Did you ever sit at the window as a kid and watch the rain? Maybe you still do. 

It’s often thought to be quite morbid if you enjoy the rain; it’s cold, uncomfortable on your clothed skin and creates a dreary sky. This said, I couldn’t be happier than sitting in my small garden nook, with the shelter of the overhanging roof above me (just because I love the sight and smell does not mean I’m inviting the common cold to attack my body, I’m an adult don’t cha know!) The noise, the smell, the freshness of the rain is all too enticing. The smell of rain is a real thing, one I am happy to point out to anyone that laughs when I announce ‘I love a proper smelly rain’. It is called ‘Petrichor’ and it is the earthy scent when rain hits dry ground.

Just what is its draw? As like anything else that surrounds us, it’s old news; the sun shines, the wind howls, the rain comes and goes. But watching the rain has always felt very soothing to me. Changing the sight, smell and colour of the scenes we see everyday. 

One of the most precious memories of my first trip abroad, that being my first abroad without my parents, was splashing in the gigantic puddles around Rockefeller centre in Manhattan with my oldest school friend. I’ve visited this memory in a previous blog.

There have been other times since then, when I’ve found myself in the rain, walking, laughing, standing still with arms raised to the sky. Australia’s humid banana plantations. The Dominican Republic’s jungle paths. A small island in the Maldives caught in the tail of a passing typhoon (a wonderful honeymoon for sure!) And each time it’s been like the water has washed away this idea of glamour that a passport gives you, the sheath of perfection you wrapped the holiday up in, all of it washed away into puddles and becoming diluted until it fades away.

Travelling isn’t something to be glamorised into a big glittery, sequinned mess, it’s something stripped back and raw. New York isn’t meant to be pretty, it’s a working city, it is built on over 400 years of commerce and trade, the first settlers in the early 1600’s didn’t plan to create tourism, they saw money in the beaver skin trade and the potential of the harbour. They saw life, growth and the chance to survive. Buildings grew on the island, as the trees once did, not for the purpose to look down on the city but to house its commerce. The glitter arrived much much later. 

What we experience when the rain falls, is the glitter washing away. The money in your pocket becomes soggy, the expensive clothes on your back no longer protect and the make up runs off the tip of your nose. You are without money, without protection and without your mask. You are as vulnerable as the day you enter this world. You are new. Naked. Without your glitter. For a moment you are aware you are alive, you are awake to the sights around you and a whole wide World is Born.

Travelling to me is much like the rain, no pretence is needed among the people, landscapes and avenues you don’t know. You are new, naked and without your glitter.