The only extreme weather conditions these houses are built for is extreme hot. When the hail started we were at first amused by the heavy tapping on the openable plastic roof slats. We ran out into the street and rejoiced, until golfball sized lumps of ice almost concussed someone. We cowered inside. The plastic roof slats groaned and creaked. All of a sudden, like the moment in the horror film when the house's defenses are breached, I saw a huge lump of ice drop straight through the roof and crack against the stone floor of the patio. This was the catalyst. Huge gaps started yawning. Several holes opened. Itay and I took an executive decision - OPEN THE SLATS!
We turned frantically on the long metal poles, and a thick rain of ice clouded vision. All furniture was shifted out of the patio, and we stood at the doorway, watching the huge lumps of ice cloud the floor. Out in the front, two car windscreens had been smashed. Everyone was crowded in doorways, laughing and looking on in amazement.
Afterwards the street was a chaos. The branches and buds from the trees carpeted the pavement. Water overflowed pipes into the road. And everywhere, windows were smashed - house windows, flat windows, car windscreens. One car had 4 huge holes punched in its back window. I interrogated old people. One man said it sometimes happens in San Luis. An old woman said Mendoza. Another old woman who had just slipped over told me she'd been in the city 50 years and never seen anything like it.
Itay was elated. 'I love extreme weather conditions.'
I was temerous. I had honestly thought it was the end of the world.
