Finally, spring is starting to reveal its bright, happy self in New York. Women are donning flats, a wee rebellion against the tattered boots they wore all winter, while the longer days tease us with dreams of alfresco dining. But as someone who would choose parka-like weather over assaulting humidity any day, even I’ve had enough of these winter temps.
This impatience is compounded because I’ve just returned from a week in (so very hot) Cartagena, where there was no point in putting on makeup since it would slide off your face within four minutes of walking outdoors and my ankles swelled like a pregnant gal’s. While that brutal heat normally leaves me cranky and longing for a fainting couch, this time around I embraced it.
Unlike my other vacations, which normally prompt me out of bed early to begin a full day of sightseeing and plentiful eating that doesn’t have me back at the hotel until 14 hours later, in Colombia the weather forced me to do like the locals do and siesta. After an arepa and lulo juice-fueled afternoon, back to the hotel I would go and either sit by the pool and read in the shade, or catnap amid fierce air conditioning.
I am ready for tank tops, warming sunshine, and bouquets of fresh daffodils in the living room. I can’t wait to burn my coat in a few weeks.