Down Where The Crickets Play : Part 1

"My name is Alfonso Pedro Gonsalez Alvarez and I'm from the little village of Cordoba, in Mexico. When you read this story, you'll think that I've been smokin' that loco weed. But I will reply no no. Not in our family. Ok, maybe my grandmother...but not in our house. She goes to her place behind the barn. So no, senor, no smokin' in our house.
This story is true. I can look into your eyes when I say that, because it is truly true.

But let me begin where it begins. My grandfather...he ride with the great Zorro. You maybe know him, no? Amigo, you don't know him? The great el Robino Hood of Mexico? The one who robbed from the rich and give to the poor? The one who, when the soldados chase, hides in the selva...the bush...the forest?
There they would often stay hiding for three days, seven days or for two weeks, who knows? Until ...how do you gringos say it...'the coast is clear?' Well at night, my grandfather, he would spend the time to listen to the grillos...grillos is what you say is crickets. You know the chirrp chirrp crickets?

One night, a night that my Grandfather will never forget, he realized that he had begun to understand the grillos. I mean how they talk. First, he understood one word and then two and then twenty. Twenty grillo words. He was so excited. In fact, he was so excited he shoot his pistol into the air six times. That was when the great Zorro went really mad. He wanted to kill him but when my grandfather said "please no, great Zorro. Not tonight. Not the night when I first began to understood the grillo talk. Really, great Zorro, I heard them talk."
When he heard that, the great Zorro just shook his head and walked away.

My grandfather, he was the very clever one. He then made a grilllo box. A cigar box with one long horsehair stretched from the one side to the other side. The bow, it was made from a bent stick, and also had a horsehair from one side to the other. When he pull the bow, the box he go chirrp chirrp. He was muy clever, that Grandfather.
But for why must you listen to me? Why me, when you can listen to that great professor from Boston with that small English hat. The one who did not wear the big Sombrero like we do."

* * *
"Dear Reader. May I introduce myself? My name is Prof James Harding of the faculty of English, at Boston University RI. I came to Cordoba, in the North of Mexico, when we heard about a most remarkable man known as Alfonso Alvarez. I was sent here, when it was reliably reported to us that this man had recently learned to converse with crickets, using his so-called grillo device.
He had, we heard, broken the Grillo Code. We were absolutely fascinated by all this but, you will understand this, remained quite skeptical.
He told us that crickets seem to use combinations of chirrp, chirrrrrp. chorrp, chorrrrp, chirrp-chorrp and so on. In this way, it seems, they were able to create words.
In fact, he told me that typical conversations went something like this:

Male cricket:
"How're you doing?"
"Where are you babe?"
"Wanna come over?"

Female cricket:
"Oh I'm OK and you?"
"Sorry but I'm with someone else."
"Sorry I've got a headache."

This man, Alfonso, had not been satisfied with this rather low level of conversation. He wanted more. He wanted to move the level of the dialogue to its highest possible plane. He was looking for the ultimate cricket experience, we've been told.
Little did he realize that he would, quite soon, be granted his wish.
He wanted to discuss the intricacies of insect philosophies and to plumb the depths and scale the heights of insect artistic endeavor. Fortunately, many of his searches were rewarded.
There was that unforgettable night. A night of such excitement that Alfonso did not speak or eat for three days. He was totally stunned. After that he was like a man obsessed. He began to live only for the nights.
Each evening, he would sit on his veranda chair and make those fascinating chirrp chorrp sounds on his grillo box. He would do this until he would hear the sound of a single cricket. Not any cricket. He always waited for a very special cricket.
The sound made by this particular cricket was, apparently, quite majestic. It chirped in major keys and it chirped in counterpoint. It had timbre, overtones and was a master of harmonics. It made such glorious sounds that the whole family would often put down their knives and forks during their evening meal or, at other times, switch off the TV, just to listen to his nightly performances.

Let me now hand over to the son of Alfonso. He'll give you the rest of the story in his own voice. It begins when his Papa spoke openly to him about his totally absorbing fascination."