Why, why, why is it so much harder to cope with the summer sun in England than when we travel the world?

Today in the South-East of England temperatures have reached highs of 32°. The hottest day of the year, so far. The news keeps saying so far because a) they love the phrase, the feel of competitiveness and b) we haven’t hit the full stride of summer yet. 

So why is it so hard to keep cool here?

Are our homes built differently?

I know when I visit Spain there is little to no worry about high temperatures. They have cool tiled houses with windows flung open being enough to cool the sweaty brow. Well here, we have an entire tiled bottom floor to our home, and even though it does feel cool, it does little to prevent the heat rising to the floors above. There’s also the fact that the last time we visited Spain we had a huge pool and once you start to feel the heat you can dive in, cool off and emerge refreshed. It’s a lovely cycle that I long for. In 2020, we had an obscenely hot spring and summer so I gave in and bought a pool. Only a big inflatable type thing, 8 feet by 4 feet I seem to remember. It took a month to arrive and I kid you not, the day it arrived on my doorstep, the rain came and the sun was not seen again for over a year. By the time 2021’s sun came around we had one week of it and then nothing once more. Said pool has remained in its box for nearly two years now and it’s only been the last two day’s worth of heat that has been longing to put it up. Forget nights in front of the television, I can see Mr W and I lounging in the pool, music playing and a class of something cool and tasty in hand. Ahhh true bliss!

There are so many times in my travels that stand out as really having felt HOT. So hot you think you are going to self combust, melt and shrivel like a prune all at the same time. 

During a Nile Cruise in 2010, we had some free time from all our excursions and decided to spend a little time on the top deck of the boat in the Egyptian Sun. As you came up the stairs to the lounging area, you came face to face with a bar. A fully stocked bar. Oh yes! We squirrelled away to two loungers at the rear of the boat so we could take in the sights while sailing. When getting drinks, we noticed a thermometer that read 50°. FIFTY! Absolutely insane and unheard of in England for sure. And yet it was manageable. I remember being under dappled shade on the boat, but one week later in a luxury hotel on the Nile I lay in the direct sun and even though it was hot I didn’t feel the creeping suffocation that heat can bring. 

Suffocating heat can be found in the rainforests of Queensland, Australia. We were visiting Patronella Park. The temperature was in the mid thirties. But it was the humidity that found its way to our skin and heads. The park is built from a vision to create gardens surrounding a castle and homes in which José Patronella would live and thrive with his family. It is an absolutely astounding place with sky reaching bamboo, lush planting, a waterfall, fountains and huge expanses of land to roam. I remember the day so clearly. We had arrived in a mist like rain. Soft but strangulating with its heat. I was enjoying the visit. It was like a secret garden for the sub-tropical world. But the humidity was unbearable. Rain in England mean’s water on skin, cooling down, moaning about your washing on the line. This rain meant sweat would be pouring off of your skin, heating up your body and creating a sticky layer of clothing that clung to you. I honestly think it is the most uncomfortable I have ever felt. It is a shame  I look back on that day wishing I had ignored the clinging of the weather. Patronella Park is stunning and should I return I will prepare better. There is something to be said though, that the lushness of the gardens would not be without the warm, wet conditions. 

A week later in Uluru, I found a different kind of heat. Dry! At 45° it was crazy to feel more comfortable than in Queensland. It was hot for sure, but an air conditioned coach or taking a moment in the shade was all the relief I needed. For the first time since arriving in Australia two weeks prior,  we found an afternoon to sit and relax. Our accommodation had a pool and shade. It was definitely time to stop. Much needed! The pool was small, with only 8-10 loungers surrounding it and there was a huge water dispenser, the kind you usually see in offices, just behind my bed. Paradise! Out of nowhere a humongous gust of wind swept across us, upending loungers with their towels into the pool. The wind felt as though someone had turned on a hair dryer. The intense heat was over as fast as it had arrived. In England, the wind usually means cool relief. There it brought only more temperature. I still don’t know how you would prepare to challenge that kind of weather. I guess it would have served me better to jump in the pool. To emerse myself in the cool water. 

Maybe water is the cure, Spain certainly has it right. In fact, José Patronella built his park around Mena creek with its cascading waterfall and flowing river. His Spanish mind knew the cooling waters would be key to keeping sane in the Queensland temperatures. We found sanctuary from the heat in the afternoon rains in the Dominican Republic. The temperature was not too hot in relation to Australia and Egypt, but it was definitely a sweaty heat. It clung to you. It makes body lotion sit on your skin and not be absorbed. Looking back on photos, I have a constant sheen on my face. Beautiful! It was easy to avoid the rains when at the hotel, a quick sprint from the pool to the covered restaurants or back to the air conditioned rooms was all it took. However, one afternoon, we decided to go to a local bar for food. It was made of dark wood and glass with a huge fish tank in the middle. It was a cooling place. A real bolthole from the weather. From heat and rain. Looking outside it was as though all the water on this green earth had started leaking from the sky. The landscape had blurred with his downpour. And then the leak was patched. Gone as if nothing had happened. It was a 15 minute walk back to the hotel and the sky was formidable. The grey clouds above, pushed the humidity down on us mere earthlings and were steaming us slowly. We came to the edge of a pathway at one of the very deep curbs you will find in the Caribbean. The roads had become temporary rivers from the recent downpour while the pavements promoted security from above. It was only when a splashing game erupted between us that we realised its true potential. Fun and refreshing. It was only when we walked through the hotel’s entrance and everyone turned to stare that I noticed that there were leaves and specks of dirt over our bodies. A present from the puddles that had proven their worth tenfold. 

So there we have it, water! It can both be a curse with its hot clinging nature and a giver of life. A cooler, refreshed life. In the most recent years where heat is absorbed by our bedroom carpet and in turn, turns the room into an oven we have taken to setting up a floor fan, having a late night cold shower, rushing to stand in front of the fan and letting it freeze the water droplets on our skin. Last night I lay in the dark feeling the familiar lethargy of the English summer. The ceiling fan wasn’t doing much to help and we hadn’t yet got the floor fan out of his lofty prison. Mr W turned to me in the darkness and said ‘Don’t you have a spray bottle up here?’ Why, yes I do. It is for the succulents I have. I asked him why, ‘Well,’ he said, ‘why don’t you spray it up above us and the fan will do the rest.’

Game. Changer!

For 10 minutes I sent the mist up to the dark ceiling and felt the cooling embrace of the water as it fell. Absolute bliss! When Mr W returned home from work, we fled to the bedroom once more and continued misting the room. The relief was instantaneous. Obviously, once cooled there was a tug of war over the spray bottle, itchy trigger fingers and much laughter. 

If I’ve learned anything from looking back at the experiences of extreme heat on my travels, it is to make the best of an uncomfortable situation. Much like the phrase, ‘learn to dance in the rain’, I think to complain is fruitless, we need to jump into the pool, puddles and cold showers. Make the most of it. Laugh and enjoy.