a new meaning of calor

No puedo creer el calor que hace en Sevilla.

It’s a heat unlike any other. A wet heat, gentle heat, a heat that gets into every part of the city and stays there, pounding and pushing night and day. The closest Seville gets to air conditioning, except in some of the more modern clothing stores, are the skinny streets that are almost always shaded, the cool tile patios, and the rickety standing fan which is the newest addition to my room (and incidentally my new best friend). In the last few days I have gotten used to being perpetually wet and sticky; leaving for class after having taken a shower and dried myself off and arriving 30 minutes later, drenched. My nights are spent tossing and turning, the only relief from the stuffy heat is my window which lets no breezes through, only bugs. My ventilador helped last night, but it’s been a little while since I’ve been used to sleeping with a fan.

My señora just told me to close my window because in Sevilla, when the sun starts peeking through the tall blocks of apartment buildings, it’s time to salvage whatever coolness might remain in the house and wait to open the window again until the sun goes away. I’m starting to think that siesta is necessary, even though it’s extremely counter-productive and irritating. A few months ago the Spanish sun was a welcome sight because it meant I might not have to wear my warmest coat when I left my ice box house. Now it means all the Americans are wearing their mini skirts and flip flops and all the Spanish woman are wearing short sleeves and sandals instead of scarves and knee-high boots.

I had to laugh last night during my fourth hour of insomnia when I was looking at the estimated temperature list for July in my Let’s Go Europe book. Copenhagen: 69. Berlin: 73. Budapest: 79. Madrid: 90. In Seville, well, I think it gets worse than that. According to my señora, May is the unpredictable month, June is starts getting hotter, but July and August are the months where the heat is the worst. I will thankfully be safely at home by the ocean, readjusting from the nine-hour time difference, getting re-spoiled on the temperate weather of So Cal, and trying to purify my body after living on the Spanish diet of ham, oil, bread, and red wine for six months.

I think I’ll survive, especially since I’ll be traveling for two weeks around Italy and Greece. According to Let’s Go, Rome and Athens only get to 83 and 89 respectively in July. The two hottest cities in Europe after Madrid…