Winter Thunder Stormy-ness

It's the middle of the night, and I left the comfort of my husband's spooning arms because I can't sleep.  It's not loud neighbors or howler monkeys calling out into the wild keeping me up, it's an absolutely tremendous thunderstorm.  This storm is more than a fierce, competitive bowling game, it's mother nature breaking every dish in the house.

It's "winter" here which I think it's unfair to call it, since for me, winter conjours up visions of snow covered pine trees and seeing your breath in the cold, bone-chilling air.  In Central America, "winter" comes in June, July, and August and means hot, sunny days balanced with the absolutely most powerful Thunderstorms you can imagine.  Daily.  Huge dark, looming storm clouds fill the horizon of a perfectly blue sky, and an absolute deluge of water covers paradise.  Heed my warning if you ever consider a summer vacation to Mexico or Central America in the summertime.  These storms chew up smiling, fun-craving, umbrella-carrying, gringos for breakfast.


Sleeping peacefully, I'm awakened to constant flashes of bright light and loud, room-shaking crashing thunder that makes me feel like our delightful, cheapie-beach side room has been picked up and moved into the bone-shaking rauchous of a dance club.  Usually these rain storms are calming, and a wonderful white noise to wash out our fellow travelers in the middle of the night and the loud beach-side party blaring salsa music as the middle-aged Italian owner bangs on his bongo drums.  

Tonight, though, the rain is anything but calming.  The rush of the storm clouds over the ocean transforms my peaceful slumber from bliss to that scene from a Tom and Jerry cartoon where Tom bangs a huge gong in Jerry's ear and his entire bod pops up out of bed to Tom's delight.

If loud noises were an Olympic sport, I'd just have awarded the Gold to Costa Rica.  And I'll take the loud noises of Costa Rica's "winters" over real cold winters any day.