One problem we found living in Mallorca (and I’m sure many parts of Europe) was that bedrooms were often built at the front of the house, so your window opened onto the street.
This was fine except for the Spaniards’ penchant for staying out til all hours, then clip-clopping down the cobbled street in heels before stopping outside our window to chat or sing at 5am.

My flatmate’s solution was usually to fling open the shutters and stand nude, silhouetted in the window, while politely suggesting that they “F**k off”. It rarely worked.

A California girl myself, it shouldn’t have been that jarring, but two years abroad did sensitize me to it again.

Here in Turkey I can handle the Arab-inspired volume just fine… until it comes time for bed. That’s when I start cursing the so-called ‘lullabies’ Turkish parents sing to their children, which, to me, sound like shrill cries of pain.

I’ve found that most Turks also like to fall asleep with the TV going full-blast, which makes sleep for me nearly impossible. Come morning all is well again… That is, if I can make it through the night!

I know exactly what you mean about mistaking a loud conversation for an argument, Heather. My friend in university used to have booming, wall-rattling conversations with her mother on the phone in Polish. Though she always sounded angry to me, she insisted that they were just chit-chatting about banal stuff. I can imagine your confusion, but as always, your dilemma has produced a great read for the rest of us.