April is the cruellest month

Unlike Pennsylvania, which can have blue skies, snow, hail, and mild showers in the span of twenty minutes, Cambodia has very little variation in the weather from day to day. For example, it’s rained only twice in the past four months or so of dry season.

If you look at a travel guide, you will learn that Cambodia has four seasons:
1. Wet and hot (June to August)
2. Wet and cool (September to November)
3. Dry and cool (November to February)
4. Dry and hot (March to May)

If you talk to an expat who’s been here a while, they will put it differently:
1. Wet and stiflingly hot (June to August)
2. Wet and still decently hot(September to November)
3. Dry and as hot as Pennsylvania in July (November to February)
4. Dry and absurdly hot (March and May)
5. Someone PLEASE send me to a sauna to cool down for a while! (April)

Even before I arrived, I started hearing about April. It brings on a reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder for many, where tempers flare, immune systems are compromised, and work ethics sag. Now it’s upon us. And I’ve noticed already this week: I used to not sweat if I had a fan pointed directly at me, but now, even with it on a higher power, I still find myself perpetually perspiring. A “cold” shower no longer carries with it the momentary shiver that it once did, even late at night. And…the real clincher…even Cambodians think it’s hot, including the seventy-pound ones like Sarah’s teaching assistant, Sinuon.

The interesting thing is that Cambodians don’t necessarily change their dress depending on the weather. At least, not in the way I would expect. In Sinuon’s case, she wears long sleeves in the morning because it’s still “cold” then (mid-80s), and changes into short sleeves at lunch, when it’s at least 92 degrees in the classroom. One Khmer student recently wrote the following journal entry:
“The weather is horrible because it’s very hot. I hate hot weather because it makes my day worse. When it is hot, I can’t stand to do anything because it burns me to death. The word hot is always in my mind because everywhere I go, I feel hot. The heat makes my skin burn and turn black. When I drive my motor back home, it’s very hot even though I have my long-sleeved jacket on, it is still hot.”

In other words, long sleeves are not just an issue of protecting against suntan – Khmer people actually feel that they soften the harshness of the sun’s heat on your skin. I can accept this theory, although I haven’t personally tested it out. The part that gets me is that that some people seem to think, if thin long sleeves help, thick ones must be even better. I see people wearing fur-lined coats on their motos at midday. The guy who fixed Sarah’s moto yesterday (her tire blew out) was dripping sweat in the shade as he worked, but never took off either of the zip-up jackets he was wearing. Often, I get the impression that because it’s always more or less hot here, you just dress in what you like, without regard for the weather forecast or even the season.

I'm almost at that point too. I know I'll sweat through anything I wear, so it doesn't matter whether it's a breezier outfit or a slightly more oppressive one. If I want to wear it at all in the next eight weeks, today is as good a day as any, even if it IS in the 90s. That doesn't apply to my cardigan and jeans, though - I'm saving them for summer in Pennsylvania, which in Cambodian terms is known as "bitingly cold season."