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You are here: Home Life in Blogs & photos Siesta Time

21/07/2006Siesta Time

"It's so hot I have fantasies about shoving past the camera-toting tourists and sticking my head into the path of Mannekin Pis' famous stream."

It's so hot I have fantasies about shoving past the camera-toting tourists and sticking my head into the path of Mannekin Pis' famous stream.

 

Yes, I finally understand why I saw adults and children in Germany strip down into their underwear in public to cool off with whatever water was handy. It's tempting. So tempting. When your face is shiny and flushed, your feet hot and sweaty, your shirt stuck to your back and your wedding ring digging into your swollen hands, it's not hard to envision abandoning modesty and decorum and just cooling off.

My, how I have changed. I used to joke I was a reptile in my last life and that's why I loved warm weather. I used to think the heat didn't bother me, but DUH, as an adult, I never lived in a house without air conditioning and if you've always enjoyed an icy blast of brisk air hitting you in the face when you open your front door, you have no clue about what it's like to live in the heat. I admit it.

 

This is my second summer in Belgium and until this past week, I hadn't ever been seriously uncomfortable with the heat. During the summer, our three story house stays quite cool, all things considered. The windows in the attic roof line let heat escape and the plaster and brick walls are great insulators. The windows are strategically placed for cross ventilation and normally the house cools off at night. The key word here is "normally".

All the sunshine and spotless blue skies have been picturesque, but the absence of Belgium's trademark gray skies and showers has meant the heat has been building in the brick and stone for quite some time. The last few nights, the temperatures haven't dropped, the curtains haven't lifted with a breeze and when I crawl onto (not INTO) the bed at night I feel a bit like a burger on a giant griddle: flat, motionless and flipping over at regular intervals, imagining I'm sizzling in my own fat. (If only it would melt away in the night, all the sweat would be worth it!) Like an electric nanny, the fan hums and rocks the heavy air around me and after much splaying and sighing, I drift off to sleep.

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