A few days ago I returned from my first "real" winter experience in Norway. "Real" to distinguish it from my first snowfall which I caught last November while walking from the shuttle to an airplane about to take off from Budapest, where I stood on the airplane runway trying to catch snowflakes on my face like a crazy promdi fool. This time it was the end of February in Scandinavia, with miles and miles of snow. I had to suit up everyt ime I left the cozy warm indoors and I never felt I was wearing enough. My Zara sale coat performed quite well with a wool inner layer, but I think I'll be buying one of those puffy down-filled waterproof jackets with the fur trim sometime in the future.
In fairness, walking in the snowy outdoors was not as bad as I imagined. I thought that a tropical girl such as myself would freeze and keel over soon as I hit the outdoors but I was walking every day much like the other Norwegians (some of whom were jogging in - 2 degrees Celcius!). My face and hands got numb after awhile, and everyone kept telling me I was lucky to be experiencing such a mild bout of weather (the week before it was - 15 C), but then I thought, hey I can handle this!
That seems like a good sign.
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