Christmas Day

 Christmas Day in Sanur dawned ... but not very much. The heavy clouds, smothering the natural light of morning, promised yet another day of steady rain, a promise that was kept, and oh so much more. 

I had been in the house for three days, except for the auto trip to Nusa Dua on Christmas Eve, and there were now things that I needed to do. I needed to buy some food for my empty refrigerator. Some more food for my empty cupboard. And I needed to get some coffee and a pastry. Well, okay, that last need was more of a want. But not much more. 

Moreover, I need (yes, need) to go to the immigration office tomorrow morning to get my official photo taken (for the 12th official year in a row), and I wanted to drive out there today in advance because, believe it or not, I have for 12 official years forgotten the official location of the place. In Indonesian, they call that pikun, which translates in English to senile. 

Lo and behold (in keeping to the spirit of the day), the darkness parted (ever so slightly), a sliver of light peeked through, and the flood waters ceased to flow in the land. Here was my window of opportunity. 

First stop: Coffee! 

Second stop: Well ... not so fast, for by the time I had taken two sips, the heavens mightily darkened anew and a new sogginess fell upon the earth. Winds picked up and then doubled up again, buffeting the trees, shaking the branches, ravaging the innocent fronds and leaves and sending them storming after cars and pedestrians and into the entries of restaurants and out the exits, and back into the trees again (much good it will do them now!).  

And so I waited. And waited. And ordered a second cup of coffee. And waited. 

At last, the torrent subsided somewhat and became more of a mere drenching downpour, such that I was able to retrieve my rain smock from my motorbike and head off to the grocery store. Emerging from my shopping, I found that the general downpour had continued, but not increased, so decided this was comparatively perfect weather to make the run out to Immigration (to see if it was still where it was last year, wherever that might be). 

I did not get very far. 

As I approached my own street, along the way, as it is, to the vague location of the immigration office, the wind picked up to what seemed hurricain strength and reopened the floodgates of the heavens, shoving a bike in front mine sideways, and its driver onto the street. 

Ok. Nope. So much for this idea. I changed lanes, made my turn, and hurried on home.

Drenched, with what little Christmas spirit I had to begin with now thoroughly wrung out of me, I spent the balance of the day feeling gloomy. However, come evening, I first received a call from my stepson in America, and then a group call from my girlfriend and her sister in Java, and Lo, the spirit was reborn. Hallelujah. My heart was warmed, after it dried out, and I'm good to go for another year.