Wednesday evening. We have had a great week. Everything is up and running, routines in place, teachers learning English, instructors teaching English and some newbies learning how to teach English. Feeling a modicum of satisfaction.
Right now, it is raining ferociously. Hammering down. It’s like standing under a waterfall. We are on the second floor of a two story concrete four-plex, it is so loud we can’t hear anything, nothing but the rain.
It started as we approached our road to the gate. When we got to the gate, it was in full swing. We honked for Joseph to open the gate (that’s one of his jobs) and waited. He probably couldn’t hear it. Don was driving so I said that I’d get out and open it. I’m an Oregonian. I know rain. How bad can it be, she said naively.
I opened the car door and was hit with a blast of water that took my breath away, and slammed the door. I was soaked. We giggled about yet another new experience. In truth, I’d never been in a rain storm quite like this one and yes, I have lived in Texas and I worked in the tropic for over a decade.
Finally, I gathered my courage and opened the door. In the 3 minutes it took me to open the gate, for Don to drive through and for me to get back in the car, I was wetter than I’ve ever been when full clothed. Dripping. Water cascading off my body, in my ears, down my back, in my shoes; dripping off my arms, onto my hands and the floor of the car.
We drove to our front door. The steps into our four plex were only 3 feet away. Still we didn’t venture out for a few minutes. It seemed to pause a little and into the breach we went. Unbelievably, I got wetter. We splashed up the marble steps and into our entry way, shockingly wet.
The roads we arrived on are rivers. Not a soul in sight. They are not stupid. They know. And now, we do too.