Each year during the months of December and January, Singapore succumbs to the effects of the Northeast monsoon. Once the rains begin they are loath to leave, the raindrops falling straight down from the sky with no wind to impede their passing. You would think that after a day or two the sky would clear to let the sun set about the task of drying the 
drenched landscape. But this is not that type of storm. It does not move across the land, rather, it simply appears above you and begins. One year it rained continuously for 21 consecutive days. I recall walking to the bus stop each morning carrying one of those golf umbrellas, the big ones with the wooden handles, thinking THIS is the day the sun appears. The umbrella became part of me like another limb, a constant reminder that the air was a watery compound separated from me by this thin nylon sheet, my underwater deep diving umbrella. Of course it eventually stopped raining as it must, and the sun came out hot and humid, not so much drying the land as steaming it like a dim sum platter where we were the dumplings. I miss Singapore and her tropical rain, the thick warm air that surrounds you, there on the equator of Planet Earth.
whoisfenton 