I must be finally caught up on rest from the trip, after packing it in early, too tired to go hear the Saturday concert in the central square.
Now I'm wide awake. At midnight the cacophony of the streets died down as if on cue: the loud traffic out front, occasional shouting, strange animal calls, thumps and bangs and other interesting sounds. Now come faint voices from old records on the night air, mixed with the background hum of distant traffic and barking dogs.
I wonder, are the voices I hear the same artists whose portraits and stories fill the Museum of Yucatecan music that we visited last time around?