September 17, 2016
Some people say that life teaches you what you need to learn. On a three-month sojourn, you ought to be able to come away with some new insights. Here is one of mine: Don’t run from the rain.
Martin and I ran away from Norway after a howling rainstorm and a bleak, wet weather projection washed out our ambition to travel to remote places to see vast rockscapes. We migrated like wet birds to France, where the internet almost-promised mild, bright, 70-degree weather. We returned to Annecy, a place I first feasted my eyes on decades ago and never forgot. Two years ago, Martin and I came for a longer stay. In a mere two and a half days, we fallen in love with it. Nevertheless, we rushed off to other destinations. Now, we are back again, for a twelve-day stay.
Of course, the day after our arrival, it rained. By this time, trained by the Nordics, we simply put on rain gear, grabbed umbrellas, and out we went. It turned out to be absolutely special and lovely, not inspite of the rain, but because of the rain.
The pictures below will tell the story. It is a poem of bridges bedecked with glistening flowers, swans gliding and ducks bobbing in delight among the drips, drops of rain making ringed patterns on the river, a lake glowing in the mist.