Sunday, February 12, 2012

Noah's Ark

It must have been a sign, those ornate ceramic candelabras that depicted Noah's ark. I even walked into the tienda to take a closer look. (Not exactly like the one in the photo, but you get the idea.)

A day later, the weather gods of San Miguel rumbled and roared, lit up the skies, and then wept with a deluge that has been constant now for three days and three nights.
With only one paragua (umbrella) between us, my husband and I have to take turns leaving the casa. Yes, of course, he could go out and buy one, but he has several umbrellas sitting at home.

It's easy to understand why he didn't shove one into his suitcase. Last year at this time, a cloud, a single cloud, was an event. "Oh, there goes a cloud." We'd almost forgotten what one of those fluffy white things looked like, let alone what can happen when hordes band together and let loose. So, this rain business is new to us and definitely not welcome.

Sure, the rain is good for the farmers and their crops. And all those flowers and small trees in pots that adorn the courtyards and terraces of San Miguel are much better for the wet stuff. But we tourists with limited time in what we thought was Paradise are not so thrilled. Hell, I woke up this morning, took one look out the ventanna, and was certain that we'd gone to Seattle, not sunny Mexico.

Along with the rain came cooler temperatures. I hesitate to write that it dropped to the lowers 40s because, as a Chicagoan, a thermometer reading of 40-something in February is cause to bring out the shorts and tank tops. But here there is no central heating. There is no insulation against the chilly nights. Windows barely close, doors are made of glass, and, in our casa, the center of the house is open all the way to the terrace on the third floor.

Yes, we have fireplaces - one in the living room and one in the master bedroom - but they're small and gas. If you sit practically in them, one can warm up. But they are useless for heating an entire room, let alone an entire house.

So, like my brothers and sisters up north who face the frigid weather daily, I'm dressing in layers, (two pair of pajamas at night), taking an inordinate number of showers (though the hot water either never gets really hot or runs out much too quickly), and scouring online weather sites, praying that the cloud icons with rain drops change to bright yellow suns and SOON.