Weather

Since yesterday was the first warm day that we've had for a while here in Santiago, I feel compelled to reminisce on the coldest winter of my life.

Yes, I'm from New Orleans. Yes, it's really hot down (or up?) there. But it gets cold there, too. And I also spent a very cold winter in Dortmund, Germany about three years ago, with satisfactory results. The difference? Indoor heating.

I remember getting excited as a child when it was so cold that I could see my own breath in the frigid, outdoor air. Little did I know that a day would come when this phenomenon would actually occur indoors, as in inside of my heating-free, Santiago apartment in the year 2008.

But just for the sake of irony, let's have a look at what happens during this time of year in my hometown. June, July and August in New Orleans bring a series of summer-related hazards. The extreme heat and humidity will cause your sunglasses to fog up immediately upon leaving your house. By the time you make it to your car, your face, underarms, and backs of your knees are already covered in a thin film of sweat. You blast the air conditioner, hovering your arms above the dashboard in a Superman-like pose while aiming the vents directly at your pits. With a bit of luck, you arrive at your destination without ALL of your makeup melting off or evaporating.

So while this was occurring north of the equator, I was beginning to question those in the know, both Chileans and gringos, on their preferred methods of keeping warm. I took action by making the following purchases:

1) Long wool socks with fun Andean designs on them. These can also double as an economic souvenir for family and friends (unused, of course.) Effective.

2) A guatero, which can be loosely translated to "rubber bottle designed to contain hot water." If there's an English word for this, I wouldn't know. I've never gone camping in cold climates and hopefully never will. Anyway, one takes this into bed with them at night to keep warm. Only somewhat effective and evokes feelings of desperation, seeing as how you can't wrap your entire body around a foot-long rubber container...but you sure as hell can try! However, I find a guatero con uñas to be much more effective...heh heh heh...

3) A down comforter. The polyester comforter, wool blanket and sheets, combined with three layers of clothing, were not enough. Very effective, yet makes getting out of bed in the morning even more tortuous.

I combined these purchases with a series of improvised methods, such as taking my clothes into the bathroom with me during my morning shower so that I could dress amongst the warmth of the steam instead of venturing into the cold depths of the departamento in nothing more than a towel and wet hair.

Eventually the roommates and I caved in and sprang for 4) a kerosene heater. But even then, it was a bitch trying to find the damned parafina. One day E. and I ventured out to get some. One gas station didn't sell it at all, and the second and third were out. The fourth one did have it, thank goodness...but good thing it was before 9 p.m.! Otherwise you're shit out of luck, thanks to a seemingly ineffective method to prevent huffing of said parafina.

I admit my interpretation is a bit exaggerated. But the truth is that it's a good feeling to know that you can survive and thrive outside of your comfort zone. In NOLA, I would crank up the heat with the touch of a digital button at the first hint of a chill. Here my only recourse was layers, and more layers, of clothing. But the experience has made me more mindful of my attitude towards energy: how much I used in the U.S., how much I use here, and how much use is actually necessary.

That's all for now, and here's to hoping the coldest of winter is behind us already.