Monsoon Calling

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Abstract

from head to toe in less time than what it takes to say: ahhhhh. Now I am in Albuquerque, and at the same time, I am not. I get transported to places where rain visits more frequently than to this city in the middle of the desert. Buenos Aires during the Sudestada, the torrential rain that lasts for days, during which neighborhoods in the lower part of the city get flooded. The stories I heard about people cycling in the rain in South East Asia so to make it to church or to work.The rain takes me to a place where I had never been and it’s unlikely I will be back. The downpour is so strong that it feels as if I am cycling inside an ocean. The street is flooded and I work my way through the water. The normally dry arroyos are roaring with water, their destiny fulfilled.My morbid self wants me to be hero

Options

for one day and thinks: “What if there’s a helpless child who has been taken by the current!” I can see the headlines: “hero-nurse-cyclist from Argentina rescues boy, singlehandedly from roaring arroyo”. My ego has a mind of its own. But thankfully no one is being taken down by the arroyo today, and I think about the bodies of water that connect the European cities. I think of riding my bicycle next to the Inn river, as it closes into Innsbruck. I think of vacationing in Nicaragua where rain falls in the afternoon every day, in September.I arrive at the place I now call home. My beagle and my wife receive me as if I was back from war. “I told you I would be back”, I often tell her. She calls me and I go. Wouldn’t you?<a href="undefined">Pablo Pereyra</a> 2019.</article></body>

Monsoon Calling

Where will the rain take you?

Photo by the Pablo Pereyra

Thunder calls from the sky: “Go, seek shelter, rain is coming”, it announces to mankind. But I am not all men, or rather I don’t behave as most. And as the rain arrives, I go out into the world.

As my hospital shift ends, there is no doubt Monsoon season has arrived. There is a mountain of water pouring down outside the hospital walls. I rode my bicycle today. My friends offer me a ride home. I would really like to go with one of them, but how can I say no to the rain?

As I leave the parking structure, I get soaked from head to toe in less time than what it takes to say: ahhhhh. Now I am in Albuquerque, and at the same time, I am not. I get transported to places where rain visits more frequently than to this city in the middle of the desert. Buenos Aires during the Sudestada, the torrential rain that lasts for days, during which neighborhoods in the lower part of the city get flooded. The stories I heard about people cycling in the rain in South East Asia so to make it to church or to work.

The rain takes me to a place where I had never been and it’s unlikely I will be back. The downpour is so strong that it feels as if I am cycling inside an ocean. The street is flooded and I work my way through the water. The normally dry arroyos are roaring with water, their destiny fulfilled.

My morbid self wants me to be hero for one day and thinks: “What if there’s a helpless child who has been taken by the current!” I can see the headlines: “hero-nurse-cyclist from Argentina rescues boy, singlehandedly from roaring arroyo”. My ego has a mind of its own. But thankfully no one is being taken down by the arroyo today, and I think about the bodies of water that connect the European cities. I think of riding my bicycle next to the Inn river, as it closes into Innsbruck. I think of vacationing in Nicaragua where rain falls in the afternoon every day, in September.

I arrive at the place I now call home. My beagle and my wife receive me as if I was back from war. “I told you I would be back”, I often tell her. She calls me and I go. Wouldn’t you?