For something we cannot do anything about, we certainly talk about it a lot.
The weather, that is.
A lot of my expatriate compatriots moved to Mexico for the weather. I didn't.
And that is fortunate. Because my comfort level hovers between 55 and 65 degrees. Toss in some drizzle and skies the color of old American battleships, and I will be content.
I came to Mexico for other reasons. And because those reasons are still attractive, I tolerate the weather.
The weather and my bucolic locale, relieves me of all of those silly "what must I wear" questions. The answer is repeated each morning. The same sandals, shirt, and shorts I have been wearing for the past week.
When I returned to Melaque last week, the air made me feel as if I was in the gut of a crocodile. 90 degrees. 85% humidity. Bad enough that I could not sleep for three nights.
And when I finally got around to breakfast, I discovered the humidity had dissolved all the glue on the cereal box, and the bananas I had bought two days before had been baked in the Cartesian oven I call home. Not simply ripened. Baked.
There are two ways to deal with the heat: acclimation and accommodation.
I thought I had lost my acclimation from spending well over a month in the air-conditioned bosom of a cruise ship. But even the young woman at my favorite local grilled chicken stand said she was unable to sleep because of the heat.
It was an odd discovery. Taking solace in shared misery. Para-schadenfreude.
That left accommodation.
My neighbors are expert at it. Going out only in the early morning hours. Walking on the shady side of the street. Moving slowly. Carrying the ubiquitous sweat rag for men and umbrella for women. Indulging in the sybaritic pleasures of the siesta.
Or, in my case, just sticking around the house on my shaded patio. Catching up on my accumulated reading. And taking advantage of available breezes -- from the laguna and my Duracraft fan.
That, of course, will last only so long. The Prisoner of Zenda is a part I could never play. Eventually, I will mount the Shiftless Escape and start exploring the local countryside.
But, for now, I will catch up on the financial news, read a good book or two, and try to make some sense out of the political scene -- here, in Egypt, in Greece, and the United States.
The temperatures are still hovering around 90. But the humidity has dropped to 75% or so.
With a bit of acclimation, and a lot of accommodation, I can Gloria Gaynor it.
