Hot Hot Hot!

Dexter Poindexter has nothing on us cause we really “feel on fire.” The first 3 days we were in Tonga were extremely torrid. Trying to come up with a description of the early afternoon sun we could only surmise the word-blowtorch. It wasn’t just us, everyone commented on the heat and no one moved much between noon and 4pm. We have no thermometers but it was probably around 95F and very humid with no breeze. Later we had a fisherman tell us they fish at night because “if you fish during the day the sun fishes you.”

Eventually spring arrived, (actually fall on this side of the world) gentle winds picked up, clouds moved in and the weather turned very pleasant. Occasionally we still get the reminders that we are not in Kansas anymore. My roofing company in the States, Peaks and Valleys is still working and I have had to spend some time on the phone. Talking to Ben D one morning I realized I had begun to sweat, I had water running down my glasses and could feel it dripping inside of my shirt. I thought it was quite odd to work up that much sweat just talking on the phone seeing how it was only 7:30 A.M.

We often walk with Alice, our daughter who teaches here, to her school, a very leisurely 10 to 15 minute stroll. On arriving we sit and observe the bustle of pre school activity, I find that I’m pretty beaded up and have sweat running off of my hands. The only time I have ever noticed that much water on the back of my hands was in saunas.

It’s usually hotter in the town because of the lack of breeze and foliage. We spent a night in town a while back and were feeling quite acclimated to the weather so we walked to our guesthouse thru town, full backpacks, late in the afternoon. We arrived none the worse for wear and I noticed above the registration desk was a clock and thermometer combo. It was 5:15P.M. and 87F. The sun was waning so we were feeling pretty good about ourselves and I was interested to see how low the temp would actually get. On awakening the next morning I proceeded directly to the desk to check the temp and it read 82F.

I assume next weekend in California we will need to borrow coats, something I have been incredulous with in the past. Incidentally I have been reading “Notes from a Small Island” by the inestimable writer Bill Bryson and I still did not have the guts to name this letter “Hot as Shit.”