Singin’ the Northern China Cold Weather Blues

I guess it takes cold weather for life to start imitating art. When you walk outside your nose (the only uncovered part of your body) becomes uncomfortably cold. You nostrils freeze together when you snuffle or snort, and there’s no place to spit anyway since everyone else’s nasty expectorate is frozen on the sidewalk. The cold weather manages to make going outside miserable and gross, all at the same time.

Now, I knew about Changchun’s cold weather before I came. I actually claimed to look forward to “having the experience of living in cold weather.” Saying you look forward to something potentially miserable for “the experience” is one of those things you only do when you have no idea that one day you’ll walk out the door of your apartment, reach up to muss your damp hair and realize that it has frozen and is breaking in your hand.

I’m not a cold weather person. The heat in Mexico suited me fine–I played soccer in temperatures over 100º without complaint. One of the biggest factors in applying to Claremont McKenna was LA’s warm weather. At times Los Angeles felt a bit nippy, but I suffered it with a stiff upper lip.

I accidentally irritate the hell out of people in the summer by gushing about how much hotter tomorrow will be. Had I wandered with Moses I probably would have driven everyone else nuts worrying about whether the Promised Land would be as warm as the desert.

At college in [tag]Ellensburg[/tag] the first hint of cold weather shocked me so badly that I moved from my penthouse suite (“attic room”, some called it) to the basement of my boarding house so I could have a bed close to the furnace. Walking around on campus, I noticed that I usually was the first (and often only) one to wear gloves or a hat when the weather turned cold. People in shorts and sandals would jog past me while I was determinedly slogging to class in a parka.

The difference between the cold weather here in Changchun and the cold weather in Ellensburg is that here is actually cold. What I thought was terrible in the dead of winter in Ellensburg is now what seems a balmy day.
I never have to worry about being the most-dressed person on the street; in Changchun everyone else is just as bundled up as I am. On a typical day I wear thick socks, long underwear, an undershirt, and a sweater. If I’m outside I also pack on a vest, a double-layered parka, a scarf, gloves, and my hat.

My hat has an uncanny ability to elicit shocked looks and laughter from people on the street. It’s a standard Wapiti Woolies knit ski cap, so I was surprised it would draw a crowd. I look like a very distinguished gentleman when I wear the thing, so I was at a loss as to why it should attract so much attention.

Finally my students explained that because the cap has ear flaps, it looks like a woman’s hat. Or, as they like to say, “It looks very lovely. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Even with my lovely-ear-flap hat I’m still better off than my American friend Charles, who was told by his students (after several weeks of giggling) that he should stop wearing his green stocking cap because green hats are only worn by men with philandering wives.

The cold weather may be indescribably uncomfortable, but it’s tolerable since I have the various ice festivals to look forward to…but only after it gets even colder. I’ve also been told that there’s winter swimming in Nanhu. It’s supposed to cure diseases, so if I can only have my nose go swimming maybe I’ll try it.