Are you looking for a little peace and quiet? Ecuador may not be the place for you

Occasionally, I see a question posted on an Internet forum from an expat-wannabe inquiring about quiet places to live in Cuenca. If I were ever inclined to answer, it would be to deliver an emphatic “Don’t come to Cuenca!” . . . or anywhere else in Ecuador or Latin America, for that matter, if your number one priority is peace and quiet.

I would tell them that they would be much happier in the sleepy burgs of New England — or in Finland or Norway if they are intent on moving overseas.

Holiday fireworks in Parque Calderon.

Although there are, in fact, some reasonably quiet neighborhoods in Cuenca and the surrounding countryside, you need to understand that Ecuadorians love their parties, parades, concerts, and festivals, which are frequently accompanied by fireworks.

In addition, car and home alarms, barking dogs, and the day-to-day traffic can fire up the decibels to overpowering levels. It’s a common joke here that the car alarm is Ecuador’s national anthem.

Even if you live in the country, unless you have hundreds of hectares with your house positioned in the middle, you can’t escape the noise. A friend who lives in Yunguilla, southwest of Cuenca, reports that on most weekends the valley is veritably alive with sounds of music in the form of reggaeton, salsa, hip hop and some plain old rock ‘n’ roll.

To be sure, there are plenty of rural areas, unlike Yunguilla, that are not weekend retreats for Cuencano revelers. But these too, have their music, not to mention barnyard noise-makers such as braying donkeys, caterwauling guinea hens, crowing roosters and, as in the city, barking dogs. And like their city cousins, country folks enjoy their fireworks, which they set off whenever the mood strikes.

And then there is the noise that most gringos cannot imagine until they live here.

Ten years ago, shortly after I moved to El Centro, I woke up at 4 one morning to the sound of drum rolls and trumpets. When I ran outside to the sidewalk, a 30-piece marching band was passing by. I stood there amazed, the only spectator in sight except for a curious street dog.

Later, when I asked my Cuencana wife why in hell there was parade in the middle of the night, she said, “Oh, don’t you know, it’s Saint Ceciia’s birthday?”

This guy goes on duty at 3:30 a.m.

You may have read about it but two weeks ago police raided a couple of nightclubs on Presidente Cordova, a few blocks from where I live. The raid was notable because it was in a rare response to neighbors’ complaints.

One of the complainers, it turned out, was a deaf man who lived two floors above one of the bars who said that the vibrations were keeping him awake. In fact, police said that the barroom, which measured 12 feet by 18 feet, mas o menos, was using a sound system designed for a small auditorium.

I leave you with some Latino wisdom on the subject. On my first visit to Ecuador, 16 years ago, when one of the gringos in my tour group complained about noise in the Quito neighborhood where we stayed, our tour guide shook his head and said to no one in particular, “Noise is life. Silence is death.”