forgetful

No, this post is not in reference to Paris Hilton. Though, I may do a post about her some other time, since forgetful.ca is lacking in the celebrity gossip department, and I’m sure Shan and Dan would really appreciate a good dose of Hollywood-itis. Really, who is NOT interested in how Paris is doing in jail. Oh wait…everyone? Dang. Nevermind.

I digress.

Summer has arrived in Ottawa. Officially. And while I’m currently freezing my butt off at the top of an air-conditioned glass tower, I’m fairly certain that it is currently over 30 degrees outside. 30 degrees is hot.

When I first arrived in Ottawa (almost five years ago), it was mid-August. I boarded the plane in Victoria dressed in a typical Victoria summer outfit: a skirt, top, sandals, and a light coat for the evening, when the sun goes down and the air cools. I thought that I was dressed perfectly for my arrival in my new city. I was like Felicity Porter at the beginning of the series, small-town girl arriving in the big city with suitcases in hand, eagerly anticipating fun and adventure. Of course, I didn’t move to Ottawa to follow some guy from high school who I didn’t even know, but I suppose that is the difference between Felicity and myself. That and a whole lot of curls on her part. My hair doesn’t even bother trying to curl anymore.

As I stepped off the plane, I felt a rush. A rush of excitement? No, actually. A rush of ridiculously hot air. I felt like I was standing in front of a massive blow-dryer, set to the turbo heat setting. I decided that this had to be plane exhaust. Obviously. When I had collected my luggage, I headed out the front of the building to catch a taxi to my new apartment. Funny thing…the “plane exhaust” seemed to have travelled right around the building and was now beating down on me again, despite the fact that it was well past 11:00 p.m. and there didn’t seem to be any sorts of heating vents directed towards me, standing on the exterior of the building. Not that that would have made a lot of sense anyways, but I really could not comprehend the situation. In what world does it not cool down at night? In what world is it really THAT hot to begin with?

That night was awkward to say the least. Kathie (my roommate) and I had a houseguest, who had arrived before me. Kathie and I had one (1) oscillating fan, roughly the diameter of a large frisbee, and with the horsepower of a special-needs snail. It was somewhat less than effective. I had pictured us sitting around, enjoying a relaxing glass of wine, casually discussing how grown up we were. In fact, the three of us spent the evening chewing on ice, sitting in front of the fan (windows and doors open, of course), and contemplated how much work it would be to get rid of the furniture she had already purchased and just get out of there. This pretty much became the theme of the next month or so, as the temperature rarely dipped below 30 degrees and the humidity in the air had it feeling like 40 degrees. Every. Single. Day.

At least we lived downtown. Not far from our apartment was a large Chapters store, complete with the requisite Starbucks. I think that between the three of us (myself, Kathie and houseguest), we paid their rent that summer. Each day, we would drag ourselves through the moisture-ridden air to Chapters, where we would sit and savour the air-conditioning whilst enjoying an actually hot cup of coffee, which is totally unenjoyable in the heat. Once we’d dried out to the point that we shivered, we headed back out for the long walk home, walking through as many stores as possible to maintain our quickly diminishing cool.

A few weeks later, the situation improved. We had the typical two-or-three-week Ottawa fall and then winter hit, which was a whole other can of worms that I have discussed more than enough in my previous blog life.

So, why is Kris still blogging about weather? Can’t she think of anything else? What a Debbie Downer…she should really get her own blog…right?

Actually, I’m here today to give a big thumbs up to what I once found to be such a pain in the you-know-what. Yes, that first summer was unbearable. But, somehow I’ve merged into the Ottawa climate well in that it has never been that bad again, though it continues to get that hot each year (though, that was a particularly bad stretch, I’m told). I’m at the beginning of my sixth dose of Ottawa summer and I am loving it. Yes, it’s hot. I work inside, so I can’t complain. We can stay outside and enjoy it until 11:00 if we want…where else can you do that? Yes, there are days where my hair stays straight for about 30 seconds before waving itself into a fairly unmanageable mane. But that is what hair elastics are for. In Ottawa, you’ll see people peeling down to shorts or t-shirts when it’s only 10 degrees, just because the thought of sun on exposed skin is tempting enough to risk a little chill. The excitement for summer is palpable…and it’s contagious.

I admit that the bus is a bit sticky at this time of year, and that sometimes it’s hard to catch your breath when there doesn’t seem to be a lot of air in the…air. But I love Ottawa’s summers…the crazy heat, the freaky thunderstorms and insane downpours. I love that I’m “harvesting” basil and parsely each evening on the deck, and that we can barely keep up with the plants. I love the fact that summer is followed closely by fall…another Ottawa favorite. Ottawa’s summers are spectacular. We have a three month stretch ahead of us and I, for one, am looking forward to it.