The Central China Furnace

They call this city the Chicago of China, because of it's geographic location, but there is little else to compare to the Windy City. I've never been to Chicago in the summer, but I have a feeling its citizens don't experience this kind of draining, humid heat.

I woke up three times last night because I was too hot. I woke up two other times because I hate sleeping with the air conditioner on. So about every hour or so, I'd wake up to either turn on or turn off the AC.

They say the reason for the heat is the large number of lakes surrounded in the Yangtze river valley, which is surrounded by large mountain ranges. The water in the lakes gets hot, and the heat has no where to go except the air. And as the summer days go by, the heat and the humidity rise until locals can't bear wearing clothes anymore. Men roll up their shirts to expose their bellies and women wear mesh night gowns out to do their vegetable shopping.

I have a theory (one I am sure my anthro professors from college would NOT support, given it is completely based on speculation) is that the culture here is largely affected by the heat. I can feel voices getting louder, people getting impatient, workers getting careless as the temperature rises. Like the humours in the bodies of the locals begin to boil and the constraints of society imposed by the cheerfully written propaganda banners become irrelevant. I can see it in their eyes: "I'm hot and I will take this bus and I don't care if anyone else needs to get on." I don't blame them, I get the same way. I've noticed that I've started picking fights more and more with folk who don't move to the back of the bus after boarding or who stare at foreigners in restaurants.

My apartment doesn't have running water during most of the day (only available from 6a-9a, 12p-2p, and 5p-11p), so my water usage schedule has been deeply affected over the last year. I came home yesterday at about 4 to take a shower before meeting a friend at 5. I'd spent most of the day at Starbucks working on grades, but between the walk to Starbucks that morning, the walk to lunch to get lunch at a small restaurant, the walk back to Starbucks, and the walk home from Starbucks, I'd managed to sweat through my jean cut-offs and my tank top, completely soaking the back and straps of my backpack. Being so thoroughly drenched and convinced that I also thoroughly stank, I came home to take that shower. Except it wasn't five yet, so my water supply was markedly low. But I insisted, and I took a shower in a small stream of ice cold water. And it was awesome. I have never before been so hot that taking an ice cold shower sounded like good idea. But as my body cooled, I began to feel a little less like I was a small, shriveling bean sprout and a little more like a real human being with a will and capacity to accomplish things.

I'm not quite sure how I survived the summer heat last year. I am looking forward to the Jersey shore and the cool Atlantic breeze.