Rain Rain Go Away…
It started as a sprinkle in the morning.
When Bea and I stepped out for playgroup at 10:00 a.m. we did not take an umbrella. We would not have needed one anyway. The sky was overcast, but little more than a hint of moisture misted our faces.
When I went to get Millie from the bus at 4:00 p.m. the streets were pretty wet, and the temperature had dropped. When my Chinese neighbor pulled up in her trendy BMW SUV and told me to jump in the passenger seat I quickly took her up on the offer. Our kiddos soon arrived on their respective school buses. Millie and I shared my big umbrella on the way home, and carefully avoided the smooth tiles in our complex that become especially slick when wet.
An hour later, when I went to collect Eliza from the late bus (every Tuesday she has art after school) the weather had changed even more dramatically! The wind had picked up, the streets where gushing with water, and everything had swirled together in the rain-clogged streets. I was wearing my rubber flip-flops and was risking a serious case of “China Toe!”
It seems, Qingdao’s civil engineers sought to use the slopes in our hilly city as a cost saving measure. To minimize the number of storm drains, they simply put them in the lowest spot, which creates a nasty mess in the overloaded drains. It also turns potholes into swamps, and streets into rivers. It turns the simple task of retrieving a child like venturing into a monsoon.
Eliza’s bus arrived promptly, for which I was glad, as this time there was no cozy BMW to wait in. I popped open her small umbrella and we ventured home, a task that rendered me totally soaked. The dubious water underfoot had wicked up my linen pants, so that the fabric was literally wringing wet by the time we got home. We made an unlikely pair: I sported the over-grown drowned rat look, while Eliza channeled the cute girl on the Morton salt shaker, with her proper striped uniform skirt and her small umbrella perched jauntily on her shoulder.
When it rains it pours…
When Bea and I stepped out for playgroup at 10:00 a.m. we did not take an umbrella. We would not have needed one anyway. The sky was overcast, but little more than a hint of moisture misted our faces.
When I went to get Millie from the bus at 4:00 p.m. the streets were pretty wet, and the temperature had dropped. When my Chinese neighbor pulled up in her trendy BMW SUV and told me to jump in the passenger seat I quickly took her up on the offer. Our kiddos soon arrived on their respective school buses. Millie and I shared my big umbrella on the way home, and carefully avoided the smooth tiles in our complex that become especially slick when wet.
An hour later, when I went to collect Eliza from the late bus (every Tuesday she has art after school) the weather had changed even more dramatically! The wind had picked up, the streets where gushing with water, and everything had swirled together in the rain-clogged streets. I was wearing my rubber flip-flops and was risking a serious case of “China Toe!”
It seems, Qingdao’s civil engineers sought to use the slopes in our hilly city as a cost saving measure. To minimize the number of storm drains, they simply put them in the lowest spot, which creates a nasty mess in the overloaded drains. It also turns potholes into swamps, and streets into rivers. It turns the simple task of retrieving a child like venturing into a monsoon.
Eliza’s bus arrived promptly, for which I was glad, as this time there was no cozy BMW to wait in. I popped open her small umbrella and we ventured home, a task that rendered me totally soaked. The dubious water underfoot had wicked up my linen pants, so that the fabric was literally wringing wet by the time we got home. We made an unlikely pair: I sported the over-grown drowned rat look, while Eliza channeled the cute girl on the Morton salt shaker, with her proper striped uniform skirt and her small umbrella perched jauntily on her shoulder.
When it rains it pours…
I am usually quite up for a good rain storm. I love the thunderous booms and bright flashes of light. I love when we get a good drenching rain in Qingdao, as we, in reality, get them infrequently. The grass greens up. The streets appear cleaner. The dirty water finally finds its way down the storm drains.
I am not, however, up for thunderstorms when my husband is scheduled to fly home after two days away on business.
When the phone rang at 9:30 p.m., long after the girls had tucked in for the night, I was pleased to think Sean had touched down at the airport and that he’d be home within the hour. What he called to say instead was, that his plane had indeed touched down, but he was in Jinan, not Qingdao. The rain was too heavy and Qingdao International could not approve their landing. To make matters worse, his phone’s battery was low. He would call when he could.
He finally arrived at the Qingdao airport after mid-night, and arrived home after 1:00 a.m. It had taken him 12 hours to get back home. In one day he had traveled by taxi from Yangzhou (and while in the taxi on a ferry) to Zhenjiang. He took the train from Zhenjiang to the Shanghai train station, from where he grabbed yet another taxi to the Hong Qiao airport in Shanghai. He flew out of Shanghai, had an unscheduled landing in Jinan, and eventually arrived back in the Sailing city.
We’re glad to put away the umbrellas and Sean’s overnight bag for a few weeks at least.
And…. That is our story of yesterday!
I am not, however, up for thunderstorms when my husband is scheduled to fly home after two days away on business.
When the phone rang at 9:30 p.m., long after the girls had tucked in for the night, I was pleased to think Sean had touched down at the airport and that he’d be home within the hour. What he called to say instead was, that his plane had indeed touched down, but he was in Jinan, not Qingdao. The rain was too heavy and Qingdao International could not approve their landing. To make matters worse, his phone’s battery was low. He would call when he could.
He finally arrived at the Qingdao airport after mid-night, and arrived home after 1:00 a.m. It had taken him 12 hours to get back home. In one day he had traveled by taxi from Yangzhou (and while in the taxi on a ferry) to Zhenjiang. He took the train from Zhenjiang to the Shanghai train station, from where he grabbed yet another taxi to the Hong Qiao airport in Shanghai. He flew out of Shanghai, had an unscheduled landing in Jinan, and eventually arrived back in the Sailing city.
We’re glad to put away the umbrellas and Sean’s overnight bag for a few weeks at least.
And…. That is our story of yesterday!
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