What’s One More Heat Wave to Those Determined to Have Fun?

As the sun began to flare Saturday in Boyle Heights and the morning shadows retreated from the sidewalk in front of the Santa Cecilia restaurant, Mariachi Plaza became unbearable for Chrisanto Medina. His leather boots and polyester-lined black wool pants left him sweltering. The line of steel eagle emblems that adorned his legs seared in the sunlight.

By 11 a.m. he ran for the cover of a tree along Boyle Avenue, where he met his band and spent the morning talking, singing and dreaming of those cool afternoon thundershowers that roll over the mountains of his native Michoacan, Mexico.

“We are burning right now,” he said. “It’s very hot.”

It was indeed. Temperatures crossed the century mark in downtown Los Angeles and soared above 110 in the valleys. A record of 113 degrees was set in Chatsworth, while the Civic Center posted a high of 101, just one point shy of the record. Long Beach came in at 103, Pasadena at 106. Hundreds of thousands headed to the beaches, and hard-chugging air conditioners strained regional power systems.

Even worse, meteorologists said there wasn’t a cooling Michoacan-style thunderstorm in sight. A high-pressure ridge parked over Arizona is the hot-weather culprit, and experts said it was likely to keep the Southland in a sizzling pressure-cooker for at least a week.

But around Mariachi Plaza, indeed across all of metropolitan Los Angeles, people ignored the heat as best they could and headed outdoors to savor one of summer’s final weekends. After surviving other heat waves, many Southlanders seemed to think Saturday wasn’t all that bad.

“It all depends on where you are and what you’re doing,” said Harlon Brown. “If you’re stuck in traffic on the 405 and driving an ’82 Datsun, then yeah, the heat’s pretty awful.”

But Brown wasn’t on the 405, he was at the Los Angeles African Marketplace and Cultural Faire near Crenshaw. Equipped with water, a hat and “some decent company,” Brown planned to peruse the clothes, art and incense stands until the sun set “even if it reaches 110.”

Al Abrams was selling cold water for bargain prices just outside the fair.

“If it’s hot, I sell water. If it’s raining, I sell umbrellas,” Abrams said. “No matter what the weather is, there’s always something to sell.”

In La Canada Flintridge, temperatures reached 105 degrees. There, savvy relief-seekers headed for the towering oaks and cool ferns of Descanso Gardens, which offered a welcome psychological respite from the heat.

With socks off and feet dangling in a creek, Laura Austin congratulated herself on picking the perfect locale.

“I decided there was no way I was going to stay inside watching TV just because it was a little warm outside,” the Glendale resident said. “And this is the ideal place to be. I swear it felt 20 degrees cooler when I walked through the gates.”

Adding to the garden’s quiescent glow were the distant sounds of Irish and Scottish folk music. In a cozy grove of redwoods and oaks, fiddlers from the aptly named ensemble Highland Sun tried to bring a bit of northern cool to a small Southland audience.

Although most of the spectators were content to relax and gently tap their feet, Arthur Young and his 4-year-old son demonstrated some surprising energy for such a steamy afternoon. Taking their cue from the sounds of Highland Sun, the pair stepped to the back and danced an impromptu and decidedly unorthodox jig.

“I feel great,” Young said, as beads of sweat rolled off his face and dripped onto a squirming Andrew standing below him. “I can almost feel the cool Scottish fog rolling over me.”

On Whittier Boulevard in Los Angeles, heat didn’t keep people inside either. Old men gathered under the awnings of Texas Donuts to play cards. At the corner of Ford Avenue, a man named Luis sold watermelon, pineapple and mango to sweating passersby desperate for relief.

Politics didn’t slow down for the heat either.

As Luis sold his fare, a couple of dozen people commemorating the historic Chicano protests against the Vietnam War 28 years ago marched by, chanting and wiping their brows on a three-mile trek from Belvedere to Salazar parks. At noon, they joined more than a hundred others in a stuffy, humid auditorium to denounce Propositions 187 and 227.

“It was good exercise,” said Eric Sorenson, 50, his T-shirt drenched under a heavy pair of overalls. “And obviously I could use it.”