Rooster from Hell
After almost two weeks in Costa Rica, I have learned one possible downfall of the place: Los Gallos. We have a nice little cheap room in Quepos, with a real bastard of a rooster that lives right outside our window. Last night we were worn out from sun and bus travel, and looking forward to a good night’s sleep in our bare little room with only a window and a fan. We went to sleep at about 11, after staying up to revel in the death of Osama bin Laden. Perhaps the rooster did some coke and stayed up all night celebrating the death, or is “special,” or just an asshole rooster like most are, but in any event he crowed every 8 to 15 seconds from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m. And he sounded like he was directly outside the window. I tried to sleep through the ruido until 4:15, when I figured it was pointless to resist him any longer, so I went to sit in the garden to try to wake up and get less pissed off. The first light here comes promptly at 5 a.m, and as soon as I was in the garden for 10 minutes, I noticed the bastard crowing with much less frequency. I sat until 5:15, hanging out with a cool orange cat called Pino, and the light was really filling in. It was then that I noticed that the rooster had not crowed since first dawn, and he wouldn’t make another sound after. I can only hope this is because he was slaughtered in a painful manner, sent to Hell to keep Bin Laden up todo pinche noche.
After dawn brought silence to the rooster and soothing songs from multitudes of other birds, I was able to go back to sleep next to Paige, who was strangely unaffected by the night full of ruido de gallo. We slept like rocks, or rock stars, until 10, at which time it gets a little too hot to sleep anymore. But, now we are finally refreshed and ready for the day. But still, chinga tu madre, gallo.
* photo by eckounlimited2004 on Flickr