By Brigham Golden
I don’t think it’s crossing a line to say that Mexico is not renowned for its peace and quiet. Church bells, street vendors, parades, fireworks, dogs, roosters, horses, and, of course, music—from mariachis to sonidero. On a beautiful rooftop evening in San Miguel de Allende, if the moment is just right, you might literally be able to hear all these things—at the same time.
Mexico is exuberant. Even death is a party here. But the cacophony of that exuberance can be challenging—obviously to non-Mexicans, but, truthfully, even Mexicans have their limits and criteria for what they consider unacceptable noise. Screaming, for one, is considered un grosero (rude).
For better or for worse, Sanmiguelenses have taken the discourse over “acceptable noise” to an extreme in recent years. How many Mexican towns arm its police with decibel readers and require its drivers to “avoid using horns”? We do and with good reason; our urban density and acoustics make a single concussive firework heard by perhaps 75,000 people and a rooftop party by probably 25,000. It is good that we are thinking this through.
So, what kind of noise is ok, San Miguel?
Without getting into the nitty gritty of hours and dates and decibels, I’d like to make some suggestions—at least about what public noise we should try our best to accept and even (through clear and reasonable regulations) to foster.
But first, an admission: in the battles over noise in San Miguel, I am a weapon. I produce and provide audiovisual equipment for events like concerts, theater, weddings, conferences, and parties. As a result, I sometimes find myself standing on the street at midnight with a government official and a decibel meter. I’m on the front lines.
From my experience, I would like to suggest that in Mexico there are primarily two kinds of acceptable noise-making by adults: “service” and “culture.” The first I’m not going to address much, but just imagine for a moment the clanging trash collectors, the high-pitched whistle of the knife sharpener, and the now-famous droning refrain, “Se compran colchones tambores, refrigeradores, estufas …” (We buy mattresses, drums, refrigerators, stoves …). I will only mention that all these noise makers are on the move; they do not stay in one place.
The second type of acceptable noise, culture, is what I would ask San Miguel to consider deeply because even more than our picturesque beauty and eternal spring, it is our culture—art, music, traditions, and the community that surrounds them—that have been the foundation of San Miguel’s renaissance over the last 50 years.
Cultural noise has many forms, from church bells to street mariachis, but by far the loudest are the public, city-wide celebrations, for example, La Alborada, New Years Eve, El Grito, Semana Santa, and Dia de la Virgen. These and a handful of other largely liturgical celebrations are marked by loud music and fireworks all around the city—often until dawn. No one would suggest that San Miguel should muzzle these celebrations, though some basic rules would be fair and reasonable. (Personally, I’d love to prohibit the concussive fireworks and permit only the beautiful, colorful kind).
This leaves us with the more private forms of culture, largely music, which is played at many private establishments in San Miguel. And it is here where I think the biggest questions and conflicts remain. One might fairly ask, “does any party or music club count as culture?” And my response is only that San Miguel should do its best to foster the cultural content of our noise. Weddings, art openings, and festivals of gastronomy are all cultural celebrations, not mere parties. To be sure, these are the kinds of events that San Miguel should be famous for, not the random partying of a spring break.
Music clubs and theaters? Well, if we want a thriving music scene, we must find the balance of supporting our venues even as we give them clear and reasonable noise guidelines.
There is an important reason for all this that even the most ardent crusaders of silence must acknowledge. Culture and celebration are not merely the source of San Miguel’s singular beauty, but its lifeblood, supporting the very artists, musicians, artisans, foodies, and florists who create that beauty. Further, our cultural economy is non-polluting, sustainable, and even egalitarian, as tradition belongs even—if not especially—to the most disenfranchised.
Simply put, culture, and the community that sustains it, is our greatest asset and must remain our North Star.
So, my dear Sanmiguelenses, the next time you hear a wedding party, I ask you to hold in your mind that these people are having one of the most beautiful nights of their lives. Recall that these people will always think of San Miguel as the cradle of love and will return here again forever with this beautiful association. And remember, fellow Sanmiguelenses, that this is surely worth a bit of noise on a Saturday night.
Brigham Golden is an anthropologist, event producer, DJ, and 16-year resident of San Miguel. El Cotidiano Arcano (The Arcane Everyday) is an irregular column about local culture and politics.
