shoestring gringa

Tropical or temperate climate? This was a biggie for me. I had a lingering suspicion I might not thrive in Yucatan, having once spent a summer in Ft. Lauderdale, which has a similar climate, and boy, was I right.

Some people just love the tropics — (mad dogs and Englishmen, and quite a few Canadians) but if you have never spent the hot season in these precincts, check it out before making any big commitments. I was utterly miserable, having always lived in pleasant Mediterranean climes like California, or the dry desert Southwest. I found the humidity smothering and oppressive. I couldn’t figure out what the hell to wear, because having anything at all next to my flesh was torture. The local women went blithely about bareheaded, in miniskirts and skimpy tops, a style which I declined to emulate because (a) that kind of exposure isn’t too flattering on me, and (b) my skin would have cooked to a crisp. Wearing a bra was unthinkable. I finally devised an acceptable outfit for the street, consisting of a linen-y blouse with pockets which hid the bralessness, a short denim skirt, and a large-brimmed straw crownless hat whose open top allowed the steam to exit off the top of my head while providing shade for my face. So much for fitting in with the locals. I was able to walk to the market and back in this getup, but once home would have to rip it from my body in desperation and run to stand under a cold shower for ten minutes. Around the house I wore loose rayon tank tops and mini-pareos, and hoped nobody would come to the door.

To be fair, many big old houses in Yucatan stay fresh and cool in summer, but our casita, with its asbestos roof, was not among them, despite the high ceilings and sea breezes. Some people resort to air conditioning, at least in one room, to cope with the hot season. Unfortunately I am physically and philosophically allergic to air conditioning. And electricity in Mexico is shockingly expensive.

Winter was marginally better, but to tell the truth I found that pretty unpleasant as well. The humidity was such that one felt chilled at 65F. A malign wet wind blew, ushering in respiratory complaints and flus far nastier than any I’d experienced in drier climates. When it was cool, and the sun was out, it was creepily possible to feel both hot and cold at the same time, a sensation I found singularly disagreeable. No, I did not adapt well to the tropics. We ended up moving.

If, like me, you prefer a temperate clime, you have lots of choice, as the whole north of Mexico qualifies, as well as the vast high central plateau. The climate in many of these places is rightly described as “eternal springtime.” The main thing to be aware of in these areas is that, even if it’s eternally spring outside, the masonry houses can be cold at some times of year, so don’t give all your warm clothes to Goodwill before leaving. And bring that down blankie, and the flannel sheets, and all the rest of it. You can always get rid of it later. But you can’t dash out to Target and buy a new one if you need it.