There is always noise in Cuba. In the countryside cockerels crow and dogs bark, in cities drivers honk their horns and reggaeton blasts from the bicitaxis.
Strolling through the busy streets of Matanzas, I glimpsed the sparking of sun on the surface of water and I went to the bay hoping for quiet. The noise of the car engines seemed to die down as beautiful piano music drifted out of an open window. I laid on the wall, closed my eyes, basked in the afternoon sun to the wonderful sound, and said to myself again that I love this country.
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