Vietnam Rain: Experiencing Tropical Storms in Hoi An

It comes with no warning. Hammering roofs, shaking tropical leaves and flooding roads, there is nothing quite like the rain in Vietnam.

Having grown up in Cornwall, I am familiar with the rain, everything from the light ‘mizzle’ (mist and drizzle) right up to the torrential. But halfway around the world, sometimes the elements can seem somewhat alien.

It is curious how the sea remains the same wherever you go; a coast is a coast is a coast, differing mainly in its beauty and how calm the water is. I feel much the same seeing the shore here in Hoi An as I did seeing it Australia, Morocco, France and Oman.

But the rain, the rain, is not the same.

Lately it has been striking like a thief in the night, waking up households far beyond the witching hour, a tropical alarm clock in the dead of night; an elemental reminder of how far from home one is, far from creature comforts, far from childhood safety. At other times it will suddenly turn a day on its head, a tap turned on by a vengeful god or playful divine being, sending pedestrians sprinting for shelter and unexpectedly bringing business to cafes and restaurants that have been deserted for days or weeks on end.

Trusting the technology that has grown with us side-by-side for the last half of our lives is no guarantee: the weather App is frequently wrong, or perhaps just naturally optimistic. Deciding to walk the ten-to-fifteen minutes into town when the sky is grey and you can feel the odd spit on the skin is to gamble recklessly — into the unknown you will strike out, either reaching the desired destination unscathed or a victim of such dense down-pouring as to breathe new life into the term ‘drenched’.

And just when you think it has reached its peak, somehow, somehow, it will find another gear, another level and then you think — you think: surely that’s it!

…And perhaps it is.

Or perhaps it will rain harder.

And harder.

Tonight, or tomorrow.