After all that waiting for monsoon rains, they have fully arrived along with streets turned into rivers, mud up to your ankles (and who knows what else might be mixed into that mud…just keep walking and don’t think about it!), and umbrellas an absolute must-have item in your bag.  But for me, it feels so much like home.  Well, maybe not SO much like home.  More like what I imagine the love-child of a wet Vancouver Spring and a humid Ontario summer might be like:  damp, grey, hot, sticky, and raining like the sky has been torn to shreds.  But it is still rain, and I missed the sound, smell, and feeling of it all.  Everything feels cleaner, greener and fresher…except of course for all that mud…now that’s just dirty!  This week’s gratitude goes entirely to the earth-quenching goodness of rain.

• Jelly shoes. I never before contemplated just how important footwear would be during the monsoon.  I knew I would need to get something better than the Birkenstocks, as leather doesn’t really play well with mud and rain.  But I had been struggling to find something that would be supportive and durable enough to wear all day every day for the next few months – flips flops spray mud up the back of my kurta and long scarf and that is just not very chic.  The answer was so simple…plastic shoes!  Like the jelly sandals of my childhood I suddenly see every woman wearing a bejeweled, flower topped, trendy little pair of jelly sandals.  And while I still have not been able to find a shop that sells them in my size, they are the answer to my quest…no need to buy Chanel or Givenchy jelly shoes for $400 when a pair of chinese imported ones cost only $1.60.
• The frog symphony. You know who else loves the rain.  The frogs.  I awoke last night to what I thought was the hum of a car or the rumble of the refridgerator only to discover that the frog symphony had begun!  Hundreds or thousands of the little critters must live in the empty lot behind our house.  And together, croaking to an invisible rythm, they drown out the barking dogs!  It is actually insane just how loud they are (one might even think we live in a swamp) but at 4am with the rain tumbling down and the froggy murmurs filling the silence, it is an absolutely beautiful music.
• Green. The rain has also changed the landscape of Kathmandu.  When we arrived in November, the dominate shade of everything was dust – a brown film of particles had simply covered everything.  Now, I noticed yesterday a lawn, that I am certain wasn’t there the day before.  It looked bright easter basket green, sparkling with drops of water, and growing by the second.  Grass?  Really?  But I swear, they have appeared overnight and all of a sudden are EVERYWHERE.  Everything green has found its season yet again – the bamboo shoots, the banana trees, the rhododendrons, the marigolds, the dhalias, the tropical plants that you have at home in your house that are the size of small trees here – everything is lushly, moistly, and exuberantly green.
• Coffee, drizzle, jazz, and a good book. Regardless of the temperature rain brings me into a cozy state of mind.  Having grown up with rain as a constant feature of life on the West Coast of Canada there is something so patient, peaceful, and soothing about a good rain.  Add to that rain a healthy dose of good jazz music, an excellent cappucino, and a good book and I think there is nothing that would feel more satisfying.  There is a fantastic, second floor, coffee shop in Kathmandu called the Java Cafe that serves up locally grown and roasted coffee.  The covered patio when it is raining is one of my favourite places in Kathmandu.  They play great jazz music too.  And as long as I bring a good book, I want for nothing but more time to sit and enjoy the moment.