It’s raining, it’s pouring…..

Okay. I moved to the tropics.  I knew it was going to rain.  But not like this.  I, like many expats here, thought rainy season would be similar to rain in south-east Asia.  An hour’s downpour at 4pm after a day of sunshine. But oh no. When it rains here, it rains for months.

La Fortuna is in the centre of the country and has its own unique weather patterns. Rainy season, or “green season” as it is euphemistically called, lasts from May-November.  That sounds like an eternity but in reality, September and October are supposed to be the wettest months.  Not in my experience.  September is the month of my birthday, of Children’s Day and Independence Day and I remember them for being sunny and hot. 

July, however, was a different matter. When I got back from a trip, it literally rained for a month.  Exercise was not possible. The hikes were mud baths and risk of lightning strike too high. Even popping to town was like playing the lottery. Cabin fever was diagnosed.

My friend, Sanna came to stay. We attempted to do a waterfall hike but even waterfalls can have too much water. Tour cancelled. We drove home through a deluge.  Visibility was practically zero. As we drove round the lake towards home, we found a tree blocking the road.  Thankfully we were only 100m from a hotel and grabbed the last available room.  What a stroke of luck!  Others spent the night in their cars, trapped between landslides.  We looked on it as an adventure and took the scenic route home the next day. Ten days later I drove back along that road and they were still clearing the multiple landslides from the road.

November also rained for a month. As did December. And so far, as has January.  We are a third of the way through dry season and it hasn’t stopped raining yet.

The landslides and road closures continue to influence activities. Exercise is still very much dependent on the view from the window. Lake Arenal which provides 12% of the country’s hydroelectricity is over capacity. In May it was so empty we had electricity rationing.  Oh, how things change!

And the mould!  Oh, it is everywhere! The washing machine is constantly going because all my clothes smell of mildew.  And as the washed clothes don’t dry so quickly, even I have on occasion resorted to the North American tendency for the tumble drier. Wooden items are similarly afflicted.  Cupboards and drawers, a table, a clock. And my long-sought wooden spoon?  Furry. Very furry.

To be fair, the country expects rain and is well set up for it.  Every road has a large drainage ditch at the side of it. It makes parking in town interesting and you need to be careful not to drive too close to the edge. But they are, on the whole, very effective.  Landslides are generally dealt with quickly, at least getting the roads passable before all the debris is fully cleared. Flooded businesses are back up and running within days.

Mother nature is not to be taken lightly though.  The rivers, of which there are many, have been in full flood.  Cars have been washed away.  Swimming holes have literally disappeared.

I come from the UK. A country in which the entire world seems to think it permanently rains. Yet the average annual rainfall in London is 56cm. Last year, my area of Costa Rica had 5.7m. That’s equivalent to a three-storey building. 

But the price we pay for living in the rainforest is of course the rain.  The verdant green is reward for our patience. And it’s worth the wait.