The rain streams down from silver grey sky. For two hours it has alternated between drizzling and pouring. Incessant. I am stranded but at least I am dry. For now.
Curled up on a cracked brown leather arm chair with a cup of hot milky coffee in my favourite cafe, I sit and watch and wait for the right moment to leave. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. I know. I’ve seen this monsoon rain before but today I was not prepared. Not anticipating the relentless downpour, I ventured out in short cotton dress and leggings without my poncho. If I want to make it home this afternoon then I will have to ride in the rain, my clothing, my skin, unprotected. It will be a wet, cold, stinging journey home. This I also know. I've done it before.
The shower wanes. I brace, anticipating the moment to grab my handbag and make my escape. Then seconds later it intensifies once more. Too heavy and too wet to safely drive home. I sit back.
I wait. And watch. And wait. And watch. The rhythm of the rain. Streaming for endless minutes, ebbing teasingly before intensifying once more. The pattern repeating.
Somehow, in my waiting and watching, I find a small piece of inner calm. Or rather, it finds me, sneaking upon me in the breaths between the waiting and watching. Accepting that in this moment this is where I am and there is nothing I can do to change it. I relax and enjoy the beauty of the falling rain and a small piece of peace.
Then it starts pouring harder once again and the moment passes. I look at the clock. It’s 3 o’clock. I’ve been held captive here for two and a half hours and all I can think is “Bloody hell, am I ever going to make it home today?”
Chao Fa West Road, Chalong, Flooded
Rain passing by, Naiharn Beach, Phuket, Thailand
Night-time rain, Ao Chalong, Phuket
More night-time rain, Ao Chalong, Phuket