HOT

I've been in the region a month and I'm still trying to deal with, even comprehend, life in what simply must be one of the hottest places on earth.

Here's what it's like:

A can of Coke blew up in the tent I was sleeping in. Nothing unusual about that when it tops 130 degrees every day -- in the shade -- and there's not an air conditioner in sight...

I lucked out and was invited into an air-conditioned office downtown to relax for a few minutes that day. It was the first real air conditioning I'd felt in more than two weeks, and it was glorious for about 10 minutes.

Then I had to get back outside, into the heat. I couldn't stand the cold. I was shivering. The thermometer said it was 78 degrees in the room. A young American soldier returned from a week of emergency leave in Illinois and talked about home, where the temperature was in the upper 80s.

"I had to wear a jacket," she said. "I froze. I couldn't get used to 80- or 90-degree weather there."

Others repeated similar stories.

Good Lord, I thought. My body is actually adjusting to this. My insides expect to be cooked every day.

Soldiers tell stories of dizziness and of passing out face-down into their baked beans in the dining hall.

Medics at one unit report treating a dozen cases of kidney stones a day. It's because of dehydration.