Indians seem to be obsessed with rain.
Hubby has told me stories of how he would go outside and dance in the first rain of monsoon season. I just figured it was so oppressively hot and humid leading up to it, that the rain would bring relief and everyone would be happy...but then return to a normal state of avoiding getting wet at all costs.
Wrong.
In my two months here, I've become used to having to walk or work outside while it's raining, and not just making a mad dash from the house to the car and back again. It's now ok when my flip flops get all wet and dirty and make my feet slide around. I still don't like it, but it's ok. Life must carry on even though it rains like crazy. I guess when there's an entire season of rain, you can't really blow off going grocery shopping until the weather improves.
But nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed today.
This weekend the in-laws and I went with several of Papa's tennis friends and their families to Aamby Valley. This place was described to me both as "a rich people's retreat" and "a hill-station version of Beverly Hills." So obviously, I was super excited to be going. (There really should be a sarcasm font.)
I have many stories about how crazy rich you have to be to go to this place (several Bollywood stars apparently have places in Aamby Valley) but I'll save that for another time. Long story short, I do not get on well with the super rich here.
We arrived on Saturday late afternoon, and spent the evening just exploring all the place has to offer. Which is a lot. It rained off and on but not hard, and for the most part if it got too hard we all took cover.
But Sunday. Sunday was a different story. We set out for a "water safari," which I was under the impression was just a ride around the lake on a pontoon boat. Oh, no. It was actually called Monsoon Safari, and is an activity only offered during the rainy months. You do take a ride on a pontoon boat, but only to get to the other side of the lake. Then it's all hiking along a river, crossing swinging bridges, sliding down the river, climbing up waterfalls and scaling rock walls like military bootcamp.
You might be thinking that this sounds like something I would enjoy doing. And you'd be right. If it was a nice sunny day and the temperatures were high so playing in the water felt good. But this was not a warm sunny day. In fact it was a cold day, and the rain poured down so hard that literally I was wet through to the bone after 5 seconds.
This was was not the type of rain where you can carry on strolling down the street. Or so I thought. Apparently to Indians, this is the type of rain where you just stand out in it talking even though there's a shelter not five feet away. This is the type of rain where you walk at a leisurely pace. This is the type of rain where you play in waterfalls. Everyone was soaked through and through, yet they could not have been happier.
They say it's because for so much of the year India is so hot, everyone really enjoys the cool rains. Ummm....I grew up in the south. It gets hot as hell there. Never once have I ever wished for a cold rain. Never. Ever. And I certainly wouldn't go play in it if it came.
I don't know what I believe about Heaven and Hell; whether they exist or what they're like. But if Hell is different depending on what would make each person the most miserable, today I glimpsed Hell. It's enough to make me want to go to church.
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