Today I woke up to heavy rain and the clatter of computer keys.
Being the optimistic fool that I am and enjoying the cooler weather of the fresh morning rain, I pulled out the jeans for daytime wear for the first time in well over a month. I donned my long-sleeve linen dress shirt and actually put on socks and tennis shoes (they were getting dusty and jealous of my sandals).
I stepped outside to enjoy the cool breeze on my face; the thermostat read only 32 degrees, the lowest temp I've seen in weeks. Just as I got outside to catch the morning 615 bus, the sun started to shine. And I began to melt.
By the time I hopped off the moving bus for the two-kilometre walk to my next bus, I was drenched with sweat. The humidity was unbearable and the temperature was rising – fast.
Hanging on to the back of the 604, I was actually dripping. I'm not usually a sweater, and this was out of control. The 50-something man clinging next to me had a grin on his face enjoying the ride and watching me suffer.
Bearing the heat and fighting off the delirium which would have resulted in my letting go of the railing and tumbling onto the busy road with only my computer offering cushion, something occurred to me. The men here don't do anything about the craziness of India because it gives them the opportunity to enjoy life like kids. I mean, where else in the world can you enjoy the youth that hanging off of a speeding bus provides? My co-clinger was certainly having a good time.
I've been at the office for three hours, and I'm still drying off. I'm not looking forward to leaving this afternoon, when the heat and humidity reach their peak. Perhaps the monsoons will come after all?
Joke for the day: What do Indian toilet paper and John Wayne have in common?
They're both ruff-and-tuff, and they don't take shit from Indians.
Flown by mariposa at 09:42 AM on June 24, 2005
