i need to move to a hot country

on sunlight, survival, and why my body wasn’t made for the cold

i think i was meant to live somewhere warm. not just in a wouldn’t it be nice kind of way, but in a my body and mind function differently under the sun kind of way. every winter, i feel it—the slow shutdown, the dull ache of grey skies pressing against my skin, the way my body curls in on itself as if trying to conserve whatever warmth it has left. the cold is a thief. it takes my energy, my joy, my ability to move through the world with ease.

but when i step into the sun? it’s like everything inside me wakes up.

it’s not just in my head. there’s a reason why people in sunnier climates tend to report higher levels of happiness and energy. sunlight triggers the production of serotonin, the hormone responsible for mood stabilisation. exposure to natural light also regulates circadian rhythms, making it easier to wake up in the morning and get restful sleep at night.

but beyond the science, there is something deeply primal about warmth. the body doesn’t have to work as hard to stay comfortable, muscles stay loose instead of tensing against the cold, and movement feels effortless rather than forced. in warmer places, people spend more time outside, interacting with the world instead of retreating from it.

i feel this shift when i travel. in the sun, my body relaxes in ways i didn’t even realise it was holding tension. i sleep better. i eat better. i want to move, to swim, to walk for miles without thinking about it. i am more myself.

winter is unnatural.

human beings were not meant to endure long, dark winters. our ancestors, before artificial lighting and modern heating, followed the natural rhythms of the seasons—slowing down in the cold, conserving energy, hibernating in their own way. but modern life doesn’t allow for that. we are expected to function the same way in january as we do in july, despite the fact that our bodies are literally wired to behave differently depending on the environment.

seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is widely acknowledged but rarely taken seriously. it’s treated as a mild inconvenience, something to be fixed with a sun lamp and some vitamin D supplements. but why are we forcing ourselves to “fix” something that is a completely rational response to a lack of sunlight?

i have spent years trying to push through winter, trying to convince myself that i just need to toughen up, get over it, adapt. but what if the answer isn’t adaptation? what if the answer is leaving?

beyond the physical effects, warm countries tend to have an entirely different relationship with time, work, and life itself. in hotter climates, there is an understanding that the body has limits. siestas exist for a reason—because resting in the middle of the day, when the heat is at its peak, is natural. long, drawn-out meals, socialising outdoors, taking life at a slower pace—these are not signs of laziness, but of adaptation to an environment that encourages rest as much as it does movement.

contrast this with colder countries, particularly western ones, where the grind never stops. where people are expected to work through the darkest months, never acknowledging that their bodies are slowing down for a reason. where productivity is valued over well-being, and rest is treated as a privilege rather than a necessity.

i don’t think it’s a coincidence that some of the happiest and longest-living populations are found in warm places. it’s not just about the food or the culture—it’s about the way warmth itself allows for a different way of living.

so what now?

i don’t know if i will actually pack up my life and move to a hotter country. but i know that every time i stand in the sun, i feel it calling me.

i know that my body feels freer when it isn’t wrapped in layers. i know that my mind feels lighter when the sky isn’t a constant shade of grey. i know that life, for me, feels more real when it is lived outside, under warmth, in air that does not bite but embraces.

why am i still here?

- tat

---