• Katlyn Roberts

Beat the Heat Like a Spaniard

Updated: Jan 28, 2020

Maintaining sanity when you’re standing in a puddle of your own sweat.

I moved to Spain two years ago, so this will be my third summer of complaining loudly to anyone who will listen that I’m “sweating my fuckin’ balls off” and “Is my face really red right now? I feel like my face is probably really red right now” and “There is so much sweat in my butt crack right now omg can you see it through my pants?”.

I grew up in Tucson, Arizona — where I would complain just as obnoxiously about the 120-degree weather (48.8 for you celsius dweebs). It wasn’t the higher temperatures that made Tucson worse, though. It was the fact that people would always inevitably give me this nails-on-a-chalkboard response:

“Well, at least it’s a dry heat.”

They’re lucky I was so dehydrated or I might’ve had the energy to punch them in the face.

I hate all heat, ok? I hate wearing shorts, I hate chub rub on my thighs, I hate that my sweat attracts mosquitoes. I hate that, when I get bit by a mosquito, my skin swells up like I’m covered in extra nipples — areolas and all. I hate applying sunscreen, I hate wearing sunglasses, I hate getting sweat in my eyes, I hate the sweat that builds up on my upper lip and in my eyebrows, I hate not being able to drink my tea hot, as God intended it.

But, since moving to Spain, I finally understand what people meant about the dry heat being the better option. I know what it’s like now to walk around in a thick cloud formed of my own (and everyone else’s) hot, evaporated sweat*.

*Don’t check my science on that, just appreciate the imagined sensory experience you’re having right now.

Spontaneous Poop Combustion.

This year, Spain has already seen record-high temperatures. A recent heatwave caused a European weather map to scream out in pain:

That same week, firefighters in Catalonia (a semi-independent region of Spain with Barcelona as its capital) struggled to contain wildfires which ended up burning over 14,800 acres. Officials say the fires likely started when a pile of manure self-ignited in 100-degree heat.

Take a second to let that sink in… It’s so hot here right now that poop is spontaneously combusting. Honestly, that’s the most Catalan thing I’ve ever heard. Catalonian people looove poop jokes and I can only imagine they felt a lot of conflicting emotions when the story got out.

I could get into a lecture about how clear it’s becoming that climate change is rapidly killing our planet and how we must all prepare for the End Times, but I don’t feel qualified to give that lecture, so I’ll just tell you about some tricks I’ve learned over the last few years and we’ll all pretend together that we have some control over this situation. Sound good?

(To read the rest of this article, check it out where it was originally published in The Startup.)

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