The weather here is hotter than when I first arrived. Sometimes I sweat what seems buckets when I’m teaching in a classroom with two small fans on the ceiling. However, when I look around it seems that not many people here sweat much in a normal day, unless they’re exercising. I’ve been thinking about a passage from On the Road, by Jack Kerouac, when it talks about sweat on the natives in Mexico. I finally looked it up:

“‘Notice the beads of sweat on her brow,’ Dean pointed out with a grimace of pain. ‘It’s not the kind of sweat we have, it’s oily and always there because it’s always hot the year round and she knows nothing of non-sweat, she was born with sweat and she dies with sweat.'”


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