simmering in the park with jorge

114!


At one point on Wednesday, that was the heat index in the afternoon. I don't know how long it stayed that high, but it was hot all day. Hot all week. Hot all month.


I need to look at the weather records for the area, but the hearty expatriates, who stay during the Melaque summer, tell me that this summer has seemed hotter than the summers of memory. Sometimes, perception is everything.


Of course, in my memory, I was once tall, handsome, and witty. That is why I want to look at the records.


I am not a fan of heat. But even I have underestimated the impact that high temperatures and lack of sleep can have. I sat in my Spanish class today having no trouble translating from the page in front of me, but I could not interpret anything when I heard it.


Jiggs seems to be just as befuddled. We go on our walks, and he just stops at street corners as if making a decision is too much work. A herd of cats could run by, and he would pay them no heed.


"Oregon summers are perfect." That refrain bounces through my over-heated cranium now and then when I start wondering how I ended up in this heat. But even that is not true this week.

Salem has literally been sweltering with temperatures in excess of 100 degrees for several days now. Mercifully, the humidity is lower than here --I don't think they have managed to hit the 114 mark. But there would be no real relief if I were in Oregon this week, rather than in Villa Obregon.


There is one bright spot in this weather -- other than the sun.


For some reason, our beach is coming alive with local tourists. The buses have been hauling in fresh faces as if the World Cup finals were taking place in town.


There are feet on the beach. Hands in the shops. And bottoms in restaurant chairs.


The place had the feel of a main street in a ghost town just a month ago. Today it is alive -- despite the heat.


There may be another post nestled in that thought.