Tired Soup for the Chicken Soul

I am a rain person –by that I mean that I love that kind of weather. Raining sends a certain mix of melancholy and euphoria, which only rain could trigger.

It has been raining all throughout this particular afternoon. It’s cold, damp, and a little dark (some would describe this as a gloomy afternoon). Then, while studying for tomorrow’s class, I had to stop because an overwhelming number of memories flooded me which hindered me from concentrating to what I was doing. So I stopped and just let the memories flow through me… because this particular rain reminded me of so many things.

It reminded me of my childhood and the first rain of Mays. I would watch the rain at our porch and I would extend my hands to catch some raindrops. My grandfather would insist that I should rub rainwater on my tummy, otherwise I would get sick. I would blindly oblige fearing that my mother would get mad if I get sick. There was something special about the first rain of May that you just had to rub the rainwater you catch to your tummy. There was a certain magic in it, a magic that still lingers even now that I’m grown up.

It reminded me of my Junior Officer Cadet Corps (JOCC) training days where our upper classmen would leave us out in the rain drenched and soaking wet. But we, the trainees, would love those moments – because rains meant we are not fried by the scorching heat of the sun. The rain was our savior. And we would savor every moment of it – pretending not to enjoy it, but loving every minute of it.

It reminded me of lazy rainy afternoons back in Los Banos, where my housemates and I would just stay at our apartment, play some computer games, eat pancit canton or instant noodles and just talk about silly things. The door of our apartment would be open so that the cold breeze would enter and we would see the rain touch the green grass in front of our building. When the rain subsides, I would go to the roof top and watch the fog hover over at Mt. Makiling and see how lusciously green the vegetations there are at the moment and when I turn to gaze to the other side, I’ll see the lower area of Los Banos (including Olivarez Plaza <laughs>) covered in fog, as well as the Laguna de Bay. Majestic scenery. Priceless.

It also reminded me of that night when one of my housemates asked me a favor to set-up his surprise candle-lit dinner for his girlfriend at our rooftop. Everything was set – the table (which I had to bring from the second floor to the 4^th floor), the lighted candles, the CD player with romantic music playing, the pizza and the pasta (no, I did not cook them, I had them delivered). So I went back into our apartment and I was waiting for them to arrive when I suddenly heard rainfall. So I ran for the rooftop to salvage everything I could. No candle-lit dinner at the rooftop for them. But the night still ended well with me eating the pizza with them inside our apartment (minus the romantic music and the candle light of course!). Yes, three is a crowd.

Rain also reminded me of one particular rainy afternoon – a bitter sweet memory of me walking with someone under one umbrella. The umbrella wasn’t doing its job, but it was nevertheless alright.

It reminded me of the tricycle race (yeah, it was a race not a simple ride) back in Pagudpud where the locals who toured us in their tricycles raced through the highways of Pagudpud (where very few automobiles pass). It was both sunny and raining (you know what I mean), and I was seated at the back of the motorcycle (which by the way has no roof) and the speed of the trike made the raindrops hurt and sting my skin, but I did not mind. The adrenaline rush was getting into me – excited and scared at the same time with the thought that a speeding car might hit us any moment. It was also the moment when I said to myself I was ready to die (but upon coming back to Manila, I thought otherwise).

It reminded me of that stormy night at Mt. Pinatubo crater where I was in my tent feeling very cold (imagine: night-top of a mountain-raining cold <oh, and I was wearing shorts>) and my blanket was in my bag somewhere outside but I was too drunk to stand up so I just imagined I was in Sahara to feel a little warmer. I summoned all my strength to stand up only to realize that it was pitch black outside and I have no way of feeling my way through the darkness. So I just went back into the tent and thought of the arid deserts of the Sahara again.

It reminded me of a friend who believed that rain won’t make us sick and insisted we have a talk outside in a cold, raining night – just to prove the theory. The two hour talk was a trivial, useless, yet fun chitchat. And yeah, the theory was wrong. We both got sick the next day – the price I have to pay for experimenting with rain.

It reminded me that today, I am alone in my apartment.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 26th, 2008 at 4:35 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.