A staggering heat wave has hit Galway, keeping the city in a sweaty, tangled mess of exposed limbs, reaching up to 80 degrees! (That’s almost 27 degrees for you Celsius fans.) So why is it that a person from Missouri, where the temperature routinely hops over 100 (38 C), is sitting here in Ireland complaining about the heat?
I’ll tell you why! Ireland just isn’t set up to deal with heat like the amber waves of grain are! Here are the main problems I have with Ireland’s heat coping skills: 1. For the love of God, is there a single air conditioning unit in Ireland? That was a rhetorical question, because though I’ve never seen one, I know there is at least one: the chemist is downright chilly.
“Wonderful,” you think. “The chemist is below Annie’s apartment!” Ah, but the cursed hair salon with its hot blow dryers and its steamy curling irons and its really hot appliances sits between me and cold bliss. (Sorry, ran out of synonyms for “hot.”)
Luckily, the two-euro shop (the equivalent of our dollar store) has tiny fans that plug into the USB drive of your computer.
Warning: Your boyfriend will try to steal one to cool off his Xbox.
To let the Xbox get some fan time, I try to spend a little of every day browsing for makeup in the chemist. I think they’re catching on, so I’ll have to start purchasing some. I’m going to need it anyway, because all mine will have melted by the end of this heat wave.
2. Shirts on, big guys. That’s something makeup can’t fix. I know the U.S. is known for an obesity problem, but that doesn’t mean every non-American man is cut out for the shirtless look! I’m talking to you, Irish beer guts!
Now, I know you’re not used to this heat, but for the love of God, let’s not go all Lord of the Flies! It was bad enough when I had to read it in high school! I’m trying to order a chicken sandwich here, and you and your bros are missing both your shirts and your shoes. Does this ring a bell?
I guess not, because they still served you! 3. Bugs. Now, I know Missouri will beat Ireland hands down as far as bugs go. Mo’ bugs, mo’ problems. But Mo.’s better prepared for that, too!
Because there’s apparently no AC in Ireland (I don’t know where they’re hiding it!), the windows have to be constantly open. Well, they don’t even really open. Half of it pushes out about .034 centimeters.
And because apartments in Ireland aren’t designed for the open-window lifestyle, there are no screens on the windows! What does that mean? It means you’ll be living side-by-side with every fly, gnat and “midgy” known to Ireland! It doesn’t really matter, though, because you’ll just end up having to close the windows for your boyfriend’s hay fever. (I’m not even really sure that’s a thing.)
4. People be crazy. We live in an apartment on the main street of Galway. As fun and convenient as this is, it also means with our windows open, we’re basically in 519 conversations at once.
(Stay tuned for my series titled “Things Drunk People Say to the Oscar Wilde Statue Below My Window.”)
We’re basically at the mercy of whatever the people outside decide to do. Whether it’s playing 632 drums at 9 p.m.
Or letting your dog swim in the fastest flowing river in Western Europe (according to the free walking tour).
Or dancing in the street.
Note to the violinist who plays the “Game of Thrones” theme song: You can stay. Note to the 2 guys who do identical “7-foot-unicycle” acts at different times of the day: You most definitely cannot stay. (“Hey ma’am, if I crush your kid, I’ll help you make a new one.” I’ve actually heard both unicyclists use this.)
Hey, Ireland, would you just rain already so these guys go inside?! Otherwise I’ll have to feed ’em to the sharks!
5. There are sharks at the beach. At least that’s what was going through my mind when I was chest-deep in the ocean today and I saw fins popping in and out of the water. After the initial urge to scream, I remembered what a Galway boat driver told me recently: People were reporting shark sitings in the bay, but it turned out it was just a dolphin. Swimming with dolphins!?
Nah, not that either. They kept their distance, but Google tells us it was most likely the itty bitty fins of these Galway Bay loiterers:
Boooooooring. They don’t even do any tricks!
6. Daylight is literally the worst thing ever. Around 8 or 9, the Missouri summer chills out, and the sun leaves you the hell alone. But the Irish sun just doesn’t get it. 9 p.m. comes and goes.
“What is it? Like 3?” I think, checking my watch as the sweat drips from every pore. (Just kidding, I don’t have a watch.)
As I write this, my computer says, “It’s 10:17, bitch. I’m hot. Turn me off!” (We have a very honest relationship.) Yet outside, that sun of a b**** is still shining!
Now, I’m no expert, but I got an A in “Understanding the Weather” freshman year (gimme a break, it was science for non-science majors). So I know for a fact that the sun is not supposed to be out that late. Talk about last person at the party. Sun, I don’t know how else to make you get it … I’m hot! Really hot! So you’ve done your job!! Please leave!
And it will. Eventually. But it will also be up before 5 to start torture anew.
What’s that? Do you hear it? It’s my dad’s voice … floating across the Atlantic … “Sssstop biiiiitchiiiiing!”
Well fine! I’m done! But the next time Mom says, “Rand, go turn up the temperature on the AC. It’s freezing in here,” you better think of little ol’ me melting in Ireland!
Melting in Ireland. Never thought I’d say those words.
Update: A cold drink and the promise of another swim at the beach tomorrow has chilled Annie out. But she decided to publish this anyway, so that her parents feel sorry for her and send her things.