"A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves." Marcel Proust

[Four seasons]

Sitting here in sunny Dar es Salaam I think of the one thing that I miss the most about home. Its not Gino Ginelli’s ice-cream or garments from The Space, tarred roads or camembert. Second to my friends and family, it’s the seasons.

I miss the cool fresh breeze of spring as the trees start to turn green and the smell of cherry blossoms fill the air. And the crunch of leaves under my boots as the trees turn to splashes of orange and yellow under the white Autumn sky. And the fog and misty rains of winter mornings, Saturdays spent under a down duvet with a book and a cup of Milo. One can taste and smell the changing; see the blue skies of summer and hear the crackling fire of June. And all of these changes mark the passage of time.

The seasons as I have experienced in Dar are: Hot and Hotter, Humid and More Humid, Dusty and Drenched. But what a treat it is to wake up every morning to a cobalt blue sky. Just yesterday I spent an incredible day at Ras Kutani where the waves crashed and the sun kissed our skin under a sky whipped white. The weather was perfect. And in fact, almost every day here is beautiful. And three nights ago as I sat eating delicious sushi at Osaka, the heavens opened and it poured, the air cooled and the fireflies played in the trees. For three hours, the world changed.

I realize that Dar has its own seasons, its own little transitions, tastes and smells. The rainy season has begun and with that comes the smell of wet soil, the puddles waist deep and umbrellas. It becomes a different world, it marks the passage of time and it holds new things. And with that, I’m off to buy a different pair of boots more suited to this season…gumboots!

Frangipani