It's Rainin'... Rain.

It rained last week.  I could tell it was going to rain because the sky had been dark and overcast all day, the wind was blowing, and the air was cold.  We were able to get inside before the rain really started, and we found that all of our friends were talking about it.  Not in the “so, about the weather…” kind of way, but in the great excitement kind of way—the kind you might expect from a student on a snow day when school has been cancelled and there’s enough snow to go sledding, or build a fort, or have a snow ball fight.  To my surprise, all of our friends rushed out to the mirpeset (balcony) to check out the rain—as if we had all never seen rain before.  I was informed that some of Andy’s classmates who had been in Israel since June actually hadn’t seen rain since they arrived, so it was kind of like seeing it for the first time for them.

And this was no ordinary rain, either.  This was the first rain of the season—a significant event for the country of Israel, since it is a desert that relies on a strong rainy season to help supply the country with water all year long.  This event even has a special name—יורה/yoreh, meaning the “first rain”.  Andy says that there are many different words for different types of rain in Israel because it is so significant to the country (like how Eskimos have many different words for “snow”)—a warm spring rain is called by a different name than a hot summer rain.  It is said that the first rain always occurs during the eight days of Sukkot (The Festival of Booths which signals the changing of seasons and is one of the three harvest festivals of Ancient Israel).  In addition, the first rain signals the start of the winter season in Israel.  I didn’t think winter could exist in Israel, where the day time temperatures reach well into the 90’s, but sure enough, the days have been chilly and the nights have been cold.  So cold, in fact, that I have been wearing my Northface jacket out at night.

I don’t usually like rain.  It’s cold, and wet, and everything you’re wearing gets cold and wet, and then you’re cold and wet for the rest of the day.  During the summer it interrupts camp’s activities, and during the year, it makes an already miserable commute even more miserable because more people take public transit when it rains, and everyone has dripping umbrellas.  Considering the significance of rain to the country in which I am currently living, however, I think I need to work on changing my perspective when it comes to rain.  Without it, I would not be able to drink cold water after a long walk, take a hot shower, or do my laundry (which I seem to be doing everyday—but that is for a different post).