WHENI was still teaching I relished summer only because it meant less teaching load or a two-month vacation and having time for myself. But other than that I did not enjoy summer.
I could not understand why we would relish that time of the year when the sun is being its scorching, sadistic self.
Waking up to sunshine filling my small room (unwelcomed at that) is not a spark of joy but the makings of an incinerator. If I were not working it meant I could wear light clothes but then again why would I venture going outside at all when the sun is 31° yet felt like 38°.
When it is cold, I could wear a sweater or a hoodie or be a burrito inside a blanket. What would I do when it is summer, rip my skin off? They say that I would feel better if I wear clothes that do not cling to my skin yet I am not the type to wear lycra, elastane, or spandex. So I buy clothes made of linen, cotton, crepe de chine, cotton voile, and even batiste. They have been called natural fabric and rightly so because the moment my sweat glands are triggered by Mr. Sun’s generous rays, my clothes become wet rags, and stick on my back like second skin. Nothing can be more organic than a sheer blouse that sticks to your body like it belonged there. So organic.
They also suggest open footwear--- like sandals or flipflops. I have been doing my hikes in these and when I talk off my sandals its strap patterns have been burned unto my feet. I cannot even describe how my toes look like after 7,000 steps and 10 tons of dust.
With everybody else sweating, riding the jeepneys specially the multicab (my hate-st vehicle since time immemorial) is an exercise of tolerance. Some passengers scrimp on deodorants, others splurge on perfume. Some, I think, soak their clothes in unadulterated fabric conditioner to attract bees. And when the driver decides that a six-seater can accommodate 8 passengers (without considering the butt-size), you just don’t sit touch shoulders with others but also rub arms and knees.
At one time, I got off the jeepney I was riding in because I could not stand my seatmate’s sweaty arm beside mine. Call me whatever you want but I don’t think hyperhidrosis is a good way to start a conversation with a stranger in an overcrowded jeep.
I like the beach and walking barefoot in the sand. But then again what is there to enjoy when beach sand heats up like oven coils? And a 30-minute dip turns one’s skin into 50 shades of dark, darker and darkest? Beach during summer are live barbeque pits and salty cauldrons.
I am sorry summer lovers. I just don’t like summer heat because the cold never bothered me anyway.