How hot was it?

It was sooooooo hot, that . . .

45 degrees today: bam! For those of you without a concept for this, 45 above means that stuff actually heats up, in or out of the sun, to the point that it becomes uncomfortable to hold. Case in to-the-point: cell phones (or mobiles, as we continentals call them). You stand outside IN THE SHADE, and the thing gets warmer and warmer in your hand.

Now, we realize there's a very simple principle of thermodynamics at work here--the phone contains metallic components, and it does not have an in-built cooling system--but knowing about it and experiencing it live are entirely different matters. Poolside is like being in an oven with the light on. Cancer on a stick. Hyperthermia served hot and spicy.

We look forward to Italy, and having things cool down to 40 degrees in July.

So what will August bring, you ask? Over 50, latest prediction. We are oh so glad we are not construction slaves. And we will make a practice this summer of carrying around boxes of water to hand out at roadside sites.

Christopher's piano is here, full bore. We'll give him a week and then record something so grandmas can be proud.


Finally, had a visit this week from a smashing fellow on an internship in Dubai. He's in BYU's Middle East Studies program, and spent a day with me on campus making contacts here. Very helpful, and I think we now have the will to move on it for next year.

While he was here, we took him up Jebel Hafeet, and were summarily swarmed by some smiling Omanis. Not because he was there, but he was, and they engaged, and he trotted out the ol' Arabic and impressed them. Mobile numbers were exchanged, and a gift was made of a cassette (yes, cassette, even though they have cds here) of some funkadelic Omani tunes. Sweet.

Pics (including, in the last frame, our friend Ahmad, which is pronounced Ah-h-mahd)--guess which one's the white guy:











A lady came up to Wendy's window (she'd stayed in Merv to keep out of the heat) and engaged her in what she deluded herself was English, but actually included three English words and some very excitable Arabic. Eventually, Wendy just started nodding in assent and saying "Oh, really?" We're learning Arabic this year. Halas! Anyway, couldn't get a picture of her because she was wearing a Groucho Marx and it would have been offensive if I'd asked.

They followed us part-way down the mountain, actually: like they wanted to show off their insane switchback drag-racing skeelz. Anyway, we ducked in to see the Mercure Hotel near the summit, and veered right to catch another view (closed, as it turned out). They followed us in and then bailed. Maybe they thought we were frightened. Maybe they just wanted their tape back.


One day, when we leave here permanently, we'll blog about our codes for the various getups, illustrated appropriately. But here's a taste: Groucho Marx, Skater Chic, Ichabod Crane, Ninja-sahn, Prom Night, Mumpsies. Them'll be good times. Stay tuned.