While wandering aimlessly through the internet I found this wonderful article entitled ‘We long for sunshine but we’re still happiest in the rain’ where the author hypothesizes that the Irish only like the idea of sunshine but not the real thing. I couldn’t agree more.
I must admit that I am more of a winter girl anyway but upon moving to Germany I was looking forward to experiencing real seasons, especially summer. It has been many, many years since I can remember a proper summer in Ireland, being able to buy a summer wardrobe, and most importantly, being able to wear these clothes more than once.
The summer in Berlin has been very pleasant so far with most days presenting a temperature no less than twenty and the rain clouds having the decency to relieve themselves when I am tucked up nice and cosy in bed.
Still, I longed for more. These bearable temperatures were not enough and I couldn’t wait for last weekend to arrive and bring with it the best weather of the summer – thirty-five degrees.
Off to the beach I headed, or at least one of the fake beaches readily available in Berlin. Never more so than I did that day, did I realise that Irish people are only made for the rain.
Upon arrival on the beach I headed immediately for the best shaded spot. I reckoned it was still warm enough to tan here and I set about getting myself into a comfortable position. I tossed and turned so many times I may as well have been at a Zumba class.
What could I do instead? Eat? Too warm. Read? no, the sun was catching my eyes. Converse? Nope, too tired following my escapades of the previous night. By the time I finished pondering what it was I was going to do, I realised I was not sitting right in the middle of the sunshine. My knight in shining armour, the shade, had deserted me.
After another period of indecisiveness, I concluded that it was time to cool down in the water. The sand was incredibly hot which prompted many ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from me as it burned my feet. The water was actually a nice temperature a fact that I was probably disappointed in because I couldn’t moan about it. Never fear though, plenty more to complain about when you can’t swim, will only go into the water up to your knees, are afraid of being splashed and hate not knowing what you are walking on. Back to the towel with me.
I lasted an entire five hours on the beach that day. Possibly a personal record. I had to leave because the heat was making my feel queasy (sigh).
An entire week later and I am still complaining because my skin coloured in various patched of brown and red and I really miss my pale, even skin.
So to all those back home who were extremely jealous that I could go to the beach and they couldn’t. Don’t be, I hated every minute of it. Irish people are not made for such atrocious conditions!
Joyful Antidotes 