Joaquin and I have been pleasantly holed up in Ensenada for a number of days while waiting for some new Keen Commuter sandals for Joaquin to make their way south of the border. As we spend our days reading, writing, relaxing, and prepairing for our eventual departure we take pleasure in listnening to the sounds of the outside world drifting in through the metal grates of the Casa del Ciclista. So many sounds. Music from cars and neighbors. Children playing. Dogs. So many dogs. Chihuahua squeals that sound like screeching brakes. (There´s a wide variety of dog breeds here, but they’re all half chihuahua.) The most interesting sounds, to me, are the sounds of commerce:

The water delivery truck at 7:30 in the morning. Blows its air horn as it turns down every street announcing its presence. It’s blasting horn approaching closer and closer like a train fronted by a Mexican trumpet player.

The cucumber sales truck announcing its goods with a used car salesman’s zeal. Lots of exclamation points, sentences rising in volume towards the end, fast rhythms, and a lot of hyperbole.

Avocado truck utilizes the cucumber method. (Avocados are the only thing we´ve purchased from the vendors. Perhaps their pitch was the best. Perhaps we really like avocados.)

The bread salesman with his looping tape of droll sales pitch delivery. Prerecorded as well. Blaring out of similar PA speakers attached to a truck. However, the bread delivery pitch is delivered in a flat monotonous drone, as if to stand out against the other hyperactive pitchmen with their music blazing and carnival squawker announcements. No exclamation points. “Senoritas, we have the most amazing bread for only 20 pesos. Si, Senoritas, only 20 pesos will buy you this fantastic bread.”

The doughnut delivery guy has the most exciting product, in my opinion, but the saddest delivery. He carries around a plastic tub of donuts and wails like a drunk man crying the name of the love he has wronged “Dohnaaaas!” Dohnaaaas!” He knows she’s gone.

Then there’s the ice cream delivery guy. My favorite. He rides a tricycle around with a huge penguiin on the front of it. No internal combustion. No blaring muisc. Just a bike, bell, a sweet custom track-suit uniform, and a giant penguin. No beating the customers into submission with an audio assault. No pity sales for sad sellers. I’m sold.