The last few posts here have not been about books at all. This is understandable because I am trying to give writing, marketing and every other author-related matter a bit of a rest while enjoying the seaside and its surroundings. There is one thing I cannot leave at home, though, and that is an inquisitive mind.
We were sitting on the warm sand, listening to the waves breaking on the shore every few seconds, when a young man arrived on an all-terrain mountain bike laden with luggage. He parked near us and began unloading everything.
What emerged was a small portable office. A folding chair appeared, followed by a table, laptop, breakfast and coffee. Then the umbrella went up. It was quite an impressive arrangement, and there was nothing wrong with any of it.
Then the music started.
Obscene American rap music came blaring from his speaker at a volume that could be heard hundreds of metres away. The peaceful atmosphere he had presumably come to enjoy was instantly destroyed for everyone else.
I was livid. I tried hard to understand why anyone would think this was acceptable. There were plenty of other people on the beach, yet not one of them appeared to complain or even react. Whether they were more tolerant than me or simply unwilling to become involved, Who knows?
When I said that it was unfair for everyone else to be forced to listen to his choice of 'music,' my objection was dismissed as me being fussy. I then offered another possibility. Suppose I had brought a large hi-fi system onto the beach and started playing Mahler’s Eighth Symphony at full volume. Would that have been acceptable?
The answer was neither yes nor no, although I knew perfectly well what it would have been. Apparently, unwanted noise, which in my opinion is what this 'music' was, becomes more acceptable when it happens to be someone else’s unwanted noise/music.
Prevention may be better than a cure, but my hands were tied. Fortunately, I always take a pair of earplugs to the beach because I use them when swimming in the sea. On this occasion, they were required before I reached the water.
The plugs went in and the music disappeared completely. Unfortunately, so did the sound of the waves, the very sound I had come to hear. Still, silence was preferable to the performance being forced upon us.
About two hours later, I felt a nudge. I could not hear anything, so this was the only way to tell me that our unwanted DJ had packed away his office, loaded everything back onto his bicycle and left.
The earplugs came out, the waves returned and the beach sounded as it should again. Mahler would have to wait until I back home to Yambol.
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