Here, the weather isn't small talk

I was strongly considering what to write about in my first entry. Having just returned from a mango break, I considered food. Sitting at my computer in the office, work would have been another natural option. But as I sit here, sweat is rolling down my face, so I think that I will write about the weather. I am additionally inspired by fellow writers recounts of the meteorological happenings in their respective parts of Canada. Weather is a bit fascinating, I think.

Today, or rather right now, the sun is brightly shining and it is hot! The heat and sun today is what I expected Guate to be like, despite warnings of coming during the rainy season. A good sweat here and there is certainly welcome, especially after a very wet spring (that is continuing to be so) in Victoria. The strength of the sun can easily render one ill with heat stroke or exhaustion fairly quickly.

But rainy season it is. As tropical storms and hurricanes begin their assaults on coastal regions throughout the Carribean, the southern US and Central America, I felt a sense of security being a good 7 hours in from the Pacific waters. However, when the rain starts, it is intense. Yesterday afternoon, I watched the weather turn from warm and sunny to dark and cool in literally the span of 5 minutes. Dark grey clounds rushed in from over the mountains and released their contents on the town. Huge drops pounded down, and within a short time the roads began to flood. The streets soon resembled rivers with brisk currents and muddy bottoms. The rain continued relentlessly for a few hours, and again last night.

Stormy nights are incredible here. Growing up in southwestern Ontario, sheet lightening happened regularly at night after the hot summer days, and here it happens much more regularly. Each flash shows glimpses of the dark rain clouds that still hang in the sky, drifting just quickly enough to notice them. When the rain is heavy, the sounds of the town are different. It is usually so loud that the rain is the only thing you can hear. It echos off the taracotta or sheet metal rooves, and pounds loudly on the concrete sidewalks. The dogs aren't barking, the crickets aren't chirping, and there is no one biking through the streets with advertisments blaring. There may be a frog ribbeting or the rustling of a palm tree outside my window, but the nights are free of human produced noise. Listening to the rain here is a humbling experience.

Guatemala is certainly a country of dualities, and one of extremes. I feel the weather illustrates this point perfectly.