The city has issued a cold weather alert today, so I opted for the subway instead of my usual mode of transport, which is walking.As I was making my way to the subway station, I met a guy.
"Excuse me," he said. "How cold do you think it is?"
"Well," I said, "the news is reporting -30 with the wind chill."
He looked horrified.
"You're not from around here," I ventured.
"Just arrived from South Africa two weeks ago," he said. "It's summer there."
So I did the Canadian thing and apologized...this time for the weather.
And I gave him a little primer about what to do in the cold (layer, stay inside with cups of cocoa and good books) and what not to do (polar bear swims, stick your tongue on a slide).
I also gave him the three minute Canadian Literature synopsis, that begins with Susannah Moodie's "Roughing it in the Bush" and briefly mentions Roch Carriere's "The Hockey Sweater."
Canadian identity is rooted in the weather, I explained. If you don't believe me, just read Margaret Atwood.
All in all, we managed to make it to the subway station without half noticing how cold it was.
"Do you think it's cold?" he asked as we bade farewell on the subway platform.
"Not so much," I said. "Where I come from, it's actually colder than this."
I'm pretty sure I could see him shiver.
2 comments:
Was he on a 2-year work visa, as well? I don't understand people who leave the southern hemisphere in summer and come north. Maybe we should hook him up with the Aussie and they can shiver and look at Squirrels through frosted windows together.
WV = prict = he prict the snot from his nose so he could breathe again.
My boss is a prict.
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