The first few drops hardly caught my notice. My eyes were busy, traveling through the stores we passed and down the uneven sidewalks, past scooters and cars, walkers and talkers. Then, the drops began to fall harder, prompting a pop up of my umbrella.
And then, it began to pour.
Buckets and buckets of drops falling, beating the ground hard and fast, almost as if in anger. We ran for cover, waiting for it to lessen then started out again before ducking once more under an awning. The last dash to the hostel was soggy, the water unrelenting. Shoes squishing, shorts dripping. We splashed unsuspectingly into the puddle waiting to welcome us at the front door. A last wet goodnight before we turned in.
It’s been raining now for hours, hard and steady. On the roof it sounds like light drumming or a muted applause to a beautiful concert. Thumthumthumthumthum. Thumthumthumthum. Now that we’re out of it, tucked away inside, I can appreciate its determination to soak the earth, its intensity. Tonight, our last night before the new leg of the journey, it will lull us to sleep and make the city anew for the dawn.