All is calm. All is bright. (Though there isn’t a single round yon virgin in sight. Or even a virgin, for that matter.) As I sit in the post-Christmas quiet, the ringing in my ears is just beginning to fade.
Everyone is sleeping. Which means no one is screaming. In the morning, the silence will surrender to the screaming all over again.
Within five minutes of the arrival of my family, I was reminded that the Cuban baseline volume level is several decibels (and octaves) above the Gringo baseline volume that I have apparently grown accustomed to. The Cuban volume dial doesn’t stop at 10. Seriously.
It’s a remarkable phenomenon, really. Whether someone wants to watch a movie and needs to know where the remote control is, or whether someone’s just accidentally chopped their forearm off in the kitchen while preparing dinner, it all sounds the same. It’s enough to maintain a persistent state of tachycardia.
But I love it. This is my family. Locos que son. They are mine. It’s been a good Christmas. Cardiac arrhythmia provoking, but good.