Sunday, March 27, 2011

Life in the Monsoon

I wrote yesterday that we were in the middle of a monsoon and, at that time, I thought I was exaggerating.  Apparently I wasn't.

In the past week, scattered downpours have turned into unyielding torrents.  The past 48 hours hasn't seen more than 5 minutes of continuous sun or moon and, while it's interesting to experience different sorts of weather, the humidity is taking its toll.  Dry clothes are becoming more difficult to come by so I end up wearing my least damp shirt under my totally drenched not-so-waterproof rainjacket.  Since it never dries, it's all starting to smell of mildew.  On Saturday I made the mistake of wearing shoes, jumping over puddles, walking the winding paths of high ground.  I was doing a pretty good job of staying dry until my scooter stalled out right in the middle of a big puddle.  I let out a girlish yelp as I sunk ankle deep into the stagnant pool.  I set my shoes out to dry on the deck overnight.  During the night, it seems, the wind blew at the specific velocity and direction required to completely saturate them with rainwater.  Alright, stinky wet shoes.  I guess that means sandals from now on.

To add to the chaos, the wind has picked up dramatically.  You may be surprised to hear that falling coconuts and palm branches are actually really dangerous.  We didn't notice until now just how many ripe coconuts and dead branches there were on the kazillion or so palm trees of Ko Phangan.

The view from our beach hut has changed from clean sand and calm blue waters to grey white-capped seas backing a debris-strewn shore and the soundtrack every night is the beating of rain and the thud of falling branches.

There's a little pond by our bungalow that used to be nearly empty and is now overflowing.  Somehow, there's still life in there because an ugly catfish-eel hybrid flopped out of it just in front of our steps.  Robyn implored me to save it and I, being the epitome of masculinity, decided to pick it up with my hands.  I had barley touched it when it started to wriggle around.  I jumped up with a screech waving my hands in the air.  It was the most pathetic attempt at machoism you've ever seen.  Naturally, Robyn found it very amusing.

The strangest thing about the weather is that even the locals are confused by it.  Monsoon season occurs from June to October and this wet spell has been ongoing from December to now.  It's usually a tropical paradise but now ferries have been cancelled, the power has been spotty, and people are just hanging out, waiting for a sun that may never come (Too dramatic?).

First sunny day, we're getting outta here.  I'm actually supposed to be researching our next destination now so maybe I'll get back to it... maybe

David J Parker


  1. I'm sorry you are in the middle of a typhoon but it was still a great blog. Maybe Robyn could sing 'The sun will come out tomorrow' from Annie. That usually works.

  2. ...or "I'm Beginning To See the Light" by The Duke.