Can we talk about air conditioning? Because I’ve just returned from Barcelona and they seem to have skipped over the AC craze, deciding instead to keep on keeping on with the heat and humidity. No matter that the city is not all that far from the equator and has 300 days of sunshine a year.
I should have realized pretty early on that something was amiss as even when we arrived at the airport it was a tad toasty. However, I was more focused on finding our driver, who seemed to have left the building when our flight was delayed two hours.
I mean, it wasn’t like we were in an open air market. There was some cool air being pumped into the place, but not hardly enough to mitigate the four thousand bodies that were roaming about.
Don’t get me wrong, I was not looking for Stop-and-Shop cold. That place is like a meat locker. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, we keep sweatshirts in the back of the car, just in case we run out of milk and have to make an emergency trip. My youngest begs me to go elsewhere. Or leave her in the 183-degree car. It’s a less drastic fate.
However, during our eventful trip, I was shocked to find that air conditioning isn’t really a thing the Spaniards do. From restaurants to churches and even the hospital’s emergency room waiting area, cold air was almost non existent. I thought I was going to die in a puddle of my own sweat.
Of course, I knew I was going to Spain. In July. I wasn’t expecting sweater and boot weather. I packed accordingly with lightweight sundresses and flips flops. But when you’re choosing the days outfit based on which dress will show the least sweat marks, things have gotten out of hand. And I’m not a dainty, perspiring lady. I sweat like Lebron James. I’ve come in from mowing the lawn and had my family ask me if I just jumped in the pool to cool off. The answer is always no.
I sweat from my shins, my ears and even my knuckles. Air conditioning is not only my friend, it is a friend to everyone who has to be around me the first time the temperature rises above 77 degrees. Luckily my sister, one of my companions in the land of humidity, also sweats like a rock star. And my mother, the trip leader, well, she spawned us and our sweatiness. She has to accept at last partial blame.
I had a nice chat with a lovely young Barcelonian about the lack of consistent cooling systems in his homeland. Though he was complaining about the heat, when I mentioned that the U.S. does air conditioning in a big way, he simply smiled. As an afterthought, he gave me a puzzled look and said, “Hmm. I wonder why we don’t have more air conditioning.” But then he moved onto another subject. And that was it. He was perfectly content to wallow in the horror that is 89 degrees with 89-percent humidity and one percent chance of rain. I was baffled. And more than a little horrified.
I think the moment that nearly sent me into a full-fledged panic attack was the day we stepped on the tourist bus, prepared to get in a full day’s worth of sightseeing, and were greeted with a wall of hot. I saw the air conditioning vents. They even seemed to be stirring the air, in their own small and completely ineffective way. But I immediately felt like someone had sucked the fresh air out and dropped in a grenade of swampy hotness that threatened to consume us. The only recourse? Open a window. Seriously. But, like putting a Band Aid on a sliced jugular, it didn’t do much but slow our certain death.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have been quite so agonizing if the touristy stopping points had offered some relief. However, though beautiful and awe-inspiring, the many parks, beaches and historic cathedrals were completely without AC. I briefly contemplated kneeling before the breathtaking majesty of La Saggrada Familia and praying for a little freon. Or at least a Stop and Shop. However, I decided that hell definitely does not have AC.
Now that I’m home, I’m looking forward to cranking up the central air and running through my house in wool socks and a sweater. Just for a minute or two. Just because I can. And next time I decide to travel to a foreign land, I’m going in February.
I probably would’ve been a lot less bothered if I’d been able to hydrate properly. Carrying a half-gallon of water around whilst walking through cut streets is just not practical. If I’d had my choice, I would’ve make Wellness Mama’s recipe ( http://wellnessmama.com/2575/natural-sports-drink/) for a hydrating drink.
Homemade sports drink recipe
without artificial flavors or ingredients.
Author: Wellness Mama
Ingredients
1 quart of liquid (options: green tea, herbal teas, coconut water, plain water, etc)
⅛-1/4 tsp Himalayan Sea Salt (regular table salt will work, but it doesn’t have all the trace minerals)
¼ to ½ tsp crushed Calcium magnesium tablets or powder (optional)
¼ cup or more of juice (optional. Can use grape, apple, lemon, lime, pineapple, etc)
1-2 TBSP sweetener (optional)- can use honey, stevia, etc. I suggest brewing stevia leaf into the base liquid for the most natural option.
Instructions
Brew tea if using or slightly warm base liquid
Add sea salt and calcium magnesium (if using)
Add juice and mix or shake well
Cool and store in fridge until ready to use
Notes from Wellness Mama
[As an example, my normal recipe includes 1 quart of tea (brewed with Red Raspberry Leaf, Alfalfa, Nettle and Stevia), ¼ tsp sea salt, ¼ tsp calcium magnesium powder (about 1,000 mg), and ¼ cup grape or apple juice]
Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.
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