Oaxaca is now in the official "wet season". If we were working and hiking in the mountains still, we would be excited every morning to get out of the car and try not to race our guests to the first lookout of the morning to see how green our mountains are. We would be trying to contain ourselves as the paths turned green again, of the fog and clouds rolled through the valleys and we guessed if it would rain over lunch or not. We would be excited to see how our favorite agave were maturing.
Rainy season in Oaxaca is what I refer to as a best kept secret. People imagine monsoons, 12 hours of rain every day, Raincoats and soggy wet socks. No, rainy season is lovely cool evenings with a breeze. It means rain between 5ish and 7ish every day, maybe for an hour, maybe for 15 minutes. Maybe a sprinkle, maybe enough rain to turn the streets into rivers.
Each rainy season I have lived here, two things happen when the rains come. I can sleep so well again. Before the rains, it is so hot that we struggle to find a comfortable arrangement between electricity sucking air conditioner, stand up fan, larger lower fan occasionally propped in front of the door, on a step ladder, trying to suck the somewhat cooler air into the bedroom and blow it over the bed. The cats abandon the will to live, attempting to stretch themselves into some cooler version of themselves in various locations of the house.
And the second is I always remember as a kid, a huge rain storm had hit in Montreal, and my father told us to get our swimsuits on. We were kids, the very mention of swimsuits had us running to our rooms. He took us down the circular wooden staircase and out the back door of the shed into the lane and into the rain. The rainwater had filled the gutters of the flat roofs and the drainpipes created mini water falls. We ran through them, splashing and screaming. The warm rain on the warm day sliding off our arms and legs as we ran, chasing each other through the huge puddles. I don't recall what swimsuit was my favorite that summer, but I recall the joy of running in the rain. It didn't matter if anyone else was in the lane, running like wild animals through the downpour. We were. I recall the look of happiness on my father's face (it is one of only a few memories I have of him as a child), and I recall the lesson. Bring joy, experience joy, be bold. Run in the rain.
Rainy season in Oaxaca is what I refer to as a best kept secret. People imagine monsoons, 12 hours of rain every day, Raincoats and soggy wet socks. No, rainy season is lovely cool evenings with a breeze. It means rain between 5ish and 7ish every day, maybe for an hour, maybe for 15 minutes. Maybe a sprinkle, maybe enough rain to turn the streets into rivers.
Each rainy season I have lived here, two things happen when the rains come. I can sleep so well again. Before the rains, it is so hot that we struggle to find a comfortable arrangement between electricity sucking air conditioner, stand up fan, larger lower fan occasionally propped in front of the door, on a step ladder, trying to suck the somewhat cooler air into the bedroom and blow it over the bed. The cats abandon the will to live, attempting to stretch themselves into some cooler version of themselves in various locations of the house.
And the second is I always remember as a kid, a huge rain storm had hit in Montreal, and my father told us to get our swimsuits on. We were kids, the very mention of swimsuits had us running to our rooms. He took us down the circular wooden staircase and out the back door of the shed into the lane and into the rain. The rainwater had filled the gutters of the flat roofs and the drainpipes created mini water falls. We ran through them, splashing and screaming. The warm rain on the warm day sliding off our arms and legs as we ran, chasing each other through the huge puddles. I don't recall what swimsuit was my favorite that summer, but I recall the joy of running in the rain. It didn't matter if anyone else was in the lane, running like wild animals through the downpour. We were. I recall the look of happiness on my father's face (it is one of only a few memories I have of him as a child), and I recall the lesson. Bring joy, experience joy, be bold. Run in the rain.
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