It seems like ages ago that we sought shelter in that
increasingly narrow alley behind the shop where we were buying the sim card for
our phone when the sudden downpour began. This shop was the closest shelter we
could find. It was our first day in Vietnam. The rain was surprisingly
hard and fast. The downpour came with little warning, lasted only a few minutes
and ended just as suddenly it had begun. During that first rain I felt a mix of
excitement and dread. Is this what every day is going to be like?
Now as I sit in Mang Thit at a little outdoor shop that
serves coffee, my desire for the rain to pour down might just surpass my desire
for the ice cold coffee I just hiked 10 minutes to get. It was incredibly hot
as Bill and I walked into town. Bill makes mention of his back sweating under
his back pack- he chose to bring the small one today in an effort to avoid the
sweaty back- I laugh, but the mere mention of sweat makes me all too aware of
the sweat that is now beading up on my forehead and upper lip.
The rain has become our friend, our nearly constant
companion. We have at least some rain most days. I think of the 27 days we have
been on this trip, we have not had rain 3 days. Some days it is a quick
downpour over a few minutes and other days it drizzles off and on all day. When
the rain comes it is welcomed in with a sudden and oh-so-noticeable decrease in
temperature of at least 7 degrees. The breeze begins to blow and we watch as the
coconut trees in front of our house begin to sway. We get excited knowing that
our friend has come and brought relief from the ever present heat. During this
period there is a quick rush to get all the clothes in that are hanging outside
and to cover motos and firewood. We step out onto the porch to watch as this
sweet rain pours down. Here it comes. I feel the rain on my sleeveless arm- it
actually feels cold. It is so refreshing after having only felt my own sweat
for so many hours. We get this sweet relief every day.
Today we sit here with Nguyen and notice the looming clouds.
They are dark and grey. They sit ominously on the east side of town. They seem
to promise relief is coming. Hope grows in my heart. I point to them and ask
her “mua? Mua tam?” she shakes her head to say no. Hmm- did she understand my
accent? It is not raining right now- maybe that is why she said no. I will
choose to believe that while we sit here reading, watching, learning, it will
rain.
