Rain and Showers

Over the weekend, it rained a lot. Not the kind of rain I’m used to. Rain comes down in gigantic drops, so fast it sounds a bit like the Indy 500 is happening right outside my door. My housemate says it’s hardly raining at all. When it really gets going, it falls in sheets. In the worst storm he’s ever seen, he couldn’t even see sheets. The sky was dumping buckets of water instead of drops.

When there is a break in the rain, the air remains heavy with moisture. It’s beyond humid, a woolen blanket of air weighing me down when I try to move. I have to remember to take a deep breath every now and then because the air stubbornly tries to avoid my lungs. It’s good for my skin, bad for my hair, and all around fantastic.

Some of my friends from Chicago might remember a trip to the Taste of Chicago in 1999, when we hid under trees and trash can lids and whatever we could find while it rained hard and fast. After just fifteen minutes, the drains were overwhelmed and the streets had collected four or five inches of water. The weekend was like that, only for hours. There were large puddles everywhere, but it didn’t flood. I understand that it does flood here quite often though. That’s why I came equipped with a pair of Wellies.

Last night at dusk, around 6:30, I ventured out. My ATM card hadn’t worked at the ATM I tried at the mall and I needed to get some cash. By the time I’d walked the two blocks to the security gate, it was starting to sprinkle. The guard smiled at me and said, “Miss, hujan, hujan,” as he pointed to the sky. It means “rain.” I smiled back and said, “I’m ok,” because I only know about five words of Indonesian so far. (Now six, thanks to the guard.)

The ATM was another block, and it was sprinkling a bit harder by the time I got there. I got my cash without incident and came back outside to proper rain. But instead of going back the way I came, I continued on to the shop. I was hungry and I only had breakfast-type groceries (the grocery store is so overwhelming, I have to shop in small doses). By the time I turned the corner from the ATM, it was pouring down rain again and I was soaked. It felt wonderful. I’d been so hot all day (not a complaint, just a reality) the cool water was a welcome relief. I made it to the shop and got some stares from the other customers. I just smiled. I have found rather quickly that if you smile at an Indonesia, you’re rewarded with the warmest, toothiest smile in return.

After leaving the shop, I found the rain had returned to its earlier pace and there was no avoiding getting absolutely soaked unless I wanted to wait it out. Not knowing if it would be a few minutes or a few hours, I just went. I was wet already anyway. The streets were empty. There weren’t even people out with umbrellas. It was about a five-minute walk back to my house and I had to pass through another security gate to get back. The guards inside all shouted, “Miss, hujan, hujan,” like maybe I hadn’t noticed. I smiled and waived and told them I was ok. Just inside the gate, I saw the first flash of lightning. I was a little bit concerned, not wanting to get struck down before I’d even taught my first class, so I picked up my pace a little bit. The flashes were infrequent and far away, so I just kept on walking. About two blocks down, one of the security guards ran up behind me with an umbrella. In the time it had taken me to walk two blocks, they must have been debating what to do about the weird American who was out in the rain. I told him I was really okay and that it was a little bit late for an umbrella. I’m not sure whether he believed me, but he did go back to his guardhouse. When I got home, I squeezed the water out of my clothes while standing under a tin awning, hoping the lightning was still far away. I came in, changed, and felt much cooler for the first time all day.

The guards’ concern for me was so cute. I learned from my housemates that Indonesians simply will not go out in the rain. They stay where they are until it stops. Since sometimes that is hours, I don’t really get it. But I get the sense that, in general, things move more slowly here than at home, so it might not be that weird to hang out for hours and wait for the rain to stop. For me, I wouldn’t want to be caught in a deluge on the way to work, but when I was out for a Sunday evening stroll, I was unfazed.

Since I’ve been talking about rain showers, a quick word about the other kind: there is no hot water here. Even in the heat, it still takes my breath away to step under a cold stream of water. The first day, I went straight from my air conditioned bedroom into the shower. When I realized there were no temperature controls on the faucet, I tested the water with my shin. Brr. But there was nothing else to be done if I wanted to get clean, so I splashed some water on my shoulders. Yeow. Slowly, I introduced the cold water to my stomach and my back, and finally, after several minutes, I took the plunge and stuck my head under. After a few seconds, it was fine.

On Saturday, the day of my second shower, I came downstairs first, to thaw out after sleeping in the cold. It was a smart thing to do, but it didn’t make the cold water any easier to get used to. On Sunday, I resolved to suck it up and put my head right in. If I’m going to take a shower every day, it is ridiculous to spend so much time working up to it. But when it came time to do it, I chickened out and went through my splashing ritual. But when I finally stuck my head in, I counted to see how long before my breathing returned to normal. Ten seconds. That’s it.

I’m about to go have my shower for today, so we’ll see how it goes. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. When the dry season gets here and it gets really hot (or so they tell me—right now it’s about 86 every day, so that seems pretty hot already), maybe the shower will feel refreshing, especially after getting home from work at night. I read somewhere recently that most Indonesians take at least two showers a day. It’s a terrible waste of water and the fact that there is no recycling here already hurts my heart a bit, but maybe I’ll change my mind about that come October.