Caulk the Wagon and Float

It rains a lot in Samoa. A LOT lot. Apparently here the year is divided into two seasons rather than the standard four I was used to back in the states: there's cyclone season and non-cyclone season. I have a feeling it rains a lot year round. But it rains especially a lot during cyclone season, which is from December-ish to May-ish. So needless to say, it's been wet. It's really fun for me after growing up in southern California where it rained maybe five days a year to being in week-long storms that sometimes make you feel like they're strong enough to knock your house down. I honestly haven't seen the sun in over a week because it's been pretty much constant. I'm enjoying it, although it does mean that laundry basically doesn't EVER dry which poses a problem especially with my mold issues... :) Anyways on Thursday I was planning on meeting a friend in town for dinner and all afternoon it was pouring like crazy and I was thinking maybe I should just take the bus instead of riding my bike and take a cab home, and then all of a sudden right before I was going to leave the rain finally stopped. So I figured great, I can ride my bike into town now! So I hop on and go. About 100 yards into the ride I start to realize that the prevalence of potholes in the road out to my house and the general being-up-on-a-hill-ness of my school means that when it rains a lot the road floods. I notice this both visually and sensorily as my entire back is rapidly soaked from water spraying up behind my bike. So I figure what the heck, I'm already wet, might as well just go for it, and keep pedaling. Now, in Samoa the road-river intersection is slightly different than back home. Here, rather than building a road that goes over the river (some might call this a "bridge"), they just build roads that the rivers flow over. Standardly this means that there might be a few inches of water gently running over the road as you drive/ride through it. In periods of heavy rainfall, however, the quantity of water and the speed at which it travels drastically increases. There is one such river/road crossing between my residence and Apia. As I'm riding my bike I approach this spot and notice that the water is above the bottom of the body of the car that's driving through it and start to think maybe my plan is a little off kilter. But I'm a trooper, I'll just go for it and see what happens. Pedal down the hill and off we go... About one and a half rotations into the water I notice that my bike is rapidly titling out from under me and I will soon be pedaling horizontally as I'm swept down the river. So I jump off my bike and quickly pick it up above the level of the water. Being about five feet into the river I logically decide to pursue my journey and continue pressing onward. So I begin to ford the river which is well above knee height carrying my bike and trying desperately to cling to my flip-flops with my toes so that they're not swept away downstream. As I get to around the middle I realize that yes, the strength of the water and its depth only increase as I'm continuing along, and perhaps my brilliant adventurer stance is not all the brilliant. But heck, I'm halfway through so it's six of one at this point, and man it would be a bummer to have gone through all this to be stuck back out at my house hungry. Plus, I've figured out how to angle my feet upstream so that my flip-flops are being jammed into my toes which is the only way they're staying on, and turning around with that plus the whole bike dragging in the water factor is pretty much guaranteed to spell disaster. So with dozens of Samoans who (understandably) hang out by the river when it's high to see what entertainment it will provide watching me and cheering me on, I ford the river in one piece, hop back on my bike like it was all in the game plan, and cruise on into town to soak in my river-water drenched clothing through dinner. It was a darn good fishburger. And I feel just a bit more like a warrior these days. Although I gotta admit next time I might just go the long way.