For regions shrouded in haze all year round, the sun's presence might be a blessing or a mercy. But for ships sailing along the coast or on the open ocean, the blistering sun that scorches your skin until it peels has become a routine torment and punishment.
Sunlight so brutal it rots the skin, humidity so heavy it makes you want to scratch your crotch off, constant rocking, endless chores, scraping off rust spots, and swearing endlessly.
Air conditioning and beer are privileges reserved for the captain and upper management. The sunburnt sailors can only curse their mothers, sweat pouring off them as they rush around. A couple of drags on a half-smoked cigarette is about all they can hope for.
From the noisy, stuffy cabin to the sun-baked deck like a steamer, they gradually become accustomed to the torment.
