It is only 33°c but it is hot and humid. Sweat literally runs down like multiple rivulets. Stillness all around; even the toads have stopped croaking. Winter in Australia should start in May/June and PNG cools down a bit, if I am lucky. It has become a routine that wherever I go in the summer, Home enjoys a cool summer and either I get roasted roast or get steamed in Iran or Port Moresby.I maroed the pedastal fan from the office to supplement my 24" ceiling fan in my room.
The hospital in Port Moresby seems to be a modern one with airconditioning all through the wards and departments. The Professors are Gods and there is so much of wailing when someone dies; reminds me of Madras Medical College during med-school days.
I spend the evenings watching TV serials of British origin with English sub-titles, drinking white wine while sweating like a “pig”. The past week I have been eating out a lot and hence have to do exercises even on a Sunday, lest I become one real one. The restaurants over here belong to the old colonial-Australian style and are so familiar. Italian, Japanese, Indian-continental-Thai-Indonesian, and even Indian. The ambience is on par with those in Europe; the Australian wines compliment their cuisines.