Six Hundred Days

Greetings,

We used to live in Seattle, where David and I bike-commuted every day - before we had children - from Ballard to Downtown Seattle so that he could take the Bainbridge Ferry and I could take the Vashon Ferry to the schools we were working in at the time. Prior to that, I had been completing my Masters in Teaching at Seattle University (SU), to which I had also biked daily - including the year during which it rained 100 days in a row. I always arrived at SU soaked to the bone, but I was able to shower and warm up in the locker room before heading to class. Putting on my wet clothes to bike home was extremely unpleasant, but I inevitably warmed up quickly enough, making it safely, though water-logged once again, home to a hot shower. For a bit, we didn't even own a car.

Once we had children, we replaced our old Subaru and bought a much newer Outback. Loved the car but found that, as a mom, I was driving much more. Still, David continued biking and I bike commuted as was practical.

Move ahead several years. We are now in Saudi Arabia, living on the edge of the desert next to the Red Sea. Once again we do not own a car, and all four of us bike to school every day. We bike to the store, to friends' houses, to the cinema, to yoga and badminton, to the golf course, everywhere. Granted, our university compound is not that big. Honestly, I bike maybe 1.5 miles one-way to school each day and, unless we go to the golf course, which might be two miles from our house, that's generally our longest ride at any one time. Plus it never rains, so I always arrive warm and damp (or sweaty) from the heat.

Yesterday there were big rumors of torrential rains expected in Jeddah, which is just 70 km to the south of here. Everyone was really excited. The first year here we had huge rain, and everything flooded: the streets, many houses, the post office, the schools. School was canceled because of the rain and floods, but many people showed up anyway to help clean up. The entire community was untested for severe rains and faced the floods with perseverance and enthusiasm - except for the people whose houses actually caved in from rain. The roof of the then-secondary school didn't drain because the drainage pipes were all filled with rubble, so our assistant principal went to the roof to siphon the water off; students arrived to mop up and clean up; teachers moved books from dripping water in the library and rivulets in their classrooms; kids played and played in the flooded streets. The second year it rained again. Streets flooded and the buildings suffered some, but not as badly as the first year. Still, it was rather exciting. We were at some friends' house when the rain got heavy and started running down their stairs from the large front picture window on the stair landing. We immediately headed home by bike, of course. Eventually, I realized how foolish we were to try to 'ride' home in thigh-deep, so we walked our bikes on the slightly higher sidewalks, also mostly underwater. Again the community came together to enjoy the change and the thrill, to stand in awe at buses stuck in the flooded intersections, and to clean up. Last year it only briefly rained once for a few minutes, not even enough to have water running down the gutters.

When the rumors of massive thunder and rain showers came to naught last night and this morning, I must confess that I was deeply disappointed. Not, I hope, because I wanted more damage and destruction, but because the rain, particularly when it's a lot (and even more when school gets canceled for a day), changes the monotony of sameness. It's exciting and refreshing, powerful and exhilarating, reminding us that Mother Nature is all-powerful in the end. David tells me that we are going on or even beyond six hundred days without rain here, other than a few drops which quickly dissipated. I am not hoping for massive floods in Jeddah or on our campus nor do I wish for so much rain that destruction ensues, but I would be thrilled with a real solid rain that cleans the air, washes away the sand and dust, and cleanses our souls. Perhaps it's also time to test the rain-worthiness of our new school building, still untested!

Thanks for reading, Jennifer