Creating a new routine in 40 degrees Celsius or more presents unexpected challenges for a west-coast Canadian. Back home, living by the sea keeps the temperature moderate; though we occasionally have heat waves into the mid-thirties, the average temperature in Vancouver during the summer would not be more than mid to late twenties. Sevilla recently experienced the hottest recorded temperatures in May ever. On one of these hot, dry afternoons—on my way to give some English lessons—I saw on a large digital thermometer that the air had reached 41 degrees by 3:30pm. The twenty minutes each way left me feeling crispy and exhausted. I came home to our apartment, with the blinds drawn to keep out the hot sun, drank a litre of water or so, landed on the couch and stayed there for a good five minutes without moving. The air is so dry outside that you do not really sweat until you come inside.

When Rob and I visited Australia during their summer a couple years ago, Melbourne also experienced a heat wave where temperatures neared forty degrees. Such heat waves are fairly normal there but luckily they are peaks in the average temperature and do not last the whole season. The air was dry like here, and I recall going for a run one morning, like a true green newbie, and coming back parched as a bone. As soon as I entered the cooler indoors I began dripping with sweat, while outside it had evaporated off my skin immediately. When the breeze blew, it was like standing in front of a giant hairdryer.

This aridity of Melbourne’s climate felt strange to me. I had travelled through hot towns in Central America where the temperature reached 38 degrees or so, but the climate was humid. Instead of feeling crispy you were constantly damp. Immediately after having a cold shower you started to sweat and there was simply no chance of ever having a dry forehead. I have always heard that humid temperatures feel worse, in that they really get into your bones (I have definitely experienced this to be the case with humidity in the winter; wet cold generally feels worse than dry cold). However, I am not convinced that I prefer dry heat. Maybe it has just been too long since I experienced those dripping afternoons of the tropics, but the task of crossing an arid landscape while the sun burns down with obscene intensity has begun to really scare me.

What scares me most is that the temperatures we just experienced are only the beginning. Sevilla is known for hot summers, ranging somewhere in the forties for at least a month or two. The other day my Spanish teacher told me he had once seen 53 degrees emblazoned on one of those digital thermometer signs (but luckily that is not the norm). The streets are deserted in the afternoons and everyone shuts up their windows as if something sinister were about to blow through the streets. I begin to wonder about our choice of Spanish cities, but there is no point in ruminating too hard on that. We made the decision based on a variety of factors and we are committed now, with Rob’s study visa tied to a great school here and our apartment leased until the fall. So we will just have to make do. We will visit my family in Denmark during the summer and perhaps we can work in a few other holidays. And besides that, well… time will tell. The fear of someone finding me like a dusty peanut husk in the street does frighten me. Alternatively, I fear escaping that fate only by hiding in a dim cave of an apartment all summer, fanning myself in a clammy heap in front of the one air conditioner. Again, time will tell.

From a bit of oral research, it appears that our hope lies in the mornings. The temperature cools through the night, and people get out for exercise and fresh air before midday. Looks like I will have to become an early bird for a few months, although with Spanish dinner culture not really coming alive until nine or ten… well, it is a puzzle we have yet to solve.

In the meantime I am enjoying the positively balmy days of 32 degrees or so, as the heat wave has temporarily given us reprieve. Yesterday I accompanied some friends to a beach about an hour or so away by car, and the air, the sun, the breeze—it was all perfect. It recharged me and filled my soul. There is hope yet. And the saying does go that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Survive this summer and build character!