Thursday, December 9, 2010

Blood, Sweat & Tears

Okay, scratch the blood part of that…and the tears…okay, there may be some tears, after all, it is Australia’s first month of summer this December and, to put it in harsh-terms, I loathe this season. It’s a bias of my mine, but of course, does not come without warrant. Not only is my part of Sydney notorious for being the hottest over other parts, but it is hardly within distance of even a healthy patch of sand. So even though some like to glorify it by calling it ‘beach-season’, I personally prefer to stick to more realistic terms like ‘sticky’, ‘humid’ and…‘hell’.

One of my main arguments for my unfavourable view on summer, aside from my distance from the beach, is that in the hot weather, controlling temperature is a significantly bigger challenge than in the icier season. I personally love winter, and I think that it sucks that I have never spent a Christmas with snow on my window seal, it’s certainly one of those things that sit on my metaphorical ‘Things to do before I die’ list; Christmas in winter. The thing I enjoy most about winter is having the ability to simply pile on clothing and be warm, even when it’s cold. I can’t put into words the euphoria that comes when unpacking my woollen cut-off gloves, scarves, ugg boots, thermal socks, heater and even just wearing jackets that I haven’t worn since the previous year. Here’s the thing - I get why some prefer summer; winter is cold, our fingers and toes suffer, people are sneezing and coughing influenza back and forth like a tennis match, but it could be five degrees Celsius outside and all you need to do is put on a couple of layers and incorporate some vitamin c into your diet, and you’re golden. The situation differs in summer. In the hot weather, you could keep stripping off clothes and you will still be hot; hell, you could get butt-naked, which would be hot (pun intended), and, aside from the fact that you are now most probably sitting in a gaol cell, nothing would have changed!

Just for some helpful-imagery, here’s what a typical summer day is here in Western Sydney: it’s about ten days at a beach that is at least forty-minutes away, but when reality intrudes we realise that the one hundred other days of blood-bubbling-temperatures are spent estivating in our homes, worshipping the air-conditioner, working in the heat, virtually getting cooked walking to the mail-box, being grinded by smelly, perspiring men on the train, swimming in dirty public-swimming pools, seeing me with my sexy abs out (say what!), having a 7-Eleven mirage in the middle of a suburban street, having your face gang-raped by flies, not to mention, the food that you’re about take a bite of, having your blood thieved at by disease-ridden mosquitoes after you've finally gotten to sleep after many hours of flipping your pillow over and trying to figure out in your head if there is even a point to a lone bed sheet; it’s essentially having the realisation that it’s…it’s just hot and you don’t like it! Apart from that handful of fun days spent pretending that you have enough money to be a northern Sydney-sider, catching waves and relaxing on the sand, summer just isn't exactly my cup of iced-tea.

So let’s review: In winter, with a mandarin a day and some practical attire, it can be a joy. In summer, with an air-conditioned car…wait, I don’t drive, let me try that again; with a portable air-conditioner…wait, no, they don’t exist; with a whole three months spent inside in the the air-conditioning…oh, wait, that’s right, I have class and a job, one last time; with a…well, hmm…I’d hate to be the bearer of bad news, but does it seem like hot weather is just something that has no practical solution? You’re only real remedy in our heat is to be so rich that you never have to work again, that way you can move your arse to the northern beaches of Sydney, hire some people to build you a garaged-house on the sand, get central air-conditioning installed, buy a nice car, hire a maid to do your groceries, hire some fanners to follow you around the golf-course you probably own or from your car to whatever millionaire’s ball you are attending and you will never be hot again, however, if you never end up being that rich, or rich at all, then no summer of ours will ever be a pleasurable or comfortable one. I also have no doubt that, even if you do live close to a beach or try to spend every second of free time at one, there still will be multiple instances weekly where you will be caught down on your knees, begging the powers that be for nothing short of a cool-breeze. My point in all of this: you could be a hermit crab or you could even live like one in your home, but when it comes down to it, our summers will still only really ever consist of a bunch of salty-saturated people thinking the exact same thing that you are: that they hate being hot!

No comments:

Post a Comment