The forecast said it’d only rain for a moment in the morning. After breakfast, I grabbed my umbrella, put on Pink Sweat$’s ‘At My Worst’, and strolled slowly to a nearby coffee shop. 🎶 The music perfectly matched the empty, rain-kissed streets. There weren’t many people around yet, probably because it was both rainy and early.
In San Francisco, rain only comes during the winter. Although they say it’s the rainy season, it hardly ever shows up. The day I arrived at San Francisco International Airport with my big duffel bag, it was raining. On my Uber ride downtown, the driver — who had lived in San Fran for over ten years — mentioned it was almost his first time seeing rain. Yet, throughout my year there, it rained quite a bit. Ever since, San Francisco in my memory is a melancholy city where rain and fog dance together in winter.
Whenever it rained, I’d use an umbrella, but the locals just threw on a waterproof jacket and went about their day. Inside cafes, they’d shake off the rain and sit down, seemingly unbothered by wet clothes or shoes. I was the only one worried about their damp shoes. But soon, I also got used to it. Even when it rained, I’d walk confidently with a waterproof bag and a navy windbreaker. Once indoors, things dried faster than expected, and I cared less about my damp feet. Not that I liked it, though. But upon returning to Seoul, I naturally went back to using an umbrella. Why I picked it up again, I’m not sure, but back home, I started checking the weather and carrying an umbrella again.
Today, the rain was so light that you might miss it without squinting, but I still opened my umbrella. By the time I took out my coffee, the rain had become heavier. Still just a drizzle, though… Walking down the street, I saw someone approaching with their hood up. With a look that said, ‘As long as my hair doesn’t get wet,’ they reminded me of those rainy San Francisco days when I didn’t mind wet shoes.
‘Back then, loneliness made getting wet in the rain the least of my concerns.’
That could be why. I lived alone. Although I had some friends, they were a two-hour train ride away. In the U.S., that was considered nearby. Most people in San Francisco seemed to live alone. At least around Japantown, where I was, it was all studio apartments and lone walkers. Even the homeless were by themselves. Rain, fog, wind — nothing stopped them from walking, keeping loneliness as company. Perhaps that’s how I seemed too…
Now, I faithfully use an umbrella here — maybe because everyone else does, or perhaps because I’m less lonely and more bothered by the rain. Life, after all, is a series of lonely moments from birth to returning home, but living alone in a place with no one to chat with in your native language feels like being trapped in a cave, surviving on nothing but garlic.
It’s been raining for three straight weeks. I don’t mind the rain, but I wish it would stop so I could enjoy the cherry blossoms a little longer. 🌸
Leave a Reply