Manhattan
I grew up in Chicago, which is not a temperate place. When I was a kid the television weather report was pretty much predictable in the months of July and August. I do remember word for word one report: Humidity 96%, temperature 97 degrees: RUN FOR THE HILLS. The weather guy said that, and now I remember why.
Somewhere along the way, living in places like Austria and the Pacific Northwest, I've lost my ability to cope with the heat. I've been in Manhattan for three days and I feel like a wrung out dishcloth -- and things aren't all that bad. Temperature 91, humidity 56. And yet, when I went outside it felt as though I was being enveloped in one of those hot moist towels they used to give you on overnight flights to wash your face. And before you remind me, I know that there are people in much worse conditions. Hurricane Emily is out there stomping around, causing trouble.
What this does remind me of is writing the part of Lake in the Clouds that is set in Manhattan in the summer of 1802. I remember thinking that Hannah wasn't taking enough note of the heat. When I raised this topic, she scoffed. The heat didn't concern her. But still, I asked her, isn't it hard for you to be wearing O'seronni clothes in this weather? O'seronni clothes were always uncomfortable, she reminded me. So I concluded she had no real observations or comments to make about the weather, and she did not.
We have looked at many colleges and run around the city and I hereby declare today a Personal Break Day, in which I am not obliged to go study anything. I worked in Manhattan for two summers and came here at least once a month while I was in grad school, so if I don't get to see the Empire State Building yet again, I am not so concerned. Instead I'm going to write, and I'm going to luxuriate in the air conditioning, and when the mood takes me, maybe I'll go out -- but not too far -- and find some food.
Back to Hannah, twelve years older -- and still pretty much impervious to the weather, although right now she's in New Orleans, December 1814, and it's cold and wet and pretty nasty in its own way. Though I have to say, that sounds pretty appealing to me at this moment in time.