Melting (literally) into my first summer in Italia.

A change in the weather is sufficient enough to recreate the world and ourselves.

Marcel Proust

After a rather unseasonably cool May and early June, summer arrived in Italia and all of Europe with a vengeance. If you watched the news, you probably heard about the “heat-tastrophe” that landed in central Europe this week. France recorded its highest temperature in history at 45.9 degrees Celsius (115 degrees Fahrenheit) in Gallargues-le-Montueux, southern France. Meanwhile, back in Torino, the last few weeks have sorely reminded me of the impact of high humidity combined with high temperatures. It is definitely a “melting into summer” moment.

After several years in Palm Desert, I can handle the heat. However, high heat and 90% humidity, that’s a different story. I’m talking about the kind of days that send your armpits into a 4-alarm-fire by noon, leaving your deodorant screaming for reinforcements as soon as you step out of the house. I’m fairly certain on numerous occasions, I have turned into “that guy” who gives hygiene a bad reputation among European travelers. However, in Euro-sizing my ego, I find that I just have to go with it and own my temporary shame in the event I turn bohemian for a few hours.

In America we have something called a “heat index” that shows the combined effect of temperature and humidity and the likelihood of imminent death from outdoor exposure. I decided to create something more specific to my needs, since imminent death isn’t something I’m interested in measuring. So, I created my personal “odor-index.” Which simply, is my measure for the likelihood of imminent embarrassment if my personal hygiene takes a nosedive. If the odor-index reading is particularly high when I leave my flat, I carry a stick of deodorant with me in my backpack in case I need to slap on a few more layers to get me through the day. Even then, I end up with a complicated fragrance that ages into something more organic throughout the day–think barnyard enveloped in lavender and orange blossom.

Despite the heat, there is an amazing amount of energy in the city, particularly in the evenings. The sunlight stretches past 10 p.m., and the city comes alive when the sidewalks cool. The piazze and strade are alive with outdoor diners, revelers and families doing their evening passegiata (stroll). Lines of people spill out of the gelato shops with anxious customers taking their last dose of la dolce vita to end the day. I find myself participating gladly in this habit and continue to pound down more gelato with increased intensity relative to the escalating temperatures. Don’t judge. Everyone has to find their way of coping with the heat.

The European nights are extended events beyond anything I experienced in the United States. There is a frenetic energy to summer evenings, and people seem less concerned about waking up in the morning for work and more concerned with enjoying the social aspects of life. I don’t get the sense anyone is rushing home to binge watch the final season of Game of Thrones or have their worst political nightmares reinforced with a gut-wrenching episode of A Handmaid’s Tale.

The days stretch into midnight quite easily, and you find yourself wondering how your biological clock can keep up with the cultural clock of Italy and the pace of lifestyle. There are nights when I think, “I’m sure I’ll be in bed by 10:00 tonight with a nice book and eight hours of sleep to look forward to when I get there.” Those thoughts are always followed by, “Oh my God what time is it? There’s another round of digestivi being poured. Should I really be having a grappa and caffè after dinner? It’s midnight, and I still have to walk home!” Summer is the time to be out and about with friends and family sucking every last minute of warmth and light until autumn returns and winter weather creeps into the forecast.

My life in Southern California was insulated from planning around weather or seasons. We certainly never worried about drastic changes with rain and snow. If you listened to the weather forecast, it was always “sunny and 78 degrees.” When the temperature escalated, we had air conditioning and outside misting systems to keep us cool. When temperatures dipped, we gathered around our backyard firepit with friends and celebrated the brisk night with cocktails and snacks. I’m not sure I fully appreciated all of the climate flexibility, and as far as air conditioning, don’t even go there.

Of all the cultural lessons I have encountered so far in Europe, two stand out as definite highlights for the summer; never assume dinner will start before 9:00 pm or finish by 11:30, and secondly, do not even try to justify the benefits of extended use of air conditioning to Europeans. There is an immediate reaction that will leave you wondering if you just launched a Molotov cocktail into the crowd. The looks of disdain as you dig yourself deeper into the abyss of useless justification will only leave you permanently scarred and forever labeled as “the Americano with the terribly unhealthy addiction to A/C.” Air conditioning is a necessary evil here, typically used to “refresh” the room a bit on the most stifling days. Leaving it on to pump out a frosty breeze while you sleep will likely lead to long-term respiratory afflictions and unhealthy temperature shifts for your body, or so they say.

What saves me from the daily pace and the warm afternoon temperatures is the mid-day “pisolino.” It is an event that happens like clockwork after the lunch hour. Shops and restaurants close, the intensity of the heat is buffeted by shuttered windows and dim lights, and many Italiani take a well-deserved nap. It’s a wonderfully healthy habit that allows you to recharge from the morning activities, prepare for the long evening ahead and slap on another layer of lavender-orange blossom deodorant to power through the summer heat.

So in the interests of preventing imminent death from writing in the heat of the afternoon, I’m going to take a pisolino now. Buon pomeriggio, tutti!

Thank you for following and sharing The Spaghetti Diaries. You can enter your email and receive updates when I post. Because of your interest and sharing, I now have readers in 42 countries representing six continents. Welcome Nigeria, Romania, South Korea and the Cayman Islands! That is a great way to start melting into my first summer in Italy. Thanks for all of your support. I hope to have a positive impact on the world by sharing my story on reinvention and self-discovery in Italia.