A brief update for those concerned about my Canadian winter: it’s cold, but it’s no problem. Between severe cold and sweltering heat, I prefer Siberia over Samoa.
Yesterday morning, I walked for two hours in minus 26 degrees Celsius. That’s minus 15 in Fahrenheit, and that scale isn’t even supposed to go into negative territory ever.
But wearing three pairs of pants, five layers on top, the good gloves thankfully left by the homeowners, and a scarf given to me by an apparently rather traditional woman who thinks that my face should be veiled at all times, it actually didn’t feel that cold. Except that my eyelashes were frozen and I had to keep closing my eyes to melt the ice.
Cycling is also still perfectly possible, and the bikes have been equipped with extra gloves attached to the handlebars.
The interesting thing about such temperatures is how quickly one gets used to them. Now, when it’s only minus 10, I feel like in spring and almost forget to wear a jacket. And when the sun comes out, as it often does to make this winter even more beautiful, I sit outside with a book. Not for a long time though, admittedly.
And every night, there is yet more snow. Inches and feet of it every night.
The City of Calgary has organized a snow-shoveling competition to make the civic duty appear more fun.
These guys may be fast and fierce and competitive, but when it comes to quantity, nobody can beat me. I have been shoveling snow three times a day on some days, and it has been piling up so high that it blocks part of the road already.
I have been to countries where their highest mountains are less impressive.