One Person’s White is Another’s Black

Years ago while living in the south-western corner of the Arabian peninsula, now unnameable, the sun shone almost everyday…almost.

At times the clear blue sky would darken with sand blowing in from the vast deserts that ring the mountains and then for about 2 weeks a year irregular monsoons would blow through and flood the streets.

Rushing torrents of suspiciously dark water would replace what had been dusty streets and the walk to work would become a challenge.

Wet teachers ended up at work and could easily be divided into two camps. Grumpy expats, unhappy that their continuous sunshine had been interrupted and smiling and cheery locals, thrilled that their water table would refill, if just a little.

Today, years later and a continent away, we were sitting in a bar drinking a beer and eating tapas when a friend jumped up and said, “It’s snowing!”

3 Spaniards at the table smiling.

One foreigner, not.

It does depend on how you look at things.

Caceres covered in white.