If you are a sensitive, if you are a poet, if you are a transcendent thinker, you may notice that the FIRST time it rains on your travels it feels like a baptism, a response from Nature that validates your own liminal experience. You may feel like your journey has been witnessed by something other than yourself. Your road is washed clean. You feel rejuvenated.
The next time it rains, you just feel rained on. Especially having left your rain jacket at the hostel. That has been my experience. But I am easily jaded J
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| Day Trip to Padua, with pink, broken umbrella, to see Giotto's frescoes at Scrovegni Chapel |
I did find an umbrella at A Venice Fish, my hostel, to use for a day. But when people leave things at hostels, they are usually broken or unusable in some unsalvageable way. Pink and broken. Perfect J
Still, there is something magical about rain. In Venice, the rain starts with a drizzle, then a spattering, than a full on downpour (all within seconds). You can HEAR the weather changing in the space of a minute. And five minutes later, it ends. People were under their umbrellas under awnings at the side of the streets. Risers were in the middle of the cobble-stoned streets preparing for the flood. It’s like the earth says, I will take what I need and that is all. I need moisture, I need sustenance, but I don’t need a drenching…not yet anyway.
Of course, Venice is a wonderful reminder that, eventually, nature will take back what we have built upon, cover what we think is majestic, and start anew. So go see Venice while you can. Actually, because I am a cynic, I admit that we are more likely to protect Venice than our glacier caps. So go see the glaciers while you can.
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