Get ready for the long, steamy road ahead

Most gringos flee Mazatlán before the weather becomes what some would call oppressive. The rest of us face the coming summer with a determinedly casual mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The anticipation comes from the thought of not having to wear so damn many clothes, the ocean being a comfortable temperature for swimming, and finally being able to contrive a rational excuse for lots of palapa-time. The trepidation is from wondering just how hot it will actually get this year.

During the dog days of summer, even the dogs are relentlessly hounded by the heat and humidity as the days run together in a sweaty continuum of time. It will be upon us before we know it. Like the frog in the gradually heating kettle, by the time we realize our fate, we’ll be hopelessly and helplessly drenched in sweat. My first summer here, I left a visible trail of heat-induced body fluids wherever I went. By mid-August I had contemplated seeking medical attention for my obviously malfunctioning sweat glands. I had no idea the human body could produce moisture in so many obscure places.

The summer humidity can be a tolerable 75% or shoot up to an imperious 95% just before the sky opens and Mother Nature unleashes one of her glorious tropical thunderstorms. These monsoon-type storms build huge thunderheads over the mountains throughout the day, and then descend on Mazatlán and unleash their fury late in the afternoon or at night. The lightning spawned by these storms is spectacular and can stretch across 120 degrees of horizon with the accompanying thunderclaps lasting 15-20 seconds. As the storms move into town, the increasingly strong reverberations from the mighty peals of thunder invariably set off every car alarm for miles. In a big storm, the cacophony of car alarms and thunder that accompany the brilliant lightning strikes is truly deafening. One huge bolt from above is enough to spawn an electronic wailing that is ear splitting at street level. You would think people would turn off their alarm systems for the duration of the storm, not simply reset them for the next thunderclap. However, this is Mazatlán, where simple solutions for excessive noise are lost in the cultural shuffle.

Given the ferocity of the electrical storms here, I’m quite surprised the power grid rarely goes down. I’m very impressed with the durability of the electrical grid in this city - my lights have seldom even flickered during the severest of storms. The reliability of the system is no doubt related to the number and type of safety components built into the grid. It appears that parts of the electrical distribution system are so tough, they can take a direct HIT and simply distribute the catastrophic spike to the closest 100 houses.

It’s in the summer season that many Mexican tourists choose to visit the “Pearl of the Pacific,” and plush Mexican tour buses clutter the streets between Olas Altas and the Gold Zone. Last summer I watched a middle-aged man and woman cross the beach and tentatively approach the ocean. Their body language told me this was the first time either of them had actually seen this vast body of water … ever. After several awestruck moments on the dry sand they sat down and slowly began removing their shoes. Then they stood, carefully emptied their pockets onto a handkerchief and deliberately walked into the warm surf. When they were in knee-deep water, they both sat down and allowed the spent waves to sluice them about - fully clothed in the manner of a conservative, middle-class Mexican couple. They splashed in the shallow water with the reckless abandon of children, oblivious to all but the balmy waters of the mighty Pacific lapping at them and their layers of clothing. My guess is the ocean would most certainly be the apex of their visit to Mazatlán.

There are a few basic requirements for surviving the sweltering summer weather here; the first is to have at least one air-conditioned room in your residence. Even the hardcore ex-pats that endure their waking hours in the ambient temperatures have at least one such sanctuary in their home. For Mexicans that can afford it, most choose to pass their nights in air-conditioned comfort too. Even in my impoverished neighborhood, a fair number of window and wall units labor away through July, August and September. The one across the alley from me sounds like a distant military skirmish, but miraculously continues to run throughout the summer. If you’re not accustomed to the tropical summer, being outside between the hours of 10 and 6 is ill-advised and requires shade and plenty of fluids.

When you tough it out in Mazatlán for the summer, the amount of time spent slouched at beachfront cantinas or immersed in the ocean is inversely proportional to the amount of air-conditioned space at your disposal. As for me, you must know by now I prefer to use the summer season as legitimate justification for as much beach time and cold cerveza as can be physically endured.