Gosh, do you think I'll need a jacket?
Wonder if I should bring a sweater?
These sentiments disappeared completely from our conversations.
By the third week of April, Hong Kong's days were hot and humid. I found myself taking cold showers and doing a lot of laundry. On the streets I periodically ducked into stores for the cool rush of air conditioning. I gulped the icy ventilation as if sucking from an oxygen mask. I would stroll an aisle or two, feigning interest in the merchandise, then dive back into the stifling heat for a few more blocks.
Five minutes outside and my sunglasses were sliding off my nose in a river of sweat.
To hear the locals tell it, we're having a perfectly cool spring and it doesn't get really bad until July.
I met a middle-aged woman in the elevator of our apartment building. She was from Atlanta. Four years ago she moved to Hong Kong with her husband, an IBM consultant.
I asked how she liked living here.
Oh, I love it! she enthused, then added, I do have to return to Atlanta for the summer though...it's so much cooler there.
Having spent summers in the American South, cooler was not a word I'd use.
Of course, we're having a lovely, cool spring in Hong Kong this year, she said with a big smile.
I looked down at my blue jeans, soaked through and embarrassingly dark with perspiration. Instantly grouchy, I wanted to smack her across the head with my backpack.
Here's what I did love about our neighborhood: We lived on the same block as the Hong Kong Cultural Centre, the Hong Kong Museum of Art and the Hong Kong Space Museum. A little further up the street, we had the science and history museums.
All these venues were free on Wednesdays, so that's when I went. One evening I popped next door and saw the Merce Cunningham Dance Company at the cultural center. Walking next door for highbrow entertainment was my idea of convenient...and all the buildings were air-conditioned.
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