荷兰夏日旅行：酷暑生存指南与荷兰文化
The other night at dinner, I asked our friends if the restaurant had air conditioning inside. They said, “Yes, I think so,” and then… nothing. No follow-up. No, “Would you like to sit there instead?” Just a polite pause, as if the question had been answered and we could all move on. And that was that. We sat outside in the heatwave, while the inside air-conditioned part remained completely empty.
We are visiting my husband’s family and friends, which in the Netherlands means a gentle marathon of coffee, cookies, and visits between houses, all while pretending not to notice that the country is having what the news calls a “heatwave” and what I would call “the inside of a parked car.”
There is no air conditioning in most homes. Not because they forgot to install it, but because no one needs it for the other 362 days of the year. This is, after all, a place where nearly 20 percent of women give birth at home. Not as a statement, not because of anything medical, but as if childbirth were simply a natural human condition, like sneezing.
The Dutch approach to a heatwave is practical and quietly inventive. Keep the curtains drawn in the afternoon. Eat ice cream like it is a moral obligation. Keep a bathtub full of cold water so you can take a 1 a.m. soak, then go back to bed slightly damp, somehow content, and not at all concerned about what this is doing to the sheets. I haven’t tried this yet but I’ve been thinking about it since I heard it during the last Dutch heatwave I experienced two years ago.
At my mother-in-law’s house, the windows are open all day, catching every possible breeze. But at night she seals her bedroom completely to keep out the possibility of a mosquito, door shut and windows closed, and sleeps in what can only be described as a self-made sauna. I do not understand it, but I respect it. And she always wakes up cheerful.
Afternoons are for the pool, the sea, a pond, any water source where kids cannonball for hours. Dinner starts late because the kids do not go to bed until ten, when the air finally cools down and the light turns soft. Everyone is hot, but no one complains. The sun lingers, people linger, and the whole thing somehow feels gezellig.
It is not my first time without AC. I once survived a Paris summer by sleeping under a wet dish towel, but it is the first time I have actually enjoyed it.
By the time the steaks arrived at a restaurant called Gauchos, my light-as-air cotton and silk eyelet dress was fused to my body, and the heat had stopped feeling like something to fight. We sat there for hours, talking and laughing, in no rush at all. The air softened, I stopped checking the temperature on my phone, and I realized that in the Netherlands, even a heatwave can be charming. It forces you to slow down, keep it simple, and let the evening stretch.
