Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that rainy season has officially started. It has rained at least once a day for about the past week and the Weatherchannel.com has a 60% of scattered T-Storms everyday for the rest of the 10-day forecast. I have to admit that a rainy season is much more bearable than a winter season. I do not miss cold weather, bitter wind, and snow or ice. At all. Not that rainy season doesn’t have its negatives, they just aren’t as unbearable to me as the downsides of winter.
Earlier this week I had my first real rainy-season incident. I was at dinner after work with a few friends when a massive storm blew in. One minute is a clear night and the next the rain was falling in a way I can only imagine it did before the Noah’s Ark flood. Lightning that lit the sky as if it were noon, rain that came down in sheets, and instantaneous flooding. We decided to see if it was a short storm and just order a beer to wait it out. As time went on, however, it became clear that we were not waiting out a storm anymore but just allowing the streets to flood.
We leave, walking outside to be drenched in rain and getting on our motorbikes to attempt a very wet ride home. I only know a few roads home as I have only had my bike for about a week at this time. I begin my ride home being pelted with rain, but enjoying it drive. The rain had that sea smell that only storms that come in off the ocean can have; that sweet and salty aroma that made me feel as if I was lying on the beach watching a storm roll in. With Ryan Adam’s Heartbreaker playing through one ear-bud of my I-pod I listened to Adams sing about rainy days and broken hearts and drove in what felt like the perfect weather to listen to that album. The intoxication that comes from the freedom of riding a bike combined with the choice of music and ocean-rain made me feel for a moment immortal. That feeling would soon change however.
As I got about a mile from my house I drove onto a street that all of a sudden swallowed my bike in water up to my thighs. I pulled the bike out, let it dry for awhile and hoped to God it would start up again. Luckily it did, and I was off to try and find a new way home. Two hours later I would end up in the same spot, having to push my bike home; but for two hours I drove all over Surabaya. I saw slums, I saw beautiful neighborhoods, and I saw floods. I saw men pushing motorbikes through water so high one could not even see the bike but just the hunched over figure of someone who must be pushing something. The rain quickly turned from sweet and salty in my mind to pounding and intimidating. I drove through areas where the water rushed enough that I was able to feel my bike being pushed in the direction of the flowing water. I saw landmarks that let me know where I was, but in front of all of those landmarks were floodwaters blocking my way home. I was terrified to turn my bike off in case it didn’t restart because I thought it probably in-took a fair amount of water so after an hour when I really had to pee, I had no choice but to pee down my leg as I was driving my bike in a part of town I had never seen before. It didn’t matter, other than the initial warmth it provided, it was just like peeing in the lake. I was so wet that it made no difference.
As I kept driving I became more and more frustrated. The walls of water became just that, walls. Literally stopping all attempts to get where I was going, it was like trying to cross rivers without bridges.
I finally found my way back to where I originally drove my bike into thigh high water and called a friend to see if he knew any dry back roads home. His answer was what I feared most: “I’m at your house right now, you have to push your bike home if you want to make it.” I closed off the clutch to keep water from getting in the bike and started pushing. The water went from thigh high to being above my waist. For over a kilometer it was waist high. I couldn’t get my knees out of the water while pushing my bike. At one point it dropped to about the middle of my shins, but that reprieve was short lived as after a few meters it swallowed my knees and waist again. For over a mile I pushed my bike.
I finally arrived home to see my friends and neighbors shirtless in the streets. I got my bike into the driveway, drained it of water, and opened the best cold beer I have ever drank in my entire life.
I survived being lost in a monsoon. I made it through something I could never have imagine doing. One more day in Indonesia, and one more lesson learned about the ability I have to do things I never though I could. Looking back, I enjoyed that experience because it gave me confidence that I actually do have the strength to push myself through hard times. There is a line from a Bright Eyes song that says “your eyes must do some raining if you’re ever gonna grow,” but maybe all it actually takes to grow is pissing yourself in a monsoon.
