And Yet More Rain
Diary of a Witch Doctor 6/May/2024
The view outside my window © A. Harrison
So once more I’ve woken to rain. Not the gentle patter of dreams, but a downpour which has left my backyard afloat and left me flooded in, if only for a few hours until the tide drops. At least a falling tree hasn’t taken out the power.
Yet lying in bed listening to the storm brings memories of how rain permeate my travels.
Not so long ago I was walking the streets of Florence in a light drizzle, droplets of rain falling from my hat as I laughed at street vendors trying to sell me an umbrella. I suppose they have to try, but it seriously wasn’t rain. Not like the rain falling outside my window.
An empty street, a resting sundial, the courtyard of the Bargello © A. Harrison
Still, walking in the rain is such an excellent way to see Florence, for it allowed me to find unlikely things in unexpected places. A cat cafe. Streets devoid of tourists, afraid of getting wet. The ancient stone of the buildings glistening with water. A sundial having a day off. Rain falling into the open courtyard of the Bargello, the ancient stone shields on the wall dripping.
The next day, naturally, dawned with brilliant sunshine.
In Luang Prabang, Laos a tropical downpour began just as we reached the hotel. Soon the streets were bubbling with water. It was, after all, the start of the wet season, and within a few weeks the mighty Mekong would swell and spill over into the surrounding lands. The next morning I watch some monks, after collecting their morning alms, battling to cross the river in the rain.
Anyone who’s visited the tropics knows the feel of a brewing storm. That increasing tension as both heat and humidity climb, then the startling relief as the sky is split asunder and the contents of the heavens plummet to the ground.
Rain doing its best to flood us in over lunch © A. Harrison
In Singapore giant white clouds had been brewing all day on the horizon. By lunchtime they hovered almost on top of us.
As we wandered the various stalls in one of the Hawker Malls, deciding on lunch, they finally could hold no more. I could barely see through the wall of water cascading down the open side of the mall. A perfect excuse for some Hainese Chicken and rice, along with carrot cake (which is not a cake and contains no carrots). Soon the rain stopped, and the world began to steam.
Which leaves me with the problem of the unending rain at home. Winter approaches, and my yard is not steaming. Instead, I’m left pondering: is there a golden ratio equating rainfall, mud churned up by my dog as he runs about the yard, and when does washing the floor stop being a futile exercise?
Monks crossing the Mekong, Luang Prabang © A. Harrison
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