Il pleut...

Everyday like clockwork it rains when I leave work to head home.  I don't really mind the rain, so long as I have my umbrella and boots on I'm good to go.  And if I am walking briskly then the cold isn't so bad too, in fact it's welcome as it means that I get nice and warm and not too hot from the exercise.  However, Western rain is not like home rain, as me and my sister discussed recently.

I was lucky enough, due to a series of unfortunate events, to get to experience the first rains at home.  A welcome change from the heat. Well in relative terms bringing down the temperature to around 40C is better than around 50C ;}.  What I love about the rain at home is all the pomp and circumstance that precedes it.  You you may see some lightning in the distance, you'll definitely hear some thunder announcing the impending rain and then you smell it in the moments before it decides to grace us with its presence.  And that is really the essence of African rain, the smell. The potent, earthy, natural smell that I have only ever experienced on the African continent and particularly in Zambia.  Before the sheets of rain that cause everything to come to a standstill, there is such an aroma of growth, renewal and cleansing that is intoxicating.  The rain itself is awesome too.  Awesome in its authority and sometimes terrifying too when it wakes you in the middle of the night. Also terrifying when you have to pull over because you can't see anything but white. Or brown when you misjudge how deep a puddle on the road is and are blinded for a coupla seconds from going too fast through it...;}