It's about to be very hot in Belgium over the weekend and the start of the next week.
I was practically raised in a sauna, but I want you to know: I have never ever experienced temperatures higher than 36 degrees Celsius in a natural outside environment in my life. I've travelled to warm places, but always out of season.
Last year I had to walk to the car service part-ways in 35C, and my eyes were literally drying up as I walked, though as long as I kept moving at a slow, steady pace, I actually tolerated the heat well.
As of now the weather forecast for monday oscillates between 35 and 39C. My husband will be fleeing to his air-conditioned office. I deliberately keep my east-facing room's blinds closed for days on end not just to protect my antique junk and clothes, but now to keep the temperature down. There's a fan.
I'm feeling very intimidated.
Oh yeah and I'll be on Graspop fest iver the weekend with 30+ degrees in humid old Dessel, Belgium. The last time I had to endure those temps during a festival was in Ozora, Hungary, and it was agony, even though the air humidity was significantly lower. I drank hot beer. HOT BEER, because the aluminium cans in my tent just did what they do when baked in a tent in direct sunlight in 30+ degrees.
It was actually surprisingly great. Hot beer, that is. But it was agony, not because I can't handle heat, but more because the showers were icy cold, the lines to them were long, and there's a point where being a sweaty, sticky and stanky mess around thousands of others sweaty, stinky sticky messes becomes emotionally exhausting. It's not the hwat, it's the feeling of being filthy with your own skinwater.
