Sweat in the City
Our Hotel QT is quite a funky place. Evidently if we are under 25 we would receive a 25% discount. We are definitely uncool people in a very cool place and we're lucky we don't have to pay a premium, being so far over the age of 25! But what the heck, it has a pool!! That is my focus during our first day walking around Times Square.
Waves of superheated air boil up from the sidewalks. So hot, they take your breath away. Sometimes a heat wave is spiced with the pungent odour of sewer gas. Now that really takes your breath away.
The traffic is a ribbon of yellow as the cabs ply their trade on both sides of the street. There are no busses except for the "hop on, hop off" red double deckers which give tours of Manhattan. These are the best way to see the city especially as the temperature soars into the high 90's and humidity is thick at 87%. Walking is not an option. The tour guides hustle shamelessly for tips and to prevent you sneaking off the bus without leaving something, they escort you down the stairs and wait at the door to say goodbye. It works.
A street hawker hands out pink leaflets and pauses to wipe his brow with one of them. I hope he doesn't hand that one out.
In Harlem you can buy icy cool water from streetside vendors. The bus stops, you throw down $1 and they toss up a bottle. Hans buys two and rolls one across my neck and down my back. The relief is exquisite. "Better stop soon or it'll boil" I say, knowing it's true.
After our tour of upper Manhattan, which takes a couple of hours, we walk a block to our hotel but if you measure the distance in discomfort, it is infinite. I repeat my mantra: "Thank God the hotel has a pool" and the thought is revitalizing. I can't wait to plunge into its cool depths.
As we sink into the pool I am momentarily disappointed. It feels so warm, not at all cool and refreshing, so I order a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc from the glassed-in bar. It separates the pool from the air conditioned lounge and yuppies who drop in after work for a drink. I leave the window open to the bar and a welcome blast of cold air flows over the water. Hans and I pick a corner of the pool and curl up on the benches, water up to our shoulders and frosty glasses in hand.
It's perfect.
And it doesn't take long for the pool to melt the heat from our bodies. Soon, in fact, we're so cold we have to step into the sauna just a few steps up. I can hardly believe I'm in the sauna when a scant hour earlier when I was dying of heat I overheard a woman on a cell saying, "It's still so hot I want to kill myself", and I know exactly what she meant.
Waves of superheated air boil up from the sidewalks. So hot, they take your breath away. Sometimes a heat wave is spiced with the pungent odour of sewer gas. Now that really takes your breath away.
The traffic is a ribbon of yellow as the cabs ply their trade on both sides of the street. There are no busses except for the "hop on, hop off" red double deckers which give tours of Manhattan. These are the best way to see the city especially as the temperature soars into the high 90's and humidity is thick at 87%. Walking is not an option. The tour guides hustle shamelessly for tips and to prevent you sneaking off the bus without leaving something, they escort you down the stairs and wait at the door to say goodbye. It works.
A street hawker hands out pink leaflets and pauses to wipe his brow with one of them. I hope he doesn't hand that one out.
In Harlem you can buy icy cool water from streetside vendors. The bus stops, you throw down $1 and they toss up a bottle. Hans buys two and rolls one across my neck and down my back. The relief is exquisite. "Better stop soon or it'll boil" I say, knowing it's true.
After our tour of upper Manhattan, which takes a couple of hours, we walk a block to our hotel but if you measure the distance in discomfort, it is infinite. I repeat my mantra: "Thank God the hotel has a pool" and the thought is revitalizing. I can't wait to plunge into its cool depths.
As we sink into the pool I am momentarily disappointed. It feels so warm, not at all cool and refreshing, so I order a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc from the glassed-in bar. It separates the pool from the air conditioned lounge and yuppies who drop in after work for a drink. I leave the window open to the bar and a welcome blast of cold air flows over the water. Hans and I pick a corner of the pool and curl up on the benches, water up to our shoulders and frosty glasses in hand.
It's perfect.
And it doesn't take long for the pool to melt the heat from our bodies. Soon, in fact, we're so cold we have to step into the sauna just a few steps up. I can hardly believe I'm in the sauna when a scant hour earlier when I was dying of heat I overheard a woman on a cell saying, "It's still so hot I want to kill myself", and I know exactly what she meant.
Comments