Against the soundtrack of the eerie, unending wails of the fire trucks, the fire burned and burned. By Saturday morning it had devoured thousands of acres. And turned the normally dazzling day dejected and still, with a layer of smoke so thick it rendered the sun into a neon-pink disc, tiny against a violet sky.
By 5pm, it felt like doom was near. Everywhere we drove we spotted people with their cameras trying to capture the alien daylight. The heat was so intense off the sidewalks (we foolishly walked, if only for a bit) that it was hard to breathe.
Strange to think that in the country of my birth, halfway across the world, it is the opposite season. The monsoons are in full bloom and all is green and plentiful. Here it is the season of wildfire. Not so strange, though, on second thought... I knew I was traveling not just across the world but into a different world when I landed here a year ago.