It is a simple fact that one cannot avoid becoming wet when swimming. Thus it should not matter if one swims in sunshine or rain.
After one day of brilliant sunshine, the monsoon rolled over to our little beach. Gone was the golden sand and turquoise sea. Instead we had rain, and more rain; for a month to come should we choose to stay for so long. With the heavy, gray waves rolling in, lifting up sand and silt so the water was muddled, beach life was quite different. For instance, the seawater was warmed than the rain water, which made it more pleasant to be in the water than out of it on the beach.
What a lovely surprise to discover that monsoon rains are also the best times to beach-comb. Strange flotsam and jetsam floated towards us in the water. Styrofoam in a plastic bag (who puts styrofoam in a plastic bag??), toothbrushes, whole logs, flipflops, and a coconut, oval-shaped like Wilson the American football’s little brother.
When the rains ceded at night, the frogs came out. Hundreds of them. We sat, surrounded by their love recitals, in the beach bar. When the waiter brought out our martinis (nice and dirty), the wind picked up. Five minutes later, the rain squalls were spraying water even into the back of the bar, where we had escaped. The wind tousled our hair and the rain wet our faces as we continued to enjoy our martinis, now more aptly renamed Mai-Thai-phoons.
As I enjoyed my refill of olive brine and rainwater, I could not help but laugh at the bartenders’ dream job: one moment to protect all equipment, paper, and furniture textiles from the rain; and next one knew, to already run out to dress up the chairs and sun loungers for the 15 minutes the rain withheld its wetness. To be repeated, ad nauseam.
The frogs had it much easier. When it rains, swim in the rainwater. When it doesn’t rain, serenade to your nearest lovely mate.(Langkawi, Malaysia; September 2016)