Rain

Monday morning & alarm clock & rain = disaster. You know what I’m talking about, right? This blue feeling of February Mondays, bluer than usual when accompanied by heavy pouring rain, is not the most promising start for any week. My mind refuses to wake up, then the snooze button drama starts; and finally, the random thoughts that pass through my head manage to form a full sentence of Monday denial that only gets louder and louder, before I actually have to get out of bed.

Athenian rainy Monday mornings are the worst: they are always followed by traffic and the city feels dirtier than during a middle August heat wave… The same day on an island feels different, though; the natural environment totally shifts the experience of a dark, wet, winter day, despite its –not so encouraging– beginning.

First of all, there is no traffic. You can drive to work in minutes and in many cases, wearing the same tracksuits you wore in bed; island dress codes can be really, really casual. Then, it’s the people you meet: they live more connected with the land that they can recognize the type of rain the soil needs each month. You will rarely hear them nagging about the rain; They see big clouds travelling from the neighboring islands and they can calculate when the wind will bring a shower to their own. The best thing about those drizzling days, are the amazing earthy scents the emerge from the ground, before, during and after the rain. It’s when you can actually smell the island.

When the rain stops, leaving the Cycladic sugar-cubed houses sparkling, the atmosphere is clear enough to see the colors and shapes of all the nearby islands. You can go to the countryside and pick wild greens to boil; Witness a double rainbow; At night, you stand in awe to gaze the uncountable stars that shine so bright, as they are not hidden by excessive summer lights.

photos by christos drazos

words by maria alipranti