Warsaw Has Declared War on Air Conditioning

There is a point in every Warsaw summer when the city stops feeling warm and starts feeling personally offended.

The pavement throws heat back at you. The tram stop offers shade in theory. The air waits between buildings like it has nowhere better to go. Even the pigeons look demotivated.

And yet—and this is the irritating part—the city becomes beautiful in it. People slow down a little. Terraces fill up. Somebody is always carrying flowers. Somebody else is carrying three litres of water and the expression of a defeated project manager.

I complain about the weather in Warsaw because I live here, which is how affection works in this part of Europe. If I did not care, I would not waste the energy complaining properly.

Still, today was not weather. Today was a targeted action.