I suspect that I've suffered from a bit of weather-related depression through the years and when you're growing up in Baguio, where the phrase "when it rains, it pours" must have been invented, it's cruel. Especially when one detests umbrellas. I recall that a whole month went by in college without the sun showing itself. Because we live near a busy road intersection in La Trinidad, I could still see people going about their usual business in galoshes and raincoats -- trading or selling vegetables, kids off to school, parents off to their livelihood -- right after a sudden downpour. Talk about adversity building character. I must have devoured hundreds of books on rainy days either at homes or till the library closed at 8 p.m. Later, my friends and I would insist on braving wind and rain to play duckpins even when the bowling alley floor was wet simply there should be some entertainment.

Half of my memories of Baguio would be sunny and cool, the rest would be wet shoes, wet tree boughs, running in wet streets from one building to another, and walking out to the post-rain splendor. The rains could be dull, but on days when the clouds just hang with the fog, and the rain only threatens to fall, the air feels clean and there is an absolute sense of freshness.

July 2000