All Wet and Wary

It’s monsoon season. For real. Apparently there are two monsoon seasons, which sort of accounts for the different answers I get whenever I ask people when the monsoon happens. Even if there weren’t two seasons, there is no doubt that we’re experiencing the monsoon now. We have had a downpour every day for the past 10 or 11 days. I think I’ve been caught in about half of them. Hard, driving rains that leave no option but staying indoors or getting an immediate and thorough soaking. Usually they start in the late afternoon/early evening, so they nail you on your way home from work or kybosh any efforts you might make to look good for going out. Without a car, and living where I do (where you have to walk quite a ways to get to the tri-shaws), there’s no point even trying to look good in this weather. My umbrella and hair are no match for it. The rain is relentless. My only options are to roll up my pant legs, get muddy and wear my hair in a bun or ponytail.

When I’m forced to walk in the rain, or even after the rain, I can’t help but think of all the crap, both literal and figurative, that is flowing through the streets. Rivers of cow dung, dog poop, urine, rice and curry (people leave their extras from dinner in the streets for the dogs, and probably by extension rats), discarded wrappers, copious amounts of betel spit, the charred remains of garbage fires… blechh. Everyone, including me, wears open sandals and with water flowing at ankle depth in many parts, I cringe at the various bacteria adhering to my skin. As soon as I get home—or anywhere—I wash my feet. It’s important to watch out for cuts on your feet too. When you’re exposed to the street sewage daily, an infection can rear up pretty quickly.

With the onset of the monsoon, the puddle in my livingroom has been making regular appearances. Today it become a small pond. A small orange/brown pond. I don’t even want to know…  I’m choosing to believe the colouring is because the wood stain on the ceiling is tinting the water as it flows down. Yeah, that’s it. I also noted after I’d removed the water, mopped up what was left and emptied the last buckets, more water was seeping in from under a door connecting my landlord’s livingroom and mine. I guess the leak is happening on his side too. Oh joy.

On Sunday I went to a friend’s for roast dinner. (I was going to bike but glad I didn’t since it rained for four hours.) One of the guests at the dinner party mentioned some interesting things. First, I learned that there is a rule that police can’t do a house inspection at a place where a woman resides without at least one of those police officers being a woman as well. If this is true, that means that the 6 a.m. visit the police paid me on my first weekend in my house was actually illegal. Armed with this knowledge, I’m now prepared for any other surprise inspections.

Second, apparently it is illegal to carry condoms in public. It’s legal to buy them and they are available at pharmacies around the city but if the police pull you over on your way home from the pharmacy and find the condoms on you, they can arrest you. According to this guest, such arrests happen quite often.

Finally – and I haven’t verified this but the guest swore it was true – the British High Commission recently moved location and put the old land up for sale. It’s prime real estate on the waterfront, near the swank hotels and the prime minister’s or the president’s house. Three bidders came forward for the property with plans to build condominiums (yes, that happens here too) – two foreign investors and the brother of the president. Surprise, surprise, four days before the bid closing date, a new law was put into place forbidding construction over four storeys (or something low). So the other two bidders dropped out and the brother was able to buy the land uncontested. A month later, the law was stricken from the books. How convenient.

There’s a corner that I have to pass on my way to Jesse’s and I invariably hit a red light there. The other day, while I was waiting, I noticed a guy was talking at the pay phone and a cow was standing behind him. It didn’t look like the cow and the guy were acquainted in any way. It just looked like the cow was waiting to use the phone. Today, I swear the same cow was standing there staring at the phone again. I think he might be expecting a call. Or he thinks the phone stand is his mother.