If you think there is more to life than writing about the weather, then you are absolutely correct.
Nobody really wants to hear about the typical day in Southern California (70-75 degrees) or the Irish coast (grey clouds), and even less so about the rain. But then you probably haven't been to South America.
Where I come from, I am positive that there has been a rainy day at least once in its history for every calendar day. I could travel there at any time of the year, and there would still be a likelihood, however so slight, of rain.
In Ireland, quite a few people told me how Ireland would be the best country in the world if only they could put a roof over it. I think Pacenas would agree with that to some extent – except that they would want the roof to be retractable. It seems in La Paz the weather always comes in waves – sometimes even literally, as I will explain later.
The seasons: spring is from September to December, with some rains, but otherwise high temperatures that usually top out in the low 70's. Summer is the biggest paradox here in La Paz – this is when the rains come down with a vengeance, albeit with moderate temperatures. Fall is from March to June and is mostly dry, whereas the winter from June to September is, again, cold and dry.
How weird is it, then, that we are supposedly in the middle of summer and for the past eight weeks we have had nothing but rain? You would think this gets depressing after a while, but it never has. With the mountainous backdrop in La Paz, it could rain all year and it still wouldn't bother me.
It seems weird to say that the sunny temperatures in the low to mid 70's are rarely missed, if at all. There is something brutal about sunny 70 degree days here that almost make you pine for the days in the 90's and 100's in places like Morocco or Nepal. I have no idea whether that has anything at all to do with the altitude, but the sun here literally blazes, and you will get that sunburn on certain days, regardless of whether you use sunblock or not.
Here it is nice looking out the window, the logs in the fireplace burning, a cup of tea in hand, and listening to the consistent rhythm of the rain pecking away at the skylight. The kids are inside playing – every now and then one of them will have the genius idea of going outside (not unlike when it's dark), but other than that they are inside where you can watch them. That only means there's the darn cat still to worry about.
Looking out here in La Paz, there's the large white cross on the hill over Achumani about to get a complimentary wash as it looms over dozens more mini crosses that form the cemetery on the slope of the hill. There's nothing spooky about that, unless there's a mudslide, because then that 'final resting place' goes out the window. The rain here is also connected with several tragedies, as the mudslides and the occasional floods with their menacing brown waves last year here could attest.
Other than that, the rain is part of our routine like work, dinner, and toothpaste: convenient enough to watch, not dangerous enough to be a threat.
Nobody really wants to hear about the typical day in Southern California (70-75 degrees) or the Irish coast (grey clouds), and even less so about the rain. But then you probably haven't been to South America.
Where I come from, I am positive that there has been a rainy day at least once in its history for every calendar day. I could travel there at any time of the year, and there would still be a likelihood, however so slight, of rain.
In Ireland, quite a few people told me how Ireland would be the best country in the world if only they could put a roof over it. I think Pacenas would agree with that to some extent – except that they would want the roof to be retractable. It seems in La Paz the weather always comes in waves – sometimes even literally, as I will explain later.
The seasons: spring is from September to December, with some rains, but otherwise high temperatures that usually top out in the low 70's. Summer is the biggest paradox here in La Paz – this is when the rains come down with a vengeance, albeit with moderate temperatures. Fall is from March to June and is mostly dry, whereas the winter from June to September is, again, cold and dry.
How weird is it, then, that we are supposedly in the middle of summer and for the past eight weeks we have had nothing but rain? You would think this gets depressing after a while, but it never has. With the mountainous backdrop in La Paz, it could rain all year and it still wouldn't bother me.
It seems weird to say that the sunny temperatures in the low to mid 70's are rarely missed, if at all. There is something brutal about sunny 70 degree days here that almost make you pine for the days in the 90's and 100's in places like Morocco or Nepal. I have no idea whether that has anything at all to do with the altitude, but the sun here literally blazes, and you will get that sunburn on certain days, regardless of whether you use sunblock or not.
Here it is nice looking out the window, the logs in the fireplace burning, a cup of tea in hand, and listening to the consistent rhythm of the rain pecking away at the skylight. The kids are inside playing – every now and then one of them will have the genius idea of going outside (not unlike when it's dark), but other than that they are inside where you can watch them. That only means there's the darn cat still to worry about.
Looking out here in La Paz, there's the large white cross on the hill over Achumani about to get a complimentary wash as it looms over dozens more mini crosses that form the cemetery on the slope of the hill. There's nothing spooky about that, unless there's a mudslide, because then that 'final resting place' goes out the window. The rain here is also connected with several tragedies, as the mudslides and the occasional floods with their menacing brown waves last year here could attest.
Other than that, the rain is part of our routine like work, dinner, and toothpaste: convenient enough to watch, not dangerous enough to be a threat.
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