In the morning, I go to take out the trash. Latrán is quiet and empty. It stinks in front of the house, as if the passers-by had made it their public toilet. I guess that’s the price to pay for having our front door hidden away around the corner. I walk towards where the trash containers should be. I walk a relatively long distance, and there, hidden behind a reed curtain, are the containers for trash and recycling. The only ones we have found far and wide.

Several times at 7 in the morning, we hear the bells through the open window… now that’s an alarm clock :o)

I’m walking along Latrán while putting the child to sleep. It’s late morning. The typical chattering of the tourists – now and then a car passes by. Three people pass me with suitcases, which manage to create quite a ruckus. I smell the coffee from the next-door café, and the scent of chimney cakes being made nearby. One of the local restaurants must be serving schnitzel – it makes me hungry for one, too.

I hear the voices of tourists… Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Czech, Slovak, Polish, German, English, Russian and other languages are everywhere. Sometimes you can make out what they’re saying; at other times, it’s just white noise. You can hear the clicking of high heels, while other are shuffling along. And the constantly snap, snap, snap of shutters. The street artists are unforgettable – singing, acting, entertaining. But there is a lot of competition, and you’re only allowed to perform for a limited period of time. Only one artist per spot, and so on. Sometimes I am sorry to see them go to their next gig.

But besides these sounds, noises, impressions…. All you have to do is walk a few steps and you’re in the brewery gardens, where it’s quiet, green, a place for children to play, trees full of cherries, excellent homemade lemonade. The polar opposite of Latrán, where we spend our days doing our “normal life.” Even the arrival of a group of rafters doesn’t change the peace and quiet.