“How was the weather this week?”
“Gorgeous.”
“Did it rain?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe like five minutes at night?”
Feng is watching The Weather Network because it’s snowing again in Ottawa—apparently, it’s been a cold and snowy January. We’re talking about the weather because I really, really don’t want to hear about what Trump did again. I read the news, but I don’t digest it well.
Five minutes after saying two million “I love you” with Mark (we have to say it, then hang up, then type it on Skype chat, then add an emoji, then type it again… we have a whole routine every night), I heard some noise outside.
I went to the balcony.
Sure enough, it was raining.
The next day was my last day in Natal. I went for a long walk on the beach under a very dark sky. I came back to the apartment seconds before the first downpour of many.
“Oh, master, what else do you see on the horizon?” I joked when Feng called. “Anything you mention will become true, be careful with this new superpower!”
It rained all evening and then it rained all night but with breaks long enough for me to go shop.
The next morning was sunny enough. I took an Uber to the bus terminal and almost immediately fell asleep. It was only a three-hour ride to João Pessoa, may as well use my time wisely.
I had the weirdest dream. I was on a bus, and it was going so fast we were almost flying, and it was pouring rain.
I opened my eyes.
We were going pretty fast.
It was pouring.
Damn. I brought the rain to João Pessoa.
I took another Uber to my new Airbnb, a new building a few blocks from the beach. “The streets aren’t too flooded,” I noted, chatting with the friendly driver who was super enthusiastic about Brazil, João Pessoa, and life in general.
I push the door of the building, ready to go through the whole check-in routine—show ID, explain you’ve rented an apartment for the week, confirm apartment number, etc.
I showed my passport to the security desk.
The woman nodded and announced, “There’s no power in the building. Power outage.”
I sighed. Okay, never mind, it’s daytime, I don’t need to cook yet and…
“So no elevator.”
Ah, shit. That too. I double-check the apartment number—yep, 1301, “cobertura,” aka rooftop.
Fuck my life.
I waited in the lobby for a few minutes, reviewing options.
“How long have you been without power?”
“A couple of hours.”
“And based on your experience, how long will it last?”
“I reported the outage at 2:30 p.m…… so probably 7 p.m.”
Then I met another resident who told me only the building common area had no power but that the apartments were fine.
“Can you show me where the stairs are?”
“You will need your phone as a flashlight, it’s dark in there.”
And this is how I climbed 13 storeys up with my backpack. Welcome to João Pessoa.
I made myself a cup of coffee to recover and drank it while standing behind the window. Lovely view, from the 13th floor.
And just as the idiom “It’s raining cats and dogs” crossed my mind, a bunch of dogs started chasing a lone cat in the street below.
I started laughing and I went digging for my Havaianas and umbrella in my backpack.
Hey, there’s a reason why Brazil is suspiciously green—when it rains, it pours around here!
