At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if someone found me delirious, entangled in sweat-soaked mosquito netting, mumbling incomprehensibly, spinning the blades of my long-since burnt-out box fan with my fingers, lying on the floor of my bedroom surrounded by the bodies of a thousand dead insects.
It's not just that it's hot here-- I am fairly acclimated to blazing summers, having lived in places equally sweltering during this time of year-- it's that the heat is so persistent, so inescapable, that is getting the best of me. There is nowhere to hide from it, and the near-constant exposure, I have noticed, can make one a little bit nuts.
During the afternoon hours the neighborhood simply shuts down. Shop owners lock up and the streets empty; people wait out the day indoors as the sun scorches the air. Indoors one still sweats perpetually and continues to bake, though at least out of direct exposure. In the evenings things come back to life. People pour out into the streets and the neighborhood uncharacteristically becomes a frenzy of activity. Weddings are especially common during the summer months-- outdoor affairs with music, elaborate, colorful clothing, and dancing, open to everyone. They get started after midnight and last until daybreak. I often hear the music and clapping floating through the streets as I lie in bed.
Unfortunately at this point the nights are not long enough to cool down the air. Luckily the fan, despite just pushing around hot air, is enough to allow me to fall asleep. At least it was. First came the nuclear mosquitoes which left long-lasting purple welts. I would awake to myself scratching bites, new and old, throughout the nights. Luckily I was able to fend them off with a little plug-in device that emits some chemical, possibly also giving me a brain tumor. I'm ok with that for now.
After several weeks of insect-free nights my body resumed a non pox-infected appearance and I enjoyed nights of real sleep. The most recent joy, however, is an army of little....I dunno, bugs...that swarm in, attracted to the light and later attack my body in a barrage of tiny bites and crawling around on me. Luckily these don't leave itchy bumps, but they are relentless enough to completely prevent sleep. Slathering myself down with insect repellant (and isn't that something you want to do before getting into bed?) has no effect on them.
The dilemma is-- can't shut the windows due to the heat, but open windows equals bug invasion. I am going to cut one of my mosquito nets into window screening today and see how that works; hopefully it will do the trick because I think my sanity depends on it.
A week ago I was staying at a hotel in Rabat on the top floor in a small room at the end of a hallway. No air conditioning of course, and the room was sweltering. Somehow I did fall asleep early in the evening, but awoke later in sauna-like conditions-- thick, heavy air and pouring with sweat. The windows had not stayed open; despite my rigging them with a coat hanger, the heavy wooden shutters slammed closed again and again. I got up feeling disoriented and went into the bathroom to down cupped handfuls of water from the faucet. I looked up into the mirror and saw that my face, chest and shoulders were red-splotched and I was feeling chills-- not good. I felt panicky and strange, envisioning myself trapped in this little room as heat exhaustion overtook me. I splashed water on myself, then tore the bedsheet from the mattress and soaked it in the sink. I laid in bed on top of the cold, wet sheet and tried to sleep. It was a long, torturous night. The following day I took a stifling five and a half hour train ride home, which I would rank as one of the most miserable experiences of my life.
I don't mean to complain, really, but due to the oppressive heat things have become stagnant. No work, no classes, almost impossible to stay outside. Irritability and impatience arise easily and quickly, and the repetitiveness and similarity of each passing day coupled with a lack of restful sleep can put you in an odd state of mind. I've yet to find my Zen stride. I don't think I've ever thought this before in my life, but I am ready for summer to end.
It's not just that it's hot here-- I am fairly acclimated to blazing summers, having lived in places equally sweltering during this time of year-- it's that the heat is so persistent, so inescapable, that is getting the best of me. There is nowhere to hide from it, and the near-constant exposure, I have noticed, can make one a little bit nuts.
During the afternoon hours the neighborhood simply shuts down. Shop owners lock up and the streets empty; people wait out the day indoors as the sun scorches the air. Indoors one still sweats perpetually and continues to bake, though at least out of direct exposure. In the evenings things come back to life. People pour out into the streets and the neighborhood uncharacteristically becomes a frenzy of activity. Weddings are especially common during the summer months-- outdoor affairs with music, elaborate, colorful clothing, and dancing, open to everyone. They get started after midnight and last until daybreak. I often hear the music and clapping floating through the streets as I lie in bed.
Unfortunately at this point the nights are not long enough to cool down the air. Luckily the fan, despite just pushing around hot air, is enough to allow me to fall asleep. At least it was. First came the nuclear mosquitoes which left long-lasting purple welts. I would awake to myself scratching bites, new and old, throughout the nights. Luckily I was able to fend them off with a little plug-in device that emits some chemical, possibly also giving me a brain tumor. I'm ok with that for now.
After several weeks of insect-free nights my body resumed a non pox-infected appearance and I enjoyed nights of real sleep. The most recent joy, however, is an army of little....I dunno, bugs...that swarm in, attracted to the light and later attack my body in a barrage of tiny bites and crawling around on me. Luckily these don't leave itchy bumps, but they are relentless enough to completely prevent sleep. Slathering myself down with insect repellant (and isn't that something you want to do before getting into bed?) has no effect on them.
The dilemma is-- can't shut the windows due to the heat, but open windows equals bug invasion. I am going to cut one of my mosquito nets into window screening today and see how that works; hopefully it will do the trick because I think my sanity depends on it.
A week ago I was staying at a hotel in Rabat on the top floor in a small room at the end of a hallway. No air conditioning of course, and the room was sweltering. Somehow I did fall asleep early in the evening, but awoke later in sauna-like conditions-- thick, heavy air and pouring with sweat. The windows had not stayed open; despite my rigging them with a coat hanger, the heavy wooden shutters slammed closed again and again. I got up feeling disoriented and went into the bathroom to down cupped handfuls of water from the faucet. I looked up into the mirror and saw that my face, chest and shoulders were red-splotched and I was feeling chills-- not good. I felt panicky and strange, envisioning myself trapped in this little room as heat exhaustion overtook me. I splashed water on myself, then tore the bedsheet from the mattress and soaked it in the sink. I laid in bed on top of the cold, wet sheet and tried to sleep. It was a long, torturous night. The following day I took a stifling five and a half hour train ride home, which I would rank as one of the most miserable experiences of my life.
I don't mean to complain, really, but due to the oppressive heat things have become stagnant. No work, no classes, almost impossible to stay outside. Irritability and impatience arise easily and quickly, and the repetitiveness and similarity of each passing day coupled with a lack of restful sleep can put you in an odd state of mind. I've yet to find my Zen stride. I don't think I've ever thought this before in my life, but I am ready for summer to end.
