That popular trope "It's not the heat, it's the humidity" has been made fun of from Saturday Night Live Miami Vice parodies to countless internet memes. Here in Mexico, on the beach, in August, it is more than a meme. It is a real, tangible experience - attested to by our sweaty faces, our damp clothes. It is an all-pervasive component of many (most?) conversations. "Hace mucho calor", "Que calor", "Estoy muy acalorado", "Ayer estuvo muy caluroso". It is the shared experience of the environment that we all feel the necessity to comment on. Of course it's hot, but I'm going to let you know that I know it's hot.
"¿Por qué estás aquí en agosto?" ("Why are you here in August"?) is a question that I get frequently here on the Pacific coast of Nayarit. Locals here expect to see a lot of Mexican tourists this time of year, but gringos don't tend to come to these places in the summer - especially not the late summer. There are a few reasons why I like the hot, muggy time of year to visit the beach. One is that I prefer to avoid the massive influx of tourists that occurs when it starts to get colder in the U.S. and Canada. It is quieter this time of year. Mas tranquillo. Y prefiero la tranquilidad. The birria restaurants are less crowded.
I also like being in the ocean. I like to feel the energy of the waves, to be immersed in a force of nature that is so much larger than myself. And coming here in summer provides a built-in forcing function - going into the water becomes a necessity to escape that pervasive and relentless heat. It's also a handy way to wash the sweat off 😅.
Life slows down. Political divisions and culture wars give way completely to simple interactions about la clima. How hot it was today, how hot it's going to be tomorrow. The looming specter of septiembre, when it will be hotter still. We all have something to talk about, without disagreement. Que calor.1
I didn't want this particular article to turn into a post about climate change - I wanted to make an observation about our shared experiences, and how those shared experiences can bring us together rather than dividing us. But climate change is real and it will only exacerbate the unusually elevated heat (and the hurricanes, typhoons, draught, and wildfires) that people all over the world are experiencing and will continue to experience. And the people who will affected by it the most will be those without the means to escape it. This includes a very large percentage of the people in Mexico.
I am holding a sad smile or better described as a smile (attributed to your writing, of course. Thanks!) emerging from a sad face. I am homesick and not sure where home is for the moment. Refusing to leave my air conditioned home, I try to convince myself it is a choice. Is it? People meeting up tend to begin conversations about the weather. I never wanted to succumb to what I judged as trivial, banal, surface. And, I note my own compulsion to do so these days. I did not know September is hotter than the Northern Mexico Canícula: or dog days. They come in 40s. What an insult to dogs *, anyway. While I enjoy the waves of melancholia you enjoy the kinetic force of the Pacific waves and the ozone and the birria tacos (I have yet to try them)
* When Sirius would appear in the sky just before the sun, near the end of July, that marked the beginning of the very hottest days of the year. The Romans referred to this period as "dies caniculares" or "days of the dog star," which was eventually translated as just "dog days." Dogs vindicated?
We visited the Pacific coast of Nayarit in January one year. It was overcast and cool the entire week and very tranquilo, not too many people. We stayed in Guayabitos (hope I spelled that right, coffee is calling me and I'm not going to switch over to Goggle to check) and found some nice places to hang out, drink coffee (there's that word again) and eat some lovely food. Very nice experience.
I love your description of the ocean and its energy. I'm in agreement. Thanks Mike!