Mornings dawn cool and lovely, announced at regular intervals by the rooster behind our house. First thing in the morning is the time to run errands, line dry clothes, walk to town. Picture it: the road goes straight for almost 3 miles with houses and shops spaced neatly on its side, then suddenly the road turns and you are surrounded by mountains, green and jagged on top, which drop off steeply into a red-roofed pueblo. Take a good look; by 10 or 11 the mountains start to disappear behind fog and gray clouds. You see it raining in the mountains first, then by noon, just as the day is really getting hot, the gray has covered the blue sky and thickened. Around noon it begins to rain, sometimes a drizzle, sometimes in a thunderclap that turns the hilly streets of town into rivers. There is a reason all the shops and schools have awnings. The university we´re attending for Spanish classes has no entrance or exit doors, only open hallways of classrooms, buildings connected by awning-covered sidewalks. If it never gets cold, why close yourself off?
And with guaranteed rain everyday, what better thing is there to do than take a siesta, or brew a cup of Panamanian coffee and write?