We who live in Singapore can pretty much call ourselves experts on rain. After all, we have one of the highest rates of lightning activity in the world, and a stunning average of 171 thunderstorm days a year. (And to think we call it ‘Sunny Singapore’.) So we know our rain – in all its various permutations.
There’s the downpour. That’s when Candy comes running up to my room and Brilliant goes to the toilet to hide. And the best thing to do is to curl up in bed under quilt covers, with windows open just enough to let in the wind but not the rain, and read or sleep. This happens quite rarely – not because downpours are rare, but because finding time for a leisure read or sleep is rare. I used to wonder how the sky could ever hold so much water. I still do sometimes; but more often, I just indulge in the fresh smell of the ionized air.
Then there’s the shower in the sun. The sun is high and bright; and it rains. It’s hot, it’s humid, and overall, gross. You can feel the clamminess emanating off the road. I really dislike those.
Also, the big droplets. The rain isn’t necessarily heavy, but the droplets sure are. From indoors, it sounds deceptively soft. But you get drenched in no time when you step out.
Of course, there’s the everlasting drizzle. This usually makes for the gloomy days; it can go on for hours on end, and ruin a perfectly planned Captain’s ball, frisbee, or beach outing. Oh well, at least we don’t have volcanoes or earthquakes.
Lastly (there are probably more, but 5 is a good enough number), there’s the sprinkle in the wind. The raindrops are so small and so light that they don’t come down in straight lines; you can see them waving about in the wind in a wonderfully chaotic manner.
I walked through one of those today, as I headed to school for the second time. I had an umbrella, but I didn’t
need want to use it. That was nice.
“And I was really there. And that was enough to make me feel infinite.” – Charlie, Perks of being a Wallflower