The last time i lived in a climate like this it was Brisbane, probably back in 2006ish? If you're a pasty European like me you will spend these ~6 months of the year with stringy hair, flushed cheeks and a permanent sheen. What i forgot was the insects. Living in Brisbane it was particularly bad because Australians have a tendency to build single-storey detached homes, so you get a full assortment of garden creepy crawlies too. Also spiders. Very fucking large spiders.
Up here on the 13th floor in a city that - while having lots of greenspace - is extremely dense, i figured i'd be safe from the worst of it. The other day i left my kitchen window open while i mucked around online, then when i went back to cook there was a giant fucking cicada buzzing and humming in between my condiments. Like, the size of my thumb fucking cicada. I eventually managed to coax him back out the window. My heart was beating out of my chest. I felt almost relieved when dusk welcomed back my cockroach buddies.
You see, although my house is furnished extremely minimally and i keep it reasonably clean, cockroaches are fact of life here. The only blessing is that so far i haven't seen one longer than about an inch. When i do see one, i try to pick it up on a piece of paper and chuck it out the window. Not that it matters, since for every one i see there are a hundred i don't. I figure as long as they keep their walking around out of my sight, we can share the space. I mean, i know for sure every chopstick, every mug, my wok, my toothbrush, my underwear... It's all been scouted and nibbled and shat upon. But what are you going to do? Can't live in a bubble.
And then you're just lying back minding your own business and one fucking crawls up from under the mattress into your bed and it's like... are you lost? What the fuck, dude, that's crossing the line! And yet... It appears i've hit the point of exasperated nonchalance. I pick it up, i take it to the window. Again. Or maybe i try to pick it up, but it escapes down a crack. Again. You shrug, you move on. Now i remember how i lived in Brisbane. Cocky? Oh, for fuck's sake, not another one. Long as he didn't crawl into my beer, eh?
I should probably buy some traps, though, since this is only the beginning and God knows it's going to get a lot more humid when the rains hit for real. I don't mind them taking over the place while i'm asleep, but i'd at least like to have my bed for myself.
Anywho, despite its anti-bug perks, i have up until now refused to turn on the air conditioning unit. I know most of my neighbors have kicked theirs off because i hear a near-constant drip-drop from the upper floor condensation pipes. But my bloody-mindedness has been winning out. It's similar reasoning to why i hardly ever turned on my heating when i lived in Berlin. Don't want to waste energy. Don't want to unnecessarily add to my carbon output. Don't want to be a pansy. People survived for millennia without. If it's cold, i'm cold. If it's raining, i'm wet. If it's hot, i'm hot. The end.
Yeah, except it's not the end because today i stupidly forgot my water bottle in the office and my whole bed is damp like it's been rained on and i had a shitty day at work anyways and i just want to have a brief moment of not feeling like i'm simmering in a custard of dust and poo and fumes.
Okay, it's not quite that bad. But a half hour of air conditioning while i typed this out has set me up comfy enough i might be able to drop off quickly tonight. Here's hoping.