I can’t say this with any authority, because this city has a conspicuous lack of outdoor thermometers, but I think this is the hottest, muggiest day yet. Despite it being Saturday, the waterfront is virtually deserted, save a handful seeking respite in the shade of a cafe, like me. A small backpacker colony has sprung up under the shade of a couple nearby palm trees. I may join them soon.
Every movement makes me feel unpleasant. There’s a Coke in front of me, but I’ve hardly drunk it, because lifting the glass seems like too much work. I’m sweating everywhere I have hair, and then some places I don’t, few as they are. Even as I write this message, I fear dropping my phone for the sweat on my fingertips.
I rejoice for every breeze. From the window of my room yesterday, I saw cumulus clouds in the mountains outside the city. I decided to do a rain dance to draw them closer. I realized I didn’t know how to do a rain dance, so I just danced and hoped the weather gods would give me credit for trying. Instead, they punished me for my insolence, and the clouds dissipated. There are clouds forming again today, but I will no longer tempt fate.
A few places here are theoretically air conditioned, but they aren’t fooling anyone. Even McDonald’s had its doors propped wide open because its air conditioner couldn’t keep up. I was in an air-conditioned Internet cafe for an hour, and it was pleasant until I was no longer alone in the room. One person it could handle; three people were too many.