We don't call him piano man. He's piano dude. Probably because we don't really like him.
Our hotel is right next to a tunnel that runs between the train station/beach area and the main town. There is a nice downward slope towards the main town, so piano dude sets up his keyboard at the top of the tunnel and his music just filters down, all the way through my window.
My only problem with this setup is that piano dude is really terrible. He has a very limited repertoire and he adds so many frills and runs and extras that it just... Well, it just ruins everything. One of the songs he chooses to butcher was written by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Were he dead, this rendition would make Sir Webber roll in his grave.
Fortunately, piano dude has a counterpart. Guitar man. Much more pleasant to listen to. Also less memorable, but oh well. In this case I think that's a good thing.
My window opens up all the way - there's a glass layer and a shutter layer and no screen in between, so you get directly at that ocean air. I love this window. I was so sad to leave it today. Because even though it has the perfect acoustic qualities to bring Memories directly to my ears when I'm trying to take a nap, it also brings in all sorts o other, more pleasant noises. Like the sound of waves, when the sea isn't so still that it looks like a lake. Or the sound of Italian men gossiping in the square below. Construction, replacing broken bricks with fresh ones, slapping down wet cement. Tour groups being led by tall, flag-wielding guides. Loud tourists. Ambulances. Rain. Roaring thunder. Trains and their whistles. All of these things can be heard through the open window, as clear as day. It's my favorite thing about our room, and something I will rather miss.
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