It's a total cliche, but it's true. I wouldn't even call it rain; I'd say torrential downpour. It's torrential downpouring right now as I write. The rain here isn't a silly drip that lingers for hours or comes and goes as it pleases, the rain in Southeast Asia during the rainy season happens once every other day and it it's always on time. It's not lazy; it bleeds from the sky like a deep, gushing and gashing wound, working hard to clean (or drown) this dirty city. About every other day around 4 o'clock to 4:30 in the afternoon, an alarmingly loud sound appears out of nowhere. I remember hearing the rain for the first time here. I was sleeping and suddenly my ears perked up to discover what sounded like the violent smashing of tin outside. Waking up in a panic, I asked, WHAT IS THAT? It was stupid, but the sound, eruption, and unexpectedness of it all caught me off guard. However now I know about the rain because the sky gives it away every time. A black eeriness shelters the heaven above, leaving the city dark and with a vibe that tells you something is going to happen. Luckily, I shoved the drying laundry under the balcony roof just in time. Looking out now, I only see sheets of rain in the sky.
Unfortunately I do no justice in describing the rain, so I'll let Edgar Drake, character from Daniel Mason's The Piano Tuner (set in Burma circa 1886), describe it in a much more imaginative way:
"Indeed, I have never seen anything like the rain here. The drizzle that we call rain in England is nothing compared to the pounding of a monsoon. At once, the sky opens and soaks everything, everyone runs for shelter, the footpaths turn to mud, to rivers, the trees shake, and water pours off leaves as if out of a jug, there is nothing dry....I could write for pages only about the rain, the way it falls, the different sizes of the drops and how they feel on your face, its taste and smell, and its sound. Indeed, I could write for pages only on its sound, on thatch, on leaves, on tin, on willow."
Unfortunately I do no justice in describing the rain, so I'll let Edgar Drake, character from Daniel Mason's The Piano Tuner (set in Burma circa 1886), describe it in a much more imaginative way:
"Indeed, I have never seen anything like the rain here. The drizzle that we call rain in England is nothing compared to the pounding of a monsoon. At once, the sky opens and soaks everything, everyone runs for shelter, the footpaths turn to mud, to rivers, the trees shake, and water pours off leaves as if out of a jug, there is nothing dry....I could write for pages only about the rain, the way it falls, the different sizes of the drops and how they feel on your face, its taste and smell, and its sound. Indeed, I could write for pages only on its sound, on thatch, on leaves, on tin, on willow."
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