new and eloquent ways to describe this paralyzing heat
I usually don't like to just throw articles up here, but this one is so good I must. It really captures what it's like to be here in the hot months. My dear friend Heather in NY sent it to me - thanks Heather!
"It's 112 degrees in Delhi, and civility is setting in"
http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/0511/p01s02-wosc.html
Ok, this is me, Michael, writing again, not a cut-and-paste of the article. Anyway, I have never experienced heat like this. Yes, I have, actually, once -- in a special Russian dry sauna that nearly induced a near-death experience in me. I always thought Miami was really hot, and Puerto Rico, too. A couple of summers ago in New York I tried to go without AC until I felt like I just couldn't take it for even one more hour and trudged to the hardware store for a budget ac unit. I remember right about that time typing "Bhopal" into google news and seeing the top headline "Bhopal heat soars to 110 degrees," or something like that. I just remember the 110, and wondering with pity how that must feel. Well, now I know how that feels.
And there is no AC. In Delhi I found moments of relief in the ATM vestibule of Deutsche Bank. Actually, standing in there was like entering some kind of portal right out of India altogether. Here in Bhopal we just have fans. Fans are important because they also make it hard for the mosquitoes to hang out and relax. For AC, you'd probably want a constant flow of electricity, which we do not have, as the article above eloquently explains.
This week has been particularly rough here. Electricity has been off about half the day on a typical day. The part I mind most about it is the nasty exhaust from the generator downstairs, which is necessary to keep the refrigerators running in the pathology laboratory, where all the blood and urine samples are. It's the most (the only) pampered spot in the whole clinic, with very good reason, of course. I sleep directly above the pathology lab, but my bed still feels like a pizza oven. I have a fan, too, but the relief it provides is 80% stifled by the mosquito netting that is even more important than staying cool. The other annoying thing is that when there is no electricity, the UV water sterilization filters don't work, which means we have to find water elsewhere.
We also don't have water when the water "goes out." How water goes out, I don't know, but it does here. This week we have had no running water the majority of the time. If there is electricity, there is no water, and vice versa. In either situation, there's no drinking water easily available. You also can't take a shower or wash anything. I would rather have water than electricity. I have taken to filling buckets when we do have water, to avoid having to dip into the toilet tank in bad situations, of which I've had several. Last night I mentioned to the guard here how it seemed like we could never have both electricity and water at the same time. He just shrugged and sighed "India" a couple of times before gently prodding me back to a more sensible awareness that it is a luxury to have ever have running water at all. Most people around here do not. People have to get their water at pumps, hopefully not ones that draw from toxic groundwater streams. People line up to fill huge cylindrical containers made of metal and plastic that they then hoist up on top of their heads for long walks home.
I have grown almost totally accustomed to refreshing myself with hot water. A lot of people here draw water from clay pots, which keep water very cool. Actually, it’s really a neat system – the pots don’t keep the water cool (the water is never cool to begin with), they actually make the water cool. The clay is slightly porous, and the water soaks through to the outer surface. There, meeting the hot, dry air, it evaporates. The process of evaporation is endothermic – whenever a liquid turns into a gas, energy must be consumed. So, heat energy is sucked into the evaporation process, cooling the water. The clay acts as a wick to feed the surface more water continuously. After a very short time, the water inside could actually be called cold. It’s amazing. This is the exact same way that sweat works on our skin, of course, it’s just cool that they make these pots so that they sweat.
I am dealing with the heat. I’ve been eased into it over a couple of months and the padyatra honed my ability to stay calm and relaxed in the face of uninterrupted discomfort. The people I simultaneously pity and admire, actually, are two new volunteers who just arrived here a couple of days ago to create a French language version of the existing website for Sambhavna. These two girls flew from Paris to India and switched onto a small plane to land directly in Bhopal. First moment ever in India, walking out of an airport into this of all places, at 110 degrees, without knowing any Hindi and only some English. That’s gotta hurt.
"It's 112 degrees in Delhi, and civility is setting in"
http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/0511/p01s02-wosc.html
Ok, this is me, Michael, writing again, not a cut-and-paste of the article. Anyway, I have never experienced heat like this. Yes, I have, actually, once -- in a special Russian dry sauna that nearly induced a near-death experience in me. I always thought Miami was really hot, and Puerto Rico, too. A couple of summers ago in New York I tried to go without AC until I felt like I just couldn't take it for even one more hour and trudged to the hardware store for a budget ac unit. I remember right about that time typing "Bhopal" into google news and seeing the top headline "Bhopal heat soars to 110 degrees," or something like that. I just remember the 110, and wondering with pity how that must feel. Well, now I know how that feels.
And there is no AC. In Delhi I found moments of relief in the ATM vestibule of Deutsche Bank. Actually, standing in there was like entering some kind of portal right out of India altogether. Here in Bhopal we just have fans. Fans are important because they also make it hard for the mosquitoes to hang out and relax. For AC, you'd probably want a constant flow of electricity, which we do not have, as the article above eloquently explains.
This week has been particularly rough here. Electricity has been off about half the day on a typical day. The part I mind most about it is the nasty exhaust from the generator downstairs, which is necessary to keep the refrigerators running in the pathology laboratory, where all the blood and urine samples are. It's the most (the only) pampered spot in the whole clinic, with very good reason, of course. I sleep directly above the pathology lab, but my bed still feels like a pizza oven. I have a fan, too, but the relief it provides is 80% stifled by the mosquito netting that is even more important than staying cool. The other annoying thing is that when there is no electricity, the UV water sterilization filters don't work, which means we have to find water elsewhere.
We also don't have water when the water "goes out." How water goes out, I don't know, but it does here. This week we have had no running water the majority of the time. If there is electricity, there is no water, and vice versa. In either situation, there's no drinking water easily available. You also can't take a shower or wash anything. I would rather have water than electricity. I have taken to filling buckets when we do have water, to avoid having to dip into the toilet tank in bad situations, of which I've had several. Last night I mentioned to the guard here how it seemed like we could never have both electricity and water at the same time. He just shrugged and sighed "India" a couple of times before gently prodding me back to a more sensible awareness that it is a luxury to have ever have running water at all. Most people around here do not. People have to get their water at pumps, hopefully not ones that draw from toxic groundwater streams. People line up to fill huge cylindrical containers made of metal and plastic that they then hoist up on top of their heads for long walks home.
I have grown almost totally accustomed to refreshing myself with hot water. A lot of people here draw water from clay pots, which keep water very cool. Actually, it’s really a neat system – the pots don’t keep the water cool (the water is never cool to begin with), they actually make the water cool. The clay is slightly porous, and the water soaks through to the outer surface. There, meeting the hot, dry air, it evaporates. The process of evaporation is endothermic – whenever a liquid turns into a gas, energy must be consumed. So, heat energy is sucked into the evaporation process, cooling the water. The clay acts as a wick to feed the surface more water continuously. After a very short time, the water inside could actually be called cold. It’s amazing. This is the exact same way that sweat works on our skin, of course, it’s just cool that they make these pots so that they sweat.
I am dealing with the heat. I’ve been eased into it over a couple of months and the padyatra honed my ability to stay calm and relaxed in the face of uninterrupted discomfort. The people I simultaneously pity and admire, actually, are two new volunteers who just arrived here a couple of days ago to create a French language version of the existing website for Sambhavna. These two girls flew from Paris to India and switched onto a small plane to land directly in Bhopal. First moment ever in India, walking out of an airport into this of all places, at 110 degrees, without knowing any Hindi and only some English. That’s gotta hurt.
posted by Michael M. at 9:24 AM
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