Thursday, 2 September, 2010 30 C and Rising: Day Five of the heatwave

30 C, and Rising



This has been a great summer in Nova Scotia, and, after our past winter, I believe it is a sampler of what global warming is doing to our cold North Atlantic shores.

Today was a time machine: the heat (30C) and the humidity (humidex 38C) to me back to Abu Dhabi, Sri Lanka, Guyana, Trinidad and Tobago, Thailand, and, of course, mother India. I had temporarily forgotten how the solid heat weighs you down, making you capable, at the top of the day, of little more than
a) huddling in the air-conditioned spaces, or
b) putting on your sarong, and sitting on the patio drinking cold beer, cold drinks, tea, fresh lime juice and soda, and just being in the time, in the place, in the moment.

I recalled being at our house at 6, Bel Air Springs, Georgetown, Guyana, sitting on the back screened verandah, looking out at our fan palm, and mango trees, with the sea wall beyond, just across the main highway to New Amsterdam. The heat, with the Kiskidee bird, constantly asking, “Qu’ est que dit?” The cattle egrets hunting in the drainage ditches for tasty morsels.

Transported, as well, to the heavy humidity of the savannahs, staying at the old Water Conservancy Lodge, a 30 minutes boat trip through ever-changing channels. The legs of our beds set in cans of water to keep the crawlies out...ever conscious of the family of tarantulas that lived under the back step.
And going swimming in the conservancy, after being told to slap the water to frighten away the piranha, and having those same piranha pan-fried that evening during the two hours we had the generator going for lights. And the howler monkeys in the trees at the edge of the jungle, just as the morning sky pinkened, preceded the heat.

Timeshift to Trinidad, sitting on the back patio in the monsoons, with the rain falling straight and heavy to the earth, splashing upwards from the force of the impact. With humidity so thick that, if you looked closely at the grass on the back lawn, you could not see the earth beneath, just a shimmering, as though peering into another dimension.
Visits to the Asa Wright Centre, in the heart of the Northern Range, where the dampness of the rain forest permeated your clothes, and the only relief was plunging into the cold mountain spring-fed pool with small waterfall. Magical, then the scores of birds coming to the feeders on the verandah of the Dining Room/Bar...with the heat all around, stirred by lazy overhead fans.

Sometimes, wonderful things happen in one’s life: La Tranquilidad cottage on Tobago. The cottage was set on a large lot, just across the road from a deserted beach, secure on a fenced lot, it was built in the form of a rectangle, with the bedrooms, baths were on the north, and west sides, kitchen and open living area on the south side, solid wall and barbeque area and bougainvilleas to the east, pool boys/gardiner gate at Northeast, in the centre opened to the sky and the living area is the rectangular pool. Our own private swimming pool !!! We would bring Venus, our nanny/cook/friend, over with us to share the chores. Vacation time for all. Loads of fresh lime soda, and Carib Beer in the fridge.

Shark and Bake, with Shado Bene sauce, and Carib Beer at Maracas Beach on the North Coast, and driving up, up through the rain forest until the coast spread below us, sparkling in the sun.

...and halfway around the world...

The Corniche rimmed a harbour veiled with heavy humidity. With temperatures of 40C, Terry and I would escape on our little 15' fibre glass Piranha, driven by a big 60 Merc. Pack the beer and frozen water packs, towels, bathing suits. A 20 minute run would take us to our “Jungle River” where a narrow creek fed into the vast waterway complex around Abu Dhabi. These waterways were made almost entirely of a fine white sand, that constantly shifted to form new channels, and islands. We would haul up the boat, and just lay in the water, which was warm bath temperature...

On the other side of the UAE peninsula, was the old trading port of Khor Fahkhan. The hotel was right where the 5 mile long sand beach was stopped by the coastal hills. Now these hills were not your nice grassy slopes kind of hills...I mean, like these hills were young mountains, rough, tough, and ready to rock and roll. Very stark and moonscapish. But the shoreline in front of the hotel sloped gently out into the Arabian Sea, where, about a hundred metres out, the bottom dropped out of the ocean.
We would swim around the rocks, at the feet of the young mountains, surrounded by bright vegetation, and brighter fish, until the sudden look at the abyss drove us, shivering, back to the safety of the beach.


Staying at the Polhena Reef Gardens Rest House on the South Coast of Sri Lanka. At night the ceiling fans do not penetrate the stillness within the cotton mosquito netting, and the night birds and weird things control the night, and you hear them, in the damp stillness, living their lives. Into the sea at first light, cool and magical coral gardens, with schools of fish flashing around us. And the terrible humidity of the night I ate a really hot devilled prawns dish that guaranteed my night be spent between the toilet and the shower. Sigh!
Then overnight at the Tangalle Beach Hotel, with balconies looking out, towards next landfall, Antarctica, oceans away. Driving with all windows open, the A/C is useless in this rental car, up into the Hill Country, past waterfalls, with monkeys playing in the water of the pool.

...to be continued...