A "pana" in the desert

Even after two weeks since my arrival in Tucson, everything seems so different to my country that it's difficult to believe I'm really here. I hadn't considered Arizona for my graduate studies; I pictured myself doing kata at Central Park and defending my personal space from hordes of people, not striding under thin acacia trees and beside low buildings, hunting for shade.

Summer heat, dry as in every dessert, hugs you, burns you, consumes you.

I, a person used to lush greenery, find myself in a place of modest, yet incredibly enduring life. 

And then, water comes.

A true storm. This is the summer monsoon, and in a couple of minutes, amongst the fury of a ruthless wind, water pours like a river cascading from the sky.

In a couple of hours, almost all the water is gone.

I find myself in love with these bare skies and naked land as well. It's funny. While I brag of the whole planet being my home,  I also find myself listening to music in Spanish at times, as if I wanted not to feel so far from it.