Last night was a tad discouraging: we took a 10-hour train ride and arrived at our hotel, longing for a quiet night. We quickly discovered that we were starring in a migrane headache commercial. Directly outside of our window a band was playing its heart out, trumpets and all--completely, hopelessly out of tune. Crowds cheered as fireworks exploded above our hotel. What made the scenario particularly dispiriting was the fact that the chaos would die down for a few minutes, enough time to give us hope that the madness was soon to end. Then the trumpets would begin their cacaphonous torrent of noise once again.
How I longed for the wail of dogs, the early rising rooster, or the screams of a crying baby--anything to erase those cursed trumpets!
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