Rainy Days in PoA

It rained a lot in Porto Alegre.

Perhaps I should have taken it as a clue when I first arrived and the airplane had to circle the city for quite some time before landing.

But, I liked the rain.

Except when it soaked through my shoes and into my socks.

And except when cars surfed by on the road and splashed me on the sidewalk.

Except for those things.

There was just something almost romantic and adventurous in setting out, armed with an umbrella, to hop through a downpour on my way to the bus...

It did feel like hopping. There were all sorts of gaping puddles to avoid. And there were also strange pieces of sidewalk, where it appeared that square foot tiles had been placed upon uneven dirt. Sometimes you'd step on the wrong tile to discover that it was only loosely covering a well of water that would promptly come raining down upon your ankle and foot.

Nice.

But, no, really. It's not just romantic conjecture now that I'm no longer there and am recalling my time tere wistfully.

I did enjoy the rain. The sound of it battering the windowpanes as I slept. How Cipote would always want to cuddle because it scared him. How big the drops of water were. How absolutely saturated and green the world became.

The happy reflection of the sky on the wet ground in between showers...

Ah, so beautiful...