Hot Hot Hot

Summer is officially in full swing on Skyros and it has brought a gaggle of tourists, an ever-increasing number of cockroaches, and an unrelenting heat with it. When I say “heat,” I’m not messing around. The overnight low is between 75-80* (from about 11pm until 6am) with highs hitting 90*++ and holding steady by 10am. Did I mention that the farm here at Trachi doesn’t have air conditioning? And that cold running water is a laughable idea during high summer? Basically, everyone here is sweaty. All. The. Time.

The afternoon nap has now become a mere battle during which we all toss and turn trying to create our own personal breeze- “restful” would not be a term I would use to describe this previously recharging time of day.

We dash in and out of the shade to wet our clothes (which dry out in a matter of 10-15 minutes), do chores dressed in sports bras or rolled up shirts, and the shortest shorts we can make out of our clothing, and drink litre after litre of water. I was confused when I first arrived by the lack of bra-wearing by both the locals and the other volunteers. Now I can see why- bras just provide another later through which we can sweat. If I wasn’t in such a runaround frenzy, I’d go all women’s rights, too.

I also have perma tan lines on my feet from my faithful North Face flip flops. Lines so thick they could be used as homing beacons run across the tops of my feet, which are now so brown I often get confused and try to “scrub the dirt off of them…” The other volunteers here find my very cleverly laid-out tan lines to be a source if amusement and as hard as I try to brown the white lines away on the beach, the hours spent walking around the farm have presented me with a losing battle.

Also ICE. This now precious-to-me commodity has been haunting my dreams with an ever-increasing frequency since I arrived on Skyros and now, more than ever, do I miss ice. The freezer here is crammed full of food that no one touches but which won’t be thrown out (including what appears to be most of a goat…), so finding and filling ice trays has become a pipe dream of mine.

Oh, how I wish I could sit in the shade of my grandfather’s shop, sip sugary iced sun tea, and listen to the sounds of the breeze roll through the trees… To be cool again would be wonderful, but for a glass of iced tea, I’d do back flips.