Heat

We must figure out how to deal with the heat.

According to the internet, the high will only be 94 degrees today (10 degrees shy of the average temperature at this time of year). However, at 7 am it was already uncomfortably warm on our roof terrace. Between the hours of 10 am and 5 pm the sun outside is relentless. The difference between sun and shade is significant. We spent the day at Chichen-Itza yesterday cowering in shadows of chewing gum trees. At first I scoffed at the gaggles of tourists from the cruise ships with their matching umbrellas, but by the second hour came to envy their ingenuity. The kids woke up today with a firm declaration that they were not going out again. Ever. It’s too [damn] hot.

 Our house has air conditioning in each room, but we can’t find the remote control to the unit in the main room, so AC is not a viable option. I have tried opening the house up at 6 am and placing fans in the windows to get some of the cooler air into the house, but it doesn’t seem to help. We sit in front of fans, wear as few clothes as is reasonable, try to be still, and wait for evening. If we go out, it is imperative that we walk on the shaded side of the street, and we are efficient with our errands. We have a two hour siesta every afternoon. We are learning to navigate this climate.

The biggest grace is the swimming pool. In the thick, hot air my children are like wilted flowers: limp, pathetic, dying. They refuse to read, write, play or talk (unless to complain).  As soon as they hit the water, however, they come alive. Color restored to their faces, their limbs fill with energy, and their voices begin to race with conversation, questions, and constant narration. The pool is only 10 feet in diameter and four feet deep. (To call it a “pool” is generous; it looks more like a hotel fountain.) But it is enough. As I write this, Jasper and Josie have been in the water for two hours, with no signs of fatigue. And I have no intention of pulling them out before lunch. It’s too damn hot.

The heat is familiar. Growing up in Washington, DC I slept in the attic and rarely used the window unit air conditioner, preferring to sleep, with wet towels and the exhaust fan. Summer after summer I sweat through sports camps and outdoor jobs, thinking nothing of it. In college I lived in San Pedro Sula, Honduras for a year, a city known most for its extreme pollution, crime and heat. I lived on cold coca-cola, licuados and frozen paletas. I came to crave lime, chile and salt in everything I consumed. After college I followed my boyfriend (and eventual husband) to the Peace Corps in Gabon. In the hot, coastal city of Libreville I found a perverse pleasure in the mixture of lethargy and restlessness one experiences along the equator. The heat made everything more intense, which is just what one is looking for when she is in her 20s and seeking her fortune.

But I am no longer in my 20s. I am now nearly 40 years old and responsible for two small children. My job is to keep them safe and when possible comfortable, because uncomfortable children are no fun to be around. Heat that I might otherwise dismiss or embrace, I now feel I need to combat, no holds barred. So I will search feverishly for that remote control to the AC, stock the freezer with popsicles, and look up movie times for the matinee. Once we figure out how to deal with this heat, I feel confident Merida will be our playground. For now, it’s an inferno.