The green tinged rice fields of the rainy season have spouted forth and are now lush green carpets of summer. Farmers have armed their crops with their best ammunition: mannequin head scarecrows. They are all female, with varying shades of haircolor and hairstyles, and all with a full face of make-up. Being outside for weeks on end you can imagine they are a little worse for wear, but I think this gives them character. It is very eerie to see what appears to be a woman's head dangling from a rope in the middle of a field. It looks like something straight out of a horror film.
The frogs that serenaded have been replaced by cicadas-which are somehow not as soothing. They seem to be most active during the hottest times of the day, although they can be heard even at 7:00 AM and it stays quite hot until the sun sets and they are still active until nightfall. Their song is a rattling buzz. When they sing there is a slow ascension as the pitch gets louder and higher until it reaches it's peak at which point it seems the cicada might either shoot into the sky like a rocket or simply explode. The noise they produce individually isn't so loud, but collectivelly it is practically defening. They seem to "sing" in harmony as well. When one gets going they all chime in, go crazy for a few minutes, and then all will go silent. Again, slightly eerie.
Recently I have also seen an abundance of massive dragonflies. By far the largest dragon flies I have ever seen. I often see them flying about in large groups. The other days there must have been twenty or thirty in the courtyard at school. The third floor walkway provided the best veiwing point. The dragonflies were soaring high in the breeze and appeared to be windsurfing.
Sometimes I feel as though I've been transported back to a prehistoric time when massive insects and plants ruled the earth. I have encountered more bugs and larger bugs than I ever have before. Bugs that I don't see, I hear, some during the day and others at night. Vines grow fast and dense during this time of year, overtaking abandoned cars and boats like a spider catching a meal in it's web. I like to ride my scooter or bike on the country roads near my house. When I pass through a patch of the road that is particularly dense with foliage I can feel the air is considerably cooler. It has a dank quality and smells like the inside of an old stone castle.
Although the rains have gone I am still battling the effects of the hot, wet, humid, rainy season. My apartment, built of wood-some of which is untreated-and with tatami floors, does not seem like the ideal construction for a humid country with a rainy season. One unfortunate day I discovered that the shoes inside my shoe cupboard were all coated with a fuzzy layer of mold. It wasn't too surprising really; all the cupboards are made with untreated wood and have no means of ventilation. Even if I leave all windows and doors open the air still feels heavy and stagnant. Upon closer inspection of the wood I noticed the it appeared to be wet from having absorbed so much atmospheric moisture. My house was under attack-and this was a full out battle. I emptied everything from every cupboard: shoes, luggage, camping gear, etc. The downstairs floor was covered with a solid layer of stuff. Armed with anxiety and bleach I attacked. Like a bad case of bed bugs those little spores made me feel as though I might self destruct-or take a hammer to my moldy apartment-which would probably crumble and collapse upon the first blow. I have discovered mold on nearly every surface on the first floor of my apartment, but have since taken a more relaxed approach. I clean a little everyday and use fans to air out cupboards and places that lack proper ventilation. I'm getting used to having my junk lying about everywhere because I'm afraid they will mold if I return them to their condemned cupboard homes. Ironically, even though my apartment appears to be in total disarray, it has probably never been so clean. I just wonder why someone thought it was a good idea to build homes out of wood and straw (tatami) in a climate that is ideal for mold.
