summer breeze.

Etc.

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Summer is here, or at least spring is here, or at least the 6-month block of non-winter weather from April to September has begun. Or, to sum: I'm wearing shorts and everybody in Amsterdam is in a much much better mood all of the sudden, though probably not because of the shorts.

Every year, the transformation of the city at the beginning of April is sudden, dramatic, and somehow always exceeds my expectations. Is it the mythical Hollands licht that's responsible? Could be. Or is it just the regular-ol' sun, finally nudging temperatures over the 60°F/15°C mark, thus allowing me to bare my calves without appearing thoroughly insane (Dutch people still think this is relatively insane, or at least in poor taste, but their scorn is delivered in a generally non-hostile "Oh, look at the silly American" kind of way).

I will readily admit that I am on the bleeding edge of short pant technology adoption. The first day of my own personal shorts-wearing season finds me generally alone in this regard unless I go into the center of town and see a couple of brave/foolish tourists. And yes, sometimes it feels a bit early: it was just Sunday night on the roof of the OT301 that found me shivering a tiny bit after the sun went down.

What I don't understand is why no one else seems to understand my eagerness to dress for summer. Shorts mean sun, sand, terraces, extended vacations, road trips, white beaches, cactus-y deserts, refreshing breezes, azure skies and azure swimming pools, tiki bars, tan lines, late sunsets, crashing waves, all-day barbecues, fancy cocktails with lime and/or mint, ice-cold (or not) six-packs of unfancy beer, scantily-clad womens, coconut-scented suntan lotion, frisbee chasing, pigskin chucking, and 75 other Good Things that signify festivity (a loaded word these days but yes that's what I mean), renewal, and/or relaxation. You cannot blame a brother for trying to make this part of the year last as long as possible.

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