Acclimation

 I always feel a bit envious of the people here in Indonesia because of their natural acclimation to the heat. Actually, I guess acclimation is the wrong word. They were born acclimated! I am sitting this evening at the neighborhood Starbucks, the temperature is 30C, which translates to 86F (even though it's cloudy), and yet the man at the next table is wearing a thick hoody sweatshirt and the girl beside him is wearing a jacket over her blouse. That's right, a jacket. Did I mention that it is 86 degrees Fahrenheit?

I generally feel that I have not acclimated at all, but then I just remembered this morning, upon catching sight of a particular washcloth in my closet, that I used to have to carry a washcloth along with me wherever I went so that I could continually wipe the sweat from my brow. So I guess I have acclimated to some extent, as I no longer carry or need the washcloth. That said, I'm still not about to wear a thick hoody. My God! It's uncomfortable enough just to wear a button-up shirt instead of a tee shirt, which is something I avoid unless the temperature dips to a chilly 29C (82F). 

Lately, during midday here, the temperature has gone up to 34C, which is 93.4F, or, with humidity factored in, about 900 degrees by any measure. At these times, I tend to hide in the house and watch old movies. Or sleep. 

To tell the truth, folks, you don't see many bikinis here, unless they are being worn by white folks, although you do see a goodly number of white folks who have become rather alarmingly red folks. The fact is, Indonesian girls rarely go to the beach, and especially not in the sun. The idea is for their skin to be lighter, not darker. It's a class consciousness sort of thing. Nonetheless, every Sunday evening, all the Indonesians flock to the beach (wearing hoodies and sweaters, of course), where their children swim while the adults set up picnics and gather in groups to chat. The little children often swim naked or in their underwear (why waste money on a swimsuit), and people come along with carts selling bakso or sate or barbecued corn on the cob. And when night falls and the people leave the beach, there's one hell of a traffic jam on Sanur's single beach front avenue!