As incredible as it may sound, Germany can turn into an oven too.
For years, people tell you that it is cold here, that winters are long, that the sun barely shows up, and that you should make the most of it the way you would make the most of an unexpected visit from family. But this summer, the heat stopped being a cute little anecdote and became something closer to biblical punishment with a fan.
In some parts of the country, temperatures were expected to reach or even exceed 40 degrees Celsius. Yes, 40 degrees in Germany. The same country where people buy jackets in August because they never know when the weather will decide to humiliate them.
And the problem is not just the heat.
The problem is that many German homes were designed to survive winter, not a June afternoon when you feel like you are living inside a baked potato.
I Saw It Coming
Whenever my mother helped me pack, she never held back on coats, scarves, or thick socks.
“It’s for the winter, son,” she would say, putting another wool garment into my suitcase as if she were preparing her child for an expedition to the North Pole.
And she was right.
My first winter in Germany was one of those that still gives me chills when I remember it. Not because it was especially dramatic, but because you discover that European cold does not ask whether you are ready. It gets in through your shoes, settles in your hands, and turns a simple walk to the supermarket into a survival mission.
I also remember my first summer.
It was almost like a slightly warmer Latin American spring. There were pleasant days to jump into the lake, play football in the park, drink beer with friends, and end the afternoon with a barbecue, carrying that innocent happiness of someone who thinks Germany only knows how to be cool and orderly.
It was hot, yes.
But not the kind of heat that wakes you up in the middle of the night because your room has turned into a sauna. Not the kind that makes opening the windows useless, because outside feels like someone left a giant hairdryer running.
Sometimes I remember those documentaries I watched as a child, with polar bears standing on pieces of ice and a deep voice warning that the climate could change.
I do not know whether this is exactly what they were talking about.
But here we are, in Germany, with the blinds down, fans sold out in stores, and more than one person missing the cold they complained about so much.
My Survival Kit
To many Germans, I must be one of the Latinos who least fits the tropical stereotype.
The sun and I do not get along very well.
If it were not for the fact that I love garlic and wear colourful clothes, I would probably fit in better as a vampire than as a Peruvian. Not one from Twilight, of course. More like Count von Count from Sesame Street. But that is another story.
Since childhood, I have had a long battle with the sun. I was always looking for shade and, over the years, I developed small survival protocols for days that were simply too hot.
For starters, I carry two small fans in my backpack. One is handheld, and the other hangs around my neck. It may seem excessive, but you never know when the train, the office, or a German waiting room will turn into an improvised sauna.
To deal with the heat, I copied something I saw many Japanese people doing. They wear a damp towel around their neck. If you have to walk a lot or do physical work, it helps quite a bit. You just need to wet it again from time to time, because otherwise you end up wearing a sad, warm scarf.
Now, if your problem is that you sweat so much your T-shirts start telling their own story, I chose to carry a light handkerchief.
Everything goes into the handkerchief.
Sweat from the neck, the forehead, that awkward moment before greeting someone. And when it stays a little damp and cool, it helps lower your temperature. On top of that, it makes you look like an intellectual thinking about something important, when in reality you are just calculating how long until you get home and take your clothes off.
And for the smell, I recently discovered alum stone.
It does not stop you from sweating because it is not an antiperspirant, but it helps a lot with body odour. It is small, lasts a long time, and looks like a magical stone someone would sell at a medieval fair. It does not perform miracles, but on hot days it can mean the difference between arriving at a meeting with dignity or asking everyone to keep a safe distance.
Wet Dreams
One of the worst problems with this heat is not walking, working, or pretending you still have some dignity on the train.
It is sleeping.
During a trip through the Amazon, I stayed in a modest but lovely place without air conditioning. During the day, I survived by taking showers every two hours, as if my body needed to reboot constantly.
But nighttime was a different story.
The fan made so much noise it sounded like a helicopter was landing in the room. The problem was that, besides being loud, it was almost useless. It only pushed the same hot air from one side to the other, with great enthusiasm and very little result.
Until I discovered a little trick.
I sprayed a bit of water onto the sheets. Not enough to turn the bed into a public swimming pool, of course, just enough to keep them cool. And finally, I could sleep.
I have friends who put their clothes in the fridge before going to bed. Others place a frozen bottle of water behind the fan, trying to build an air conditioner on a student budget.
Everyone finds their own agreement with summer.
That said, be careful about sleeping all night with the fan pointed directly at your face. It may not give you the flu, but you can wake up with a dry throat, a stiff neck, and the feeling that your body no longer wants to cooperate with you.
Conclusion
This early summer caught us all off guard.
Extreme heat is no longer just an excuse to complain at work or look nostalgically at Christmas photos. It also brings damage, discomfort, and that strange feeling that Germany decided, for a few days, to find out what it is like to live inside a pot.
I hope some of these tricks help you survive a little better. And if not, I at least hope I managed to steal a smile from you while you fight with your fan.
I am writing this while it is 28 degrees outside and 30 inside my apartment.
I do not know exactly what I did wrong.
Maybe I should have closed the blinds earlier. Maybe I should have bought an air conditioner. Maybe I should never have turned on the computer.
Anyway, it seems that writing also raises the temperature in the room.
