I have to admit; I am loving the downpour in the city. Especially in the early morning hours, where I am forced to wake up, thanks to my aging dog, who needs to eat at 0400 – otherwise all hell will break loose with him screaming – it feels like to a sleeping human. But I don’t mind really. I love the early hours in the day, where there isn’t a sound outside my window except for the gentle rustling of the leaves and the lulling sounds of the ocean. The house is even quieter, except for a few seconds, when the thermostat kicks in. As usual, I feed my dog, and switch on the coffee machine and then crawl back into bed, and I lay there for a bit, obeying the quiet, until my mind wanders off to – this particular morning remembering a decade ago in Austria. Where my hubs and I, with luggage in tow, in the very late hours of the night, walked in the pouring rain, from the train station …