The Victory of Providence Over Planning
“It looks like the rain has let up a bit, should we make a run for it?” I asked, equivocating. “Its probably as good as any time,” Dad replied. We had been enduring monsoon rains for hours, holed up first at the Cafe del Mar and later at Abba. It was getting late and we still had to pack. So we made a dash for it and, as if cued by some rueful sadistic god, the rain intensified. Too late to change course, we soldiered into the torrent. Dad helped my pull my bike out of the muddy garbage heap. I was ankle deep in brown water and suddenly grateful that I was: a) wearing my sandals; and b) immunized against Hep A. ...