What do you call a Peruvian dog that barks at 3 in the morning?

Dead.

Kidding, sort of. I love dogs - even the scraggliest, mangiest Peruvian street dog tugs at my heart, but my affection only applies during daylight hours. When the racket of barking begins spontaneously in the middle of the night, being adorably fluffy only gets you so far.

It´s not just the dogs - it´s the blaring rock music the plays next door until midnight, the confused rooster that crows at all hours of the night, the same dance club track played on repeat for a 6 hour bus ride, the vendors that promenade past the house at 6 AM selling "arroz con LEEEEEEEECHE" and "tamalestamalestamalesTAMALES", the loud speakers at each school that announce the morning assembly with a rousing version of the national anthem, the young Peruvian kids who constantly have music blasting from their phones (whether it´s 2 AM on the overnight bus or 5 PM playing soccer with friends or 10 PM at the store to buy some eggs) - Peru is a noisy place.

Sometimes when I lie in bed at night with my head throbbing slightly, I realize that it´s the first time all day that I´ve been in silence. Barely has the conscious thought formed in my mind before the reverie is broken by those wretched dogs, or the taxi driver playing Cusqueña music, or the neighbor washing dishes to 90´s rock, or the rooster crowing because, well, why shouldn´t he inform the neighborhood that it´s 11:23 PM.

Why is Peru so noisy? Why aren´t Peruvians bothered by the noise? I can think of three plausible explanations:

(1) They are all practically deaf. That would certainly explain the awkwardly loud phone conversations I´ve overheard on the bus.

(2) I am overly sensitive to noise. This one actually doesn´t make much sense because I can barely understand my students and frequently request that they speak slower, look at me while they´re talking, and take their hands out of their mouths. Even then I barely understand them; hence, I must be either practically deaf or have way worse Spanish than I thought.

(3)  It´s a chorus, not a cacophony.

In the shouts of children, the barks and squawks of animals, the clatter of traffic, the blare of radios, and the din of music, there´s another, more subtle sound: the buzz of Peru. This place is so vibrant and full of life - it feeds all the senses - but experiencing it is a package deal. I get to smell freshly baked bread each morning at the Panaderia but I´ve also walked past heaps of rotting garbage dumped in the streets. There are mouth-watering foods here, but every visitor (except me, so far) is obligated to taste Picante, a stew made of cow intestines. The rich sound of Peruvians singing hymns on Sunday morning fills my heart, but it too has those aforementioned opposites. The joy, beauty, and love I witness each day, too, have their counterparts in the injustice, discrimination, and  suffering that exists.

Peru is a land of contrasts, and I´m just beginning to unravel some of the mysteries. The next two years will be filled with challenges, but from what I´ve already seen, the rewards will be incredible.