A Season in Hell – Part I

Recounting my summer escape to Greece, and why I'll probably never spend another summer in southern Europe

It’s October now, and in Istanbul, the fall has arrived. It was all very sudden. A few days ago, it was still summer, and I was wearing the same sundresses and sandals I wore in 99% humidity and 34 C (93 F) heat in Hanoi. Then the weather turned, and now Istanbul is getting gray around the edges, the Bosphorus is growing hazy, and the city is starting to resemble the setting of an Orhan Pamuk novel. I for one welcome the cooling weather, as much of the time I spent between leaving Istanbul in late June and my return last week was consumed with attempting to navigate Europe’s hellish deluge of summer tourists and apocalyptic heat. It was so bad that by the end of August, I’d promised myself that I’d never spend another summer in the southern half of Europe. I wrote a short piece for the Liberties website about the increasingly unlivable Balkans that touches on this; it includes my complaints about this summer’s record-breaking temperatures. But I actually wrote it before I’d made my way through Greece, North Macedonia, Kosovo and Serbia, mostly via bus. After spending July and August doing this, I now know for sure: I love the Balkans and always will, but have outgrown summers there, forever.