Coping Strategies

I am a cold weather person.  I like cool crisp air to breath.   My brain works best at temperatures below 65 degrees Fahrenheit.  A doctor once told me that I probably have a high number of some platelet in my blood relative to the average population, which makes me this way.   So being in the tropics for the last two and half years has had its challenges, and I have developed some coping strategies.  Here, now, I share them with you in the hopes of dispelling illusions that I am on some sort of permanent, idyllic vacation.

On land I have several strategies.  I seek out the freezer and refrigerated sections of a grocery store---not something one can always rely on in the Pacific, but certainly here, in the Caribbean, they can be found.  If there are large refrigerator cases, I lean back against the glass and let the coolness penetrate my skin.  I have been known even to open the door briefly.  Freezer sections are usually bins, so I slowly peruse all the items leaning over as much as I can into the cold bins.  I carefully examine everything, trying to seem like a serious discerning shopper, but not taking so long as to arouse suspicion that I may have some nefarious intent.

If there is an air-conditioned shopping center, I will loiter as long as I can.  To Jon, this is a waste of time, since I am not even shopping, and it can be really boring.  But the walking does me some good and I savor whatever moments of AC I can gather.

Later, long after the grocery store is a distant memory (usually in less than half an hour), I am again hot, so then I go off in search of ice cream.  This is an excellent coping strategy, which I highly recommend.  It not only cools me down on the inside, it tastes good.  Jon is used to such excursions and even joins me sometimes.  YUM.

On the boat, I have several strategies to stay cool.  If the water is clear of crocodiles (that is, as long as we’re not in northern Australia), I jump off the boat into the water.  This is a common strategy among cruisers everywhere.  The benefits are immediate.  Being on a catamaran, is especially beneficial because we have two hulls.  I can swim underneath the bridge deck, which joins them.  It is shady there.  As brown as my skin has become, you wouldn’t suspect that I hide from the sun, but Jon and I both do.

Yum.

We also eat Icy Pops, those frozen plastic tubes of colorful sugar water.  YUM.  I refer to them as my Cadmium rods, since they prevent a complete and total thermonuclear meltdown of my inner core.  These are precious.  Australia was the only place I’ve been able to buy them abroad, but I seriously stock up on my occasional trips back to the States.  Wal-Mart sells them for about $5 for 48.  That is a good price, but when you add how many I purchase with how much they weigh, the amount of money I have spent on overweight baggage makes them precious indeed.  Jon, too, shares in this coping strategy.

During the high heat of the day, when the people who live in hot climates take a mandatory siesta in order to escape the heat, I often lie, in a semi-catatonic state,  underneath my 12 volt fan, nearly naked, wiping a cold wash cloth over my body and holding an ice pack on my head.  Please Do Not Try To Visualize This.

Finally, when I am desperate to save my sanity, I resort to the mind-over-matter psychological technique of visualization.  I imagine myself somewhere high up in the Swiss Alps, where it is so cold that I have to wear wool sweaters and drink hot cocoa. YUM.

So the other day, Jon and I were ashore in Falmouth Harbor, Antigua, where we have been watching the Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta.  There is a dockside café called Seabreeze, where, in exchange for a small purchase of food and drink, they let you have free WiFi and watch their television.  Jon was watching the intense semi-final match in the UEFA Champions League between Chelsea and Barcelona.  I was intensely utilizing land-based coping strategy #2—I was eating Hazelnut Gelato—when I discovered yet another coping strategy.  Humor.

The busy waitresses in this café rarely slow down; the business has been brisk with all the racers and spectators.  But this was the day after the last race and things were calmer.  I finally got the chance to read what was printed on the back of their T-Shirts.  For your amusement, it said:

Heaven

is where 

the police are British

the cooks Italian

the mechanics German

the lovers French

and it is all organized by the Swiss

Hell

is where 

the chefs are British

the mechanics French

the lovers Swiss

the police German

and it is all organized by the Italians

… now that would be a Euro crisis!  I had to chuckle and actually felt better. But I think I’ll have another cup of that Hazelnut Gelato for good measure.  YUM.