts high in the sky. Castillo displays, though less aggressive on auditory organs, screech, whistle, fizzle and pop as they light up layer upon layer.

We all know that the thousands of pesos dished out for purchasing fireworks could be better spent on feeding the poor and healing the infirm. That’s beside point. Pyrotechnic extravagance is a matter of pride for many folks who scrimp and save throughout the year so they can kick in hard-earned pesos for the purchase of fiesta explosives.

The same goes for fiesta music. The more the merrier. The bigger the band, the better.  They’re the ones with monster speakers that, cranked up to top volume, will rattle the rafters and bounce off the mountains to be heard in neighboring towns.

Adding to the seasonal soundscape are clanging church bells, the roaring machinery of mechanical rides, the calls of street vendors out hawking their wares, off-key singing by drunken revelers, and the barking and whimpering of dogs distraught by cohete blasts on their sensitive hearing. Oh yeah, and the abundant human conversation and joyous laughter that happens when people get together to party.

Let’s be clear. Foreigners are alone in their aversion to all the commotion. There are plenty of Mexican people of all age groups who cherish quiet and would prefer acoustical moderation in the community. But long-held customs won’t be broken by petitioning for government regulation or ranting and raving on social media. Though changes may evolve gradually over time and generations, the eradication of fiesta clamor would totally alter the essence of village life.   

Those who can’t hack it have the option of taking off for a short seaside holiday. Or perhaps settling down in Antarctica where the only disturbing sounds will be the cracking of the ice sheets and the squawking of penguins.

For anyone keen to understand and embrace the psychology and culture of the Mexican fiesta, pick up “The Labyrinth of Solitude” by Octavio Paz to read and absorb the third essay titled The Day of the Dead. The author’s sage observances, written more than a half a century ago, still ring true today.