A moderate heat is the worst kind of heat. It tricks you, letting you dry and cool for a brief relief before bringing you back to the inevitable swelter. It is an array of ebbing and flowing unpleasantries. It will lie to you. The constant, humid, tangible, sauna-like heat of the jungle is a different beast. It never pretends you will feel comfort in the form of dry skin, or slow, deep breaths. It is honest and cruel. The sweat will fall from forehead to eye, from nose to ground. You will taste the salt of your body on your lips. It will never cease. But this itself becomes a respite: your expectations are always matched. This is the way of life in the summer heat of Chitwan National Park.