Summer and the Gripes of Wrath

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Prague, for all it’s charms and loveliness, has one major problem. It is too damn hot. At least, for about 2 weeks of the year. Those weeks are hellish and the discomfort is compounded by a couple other factors. It has become my least favourite time, which is a shame as it formally ranked high.

The air gets extremely stuffy. The city is nowhere near the sea. It’s famously landlocked. There is a river, but it does not precipitate enough to offset the stifling air. Occasionally, some clouds do get through, and a crack of lightening liberates the rain. The weather gets nice for a couple days but then builds to another damnable heat. It is woefully oppressive.

Another factor that make this season horrible is the fact that some days half of my students cancel. For some reason, it’s always the middle guys. This leaves me in an awkward situation. There isn’t always time to go home. Sometimes there are no classes to plan for. Cafes cost money. Alcohol is inadvisable before work and more than one makes the weather even harder to weather. Cancelled classes often equal a loss of revenue at a later date. It’s no wonder so many people go off to do Summer camps and such, but I rarely think that far ahead.

Owing to the fact that I came here accidentally for two months in Winter/Spring, I do not have a lot of Summer clothes from back home. New clothes often seem a bit of a waste to me. After all, they will only be unwearable come Autumn. A new pair of shorts has proven an extremely necessary investment. Last year I just wore the same ones all the time. It was a bit manky (a handy Scottish word that means disgusting). Other than that, in the past year I have only bought or received new pants and socks. I overheat constantly. Every day I run around this hot hot city in clothes optimised for 12 – 22 degrees, when it’s more often 27+. People from really hot places scoff, but I’d almost always rather be too cold than too hot.

The biggest gripe though has got to be the fact that this season makes me insanely nostalgic. Young Summers were so much more fun. From 8 till about 19 or so I went to Mallorca nearly every year with my folks. I got to swim in the sea and eat too much food, and a crazy amount of ice cream. I’m surprised my teeth survived the sweetness. I must stop a second and thank them once again in print for doing that for me. As well, I need to send out good vibes to the Bonanca boys who always showed us a slice of a relaxed life. Besides the holidays were my rural adventures up on Dan’s farm, running about woods and such. There was my time in the Scouts going to camps. There was skateboarding and music festivals.

And so here are my gripes about Summer summed up as well as I can. It is too damn hot. Being hot is no good when you don’t have ice cream. Hot weather is not cuddling weather. I miss Mallorca and the sea. I haven’t touched the Mediterranean in 5 years at least. What Summer is when you grow up a bit is too much work and discomfort and an inability to sleep right. My planned early Autumn holiday in Croatia cannot come soon enough.

Grumpy at heat but nevertheless continuing to bear my soul, including the angrier, more annoyed bits, every day of this month.

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