Singing in the rain

On Monday this week, at 1057 a.m., I was lying on the beach at Cala Llenya, a small but beautiful bay in the northeast of Ibiza.

Above, the sky was black, and for around 7 minutes, we had rain.

By 1120 a.m., the sky was blue again, the sun hot, and the rain had dried up. We will unlikely see any more rain for the rest of our stay. I don't share this fact to gloat; I just wanted to give you some context for the rest of the blog.

I first visited this island in the 80s on a package holiday with my family in one of the resorts in the South. I have visited regularly in the years since and have gotten further north with each visit. A long time back, I ditched the package holidays, and now, we stay in old farmhouses and fincas in the middle of nowhere, with no sunloungers or all-you-can-eat buffets to be found.

This year, I returned to a place high in the hills, about as far North as you can get, far from the madding crowds and Engish tourists. In these parts, you find just the hardy locals.

Like the rest of Ibiza, it's usually stiflingly hot. But, unlike the main towns, the landscape here is much more barren and desert-like. But regardless of where you stay on the island, water is precious. The house we are staying in gets all its water brought in by lorry, and they encourage us to be mindful of how we use it. This is probably why every car on the island is thick with dust; they don't use this precious resource to make their vehicles shiny.

A few years back, we sat in a coffee shop in Sant Joan de Labritja, a sleepy little town near our home.

As we sipped our morning Latte, the sky grew darker. Then the heavens opened, and rain of biblical proportions followed. All three shop staff and those from a neighbouring store got very giddy. They stopped what they were doing, ran outside, joined each other, and literally sang and danced in the rain.

To them, this was special, and to their beloved island, any rain at all was like a gift from the Gods. And that day was the first time they had seen any for months that year.

The rain continued on and off for about three days. We carried on regardless and, during this rainy time, found ourselves in one of the more touristy towns surrounded by many fellow holidaymakers from the UK, most of whom complained about the rain and said it was ruining their holiday.

In the UK, we see our wet weather as inconvenient and moan about it. And I get it. I have done my fair share of whining about our damp conditions. But after that day in Sant Joan, I also realised how lucky we are. We have green, lush trees, soft green grass, flowers and plants, and abundant earth to grow fresh fruit and vegetables in our backyards. The Ibizans would give their left arm for such a chance. Since that day, I have complained about our weather less.

So, this blog is less about weather and more about gratitude and appreciation.

It can be easy to take what we have for granted, look at someone else's lot in life, and see it as somehow better. In reality, we always have a lot to be grateful for. If you want to experience more joy and contentment, stop thinking the grass is greener on someone else's side of the fence. In many cases, it isn't, and in places like Ibiza, there isn't grass, just brown scrub and sand, and that takes some cutting.

Finally, the next time you find yourself moaning about the weather, why not try singing and dancing in the rain? Those hippies in St Joan looked very happy, warbling and bopping in the wet stuff, although I suspect some weed may have contributed to their elevated mood.

Take care

GB