The Dutch have a different relationship to the rain than most people I've met. They don't just coexist peaceably with it like the people in Oregon and Washington do; they get in the rain's face, and allow it to get in theirs.
I'm not Dutch yet. I have an umbrella. Duh. It's a moderate rain, coming down hard enough so that if I didn't have it, I'd be soaking wet within a few blocks. But easily seven out of ten of the people I pass on my walk don't have umbrellas. Many of them aren't even wearing any kind of rain gear. They're just in the mood for a walk, that's all. The fact that it's raining has no bearing on that mood. Wussy umbrella or not, I'm enjoying the walk. Part of it, I realize, is the light. The Netherlands in October is kinda grey. Many of the days are overcast, producing a predominantly grey ambient light. I live with a painter, who has taught me to recognize the color of the light I'm using to see with, and how the color of that ambient light influences my perception of other colors. The grey light of Fall and Winter changes the way things look. That change may explain a lot about Dutch painters, and why so many of their paintings look as if the painter could use a hit of Xanax. :-) But when it rains things get all glisteny, and the grey light transforms into silver light. Remember on those boat rides we all used to live for how Maharishi would point out at the full moon reflecting on the lake, and say that this silver light had the qualities of soma, and we'd all go "Oooooooooo?" That kinda silver light. Everything looks different when using that light to see with. It's a nicer ambient light, and it transforms everything and makes it even more glisteny. I'm just stopping in this cafe to have a coffee and write this down before I forget it. Then I'll walk home. On the way back, I may not even use my umbrella. One more baby step in the direction of becoming Dutch.
