Thoughts From An Icebox

I hate being cold. I spent about 10 minutes thinking of a witty way to open this up, and decided that nothing could convey the depth and sincerity of my hatred of inadequate warmth. It’s almost primal in its simplicity. There is no room for equivocation, there is no rationalization or “finding the silver lining.” I hate the cold like the cavemen hated the T-Rex. It is a simple emotion, but very, very fervent.

It’s not that Chongqing is so very cold, but that it is completely cold. There are many places much colder than here, but I think that most of those places either have heaters, or a distinct lack of life. Nothing is heated here, and so I spend my days bundled up in long underwear, sweatshirts, beanie, gloves, and three inches of down jacket. My night wardrobe consists of a long sleeve top, thick knit socks, and pants that inhabit the dubious region between sweatpants and long underwear. This, in combination with an electric heating pad, two hot water bottles, and five inches of assorted blankets serves to keep me warm enough through the night. Even still, I still wake up every morning to the sight of my breath hanging a few inches from my face like a tiny Charlie Brown cloud. I was watching a movie in my living room, huddled around my space heater, and realized that, as I exhaled, my breath would catch the light from the television and do funny things to it. While mildly amusing, the living room is no place to see one’s own breath.

I am probably less suited to the cold than most, and so my reaction has been slightly more extreme than my other counterparts. The one driving factor in my day is now to find some place of warmth. The only places that I have found heating is in the two tea houses that I have found. Bebei has been regrettably lacking in the tea house department. But these have heat, and so I can buy a glass of tea for 10 yuan (roughly $1.25, or one-and-a-half meals) and sit for a few hours in blessed warmth. Another highlight is the Chinese class that I had previously been skipping (too easy, and other things were more fun). Strangely enough, when I realized that there was free heating in the classroom, my interest in studying rudimentary Chinese grew exponentially.

The remarkable thing, though, is that I rarely hear complaints. This is not (as I might be apt to refer to it), an atrocity against humanity, but just the way things are. Rather than curse the cold, they bundle up, because there isn’t much else that can be done. That may be one of the biggest differences here. Things tend to be accepted rather than evaluated, whether due to cultural conditioning or lack of outside experience, I’m not sure. Probably a combination.

More on that later, because now it’s time to put tomorrow’s clothes under the blanket (one of my better ideas) and fire up the hot water bottle. Man, do I hate the cold.