Is finally over.

Three weeks. Three long, noisy weeks. And it didn’t end on August 4th. Oh no. It ended somewhere between 5-6 am on the morning of the 5th. That’s when the last of the fireworks were hurled heavenward and peace finally descended upon an exhausted and sleep-deprived city.

Up until a year ago I wondered how such a small city could afford to buy the literally tens of thousands of rockets that get exploded almost constantly over the tops of its citizenry. Certainly the church isn’t funding all those missiles that get launched mostly from their premises? And then I saw a device in the back of some pickup truck and asked, “What exactly is that thing?” Never having seen anything before like it. “Oh, that’s the thing they use to make rockets with.”

So the local fireworks are a roll your own proposition which makes them unfortunately all too affordable. I’ll bet this city blasts off fireworks – at least – 150 days (and nights) out of the year. And sometimes the barrages start as early as 5 am, and on a few days of the year, don’t end until 5 am. I’ve stood on my roof and watched as dozens upon dozens have been launched at the same time.

As my friend, Enrique said yesterday, “The noise gets just too ridiculous.” He’s a quiet man but the morning after even he was a little outraged.

Yeah, I’ll say.

I am still a shivering sleep-deprived mess. It’s so bad that my Spanish fell to an all time low today as I found myself stammering out the simplest of words, unable to complete even the most basic of sentences.

Sometimes the world is just a little too loud for me. (And then there is Mexico…)