The Rains Have Come...

Although Steven argues that it is scientifically impossible, I truly believe that the thunder is louder here than in the states. Growing up in south Florida, I am no stranger to thunder, having lived through many summers of daily thunderstorms, and learning to love, and then miss, the thunder when I moved away. But the deep rumblings of my childhood have nothing on the ear-splitting, thunderclaps of Ho Chi Minh City. Thunder here, sounds as if lightning has struck a foot away on the pavement, but without the actual warning flash. While the buildings of the city block most of the lightning flashes, but they do nothing to muffle the excruciating cracks of thunder that follow. One moment I'm walking down the street, oblivious to any change in the weather and the next, I'm a foot in the air, seized with panic, wondering who set off the bomb. But ask Steven and he will tell you that it is just as loud in Indiana...

This morning, we awoke to the rains. After five months with barely a drop, save the mysterious deluge that soaked us during the Cyclo Challenge, the skies have opened. Suddenly, I remember soggy feet and saran-wrap thin ponchos bought hastily on street corners. Oh, yes, we did arrive here during the rainy season. But that seems so long ago. Has it really only been eight months?

As I hit the snooze, I dread the walk to the bus, not wanting to leave the dry haven of our apartment for the soggy streets of Saigon. I hurriedly shower, eat and dress, making it down to the street just at 6:20, time enough to catch my bus. But as I walked down our side alley to the streets behind our apartment building, I found that the streets we had walked the evening before on our way home from a trip for a rare treat of ice cream at KFC, were now completely hidden by over a foot of water. I stopped short and looked at the rising river that had hours before been a street and quickly ran through my options. I decided to walk to the end of the street, where it met a larger avenue, to see if my chances were any better. No luck there, either. Knowing I didn't have any time to spare, I took off my shoes, waded out to the end of the sidewalk and plunged my bare foot into the murky waters of the street. Cringing with the thought of the contents of the water, I held my skirt with one hand and sloshed across as fast as I could with my shoes held high.

Once, I got to the sidewalk, I was still faced with numerous water filled crossings at each drive that bisected the sidewalk, so I left my shoes off and braved the sidewalk barefoot, making a mental note to carry flip-flops in the future.

When I got to the end of the road, I saw my bus just pulling away from the stop, but luckily since it had to pass me to continue on its path, I just had to stick my hand out and wave it down. But instead of stopping, it just came to a slow crawl and the driver begin to yell something to me, making large sweeping gestures with his arms. I deduced that he wasn't taking the usual route because it was flooded, but before I could come up with a plan B, a woman in the back of the first bus pointed down the road to a second bus, another 147. I quickly hailed the second bus and climbed aboard. From the safely of my seat, I had a front row view of "Saigon Under Water."

Apparently it is quite common for the streets to flood when it rains. A friend of mine who lives in the An Phu neighborhood of District 2 is flooded at the slightest trickle of rain, but we didn't seem to have similar drainage issues in District 5, at least until today. From my bus stop, at least three quarters of the trip to school was through rivers of flooded streets. The rain seemed to have dissuaded a few of the fainter of heart, but for those who decided to brave the weather, it was a stressful ride. The normally carefree faces of the drivers, were creased with deep lines of worry. Hands gripped tighter to handlebars and the normally smooth (ish) flow of traffic was punctuated by the sudden stops and starts of drivers not wanting to risk toppling over in the water. Families morphed into camel-like masses as children huddled under the rear flap of their parent's poncho, their heads merely bright plastic humps of blue and green. Pedestrians hiked up their pants and waded through knee deep water to their destinations. I watched as one hapless driver unknowingly left his briefcase floating in an intersection as he speed through a green light, only to return as the shouts of those who saw it drew his attention.

I was able to make it to school just as the rain came to a stop, with plenty of time to spare. I shook out my umbrella and walked along the now visible streets wondering if this wasn't just the beginning...