“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.” – Roger Miller
Most people here avoid the rain.
When the littlest drops start to fall, everyone runs for cover, taking shelter in sushi bars and coffee shops and cantinas. A few people brave the storm probably because they have somewhere to be…but they rush through it, holding bags over their heads or ducking and running.
But not me.
In fact, the thing I love most about being in Mexico in the summer is just that:
The rainy season.
The booming, drenching, immediately cooling rainstorms that turn La Quinta (the main street) into a mess of puddles just waiting for a pair of rain boots and a jump. That turn shady patios into thin, glistening waterfalls. That turn terrible, sweating heat into coolness, if only for a short time.
The rains really started last week. The first storm began just as Luna and I ducked into a sushi bar for some dinner. After dinner, Luna and I ran home through the streets, me laughing out loud and her shaking the raindrops off every few minutes – as if that tactic would work during a storm.
Then this morning, a morning that didn’t start off great, the sprinkling started again. I strapped on my backpack (with my wallet safely ensconced in a plastic bag) and walked to the local coffee shop, face turned toward the sky, shoulders back, feeling better with every drop.
When I got home, I rinsed out my hair in one of the little waterfalls coming off our roof.
I might have been singing – or perhaps laughing – all the while.
I think my neighbor thinks I’m crazy. Or bohemian. Or maybe sexy.
And I guess he’d be right, really.
Crazy, bohemian, and sexy. And desperately in love with the drenching rainstorms.
When was the last time you played in the rain?