When I first arrived in Barcelona it was +24 degrees everyday, gorgeous shining sun and not a cloud in the sky. The whole city seemed to exist in a constant state of happiness. But as November and December took shape and the evenings dipped down to the apparently ungodly temperatures of +5 and +7 degrees the Barcelona faithful began to bundle themselves up like it was the first snowfall.
People noticed me walking home from the office at +10 degrees with just a dress shirt and tie and told me that I was insane. They all had a good laugh at The Canadian, “this must be like summer for him”. Morons, I’d think to myself.
As I took notice of the climate’s affects on the locals I realized they were right and that being Canadian certainly did have something to do with my tolerance to cold. You don’t survive the January of 2004 working outside at -35 degrees and and not walk away with something. Besides frost bite and emotional scarring.
I was out taking a leisurely walk today, the sun was shining as usual, a nice fresh breeze was making its way through the streets and I was thinking how gorgeous it was for the 14th of January. No sooner did this thought cross my mind that I noticed a couple crossing the street looking like they were getting ready for snow boarding season in the Swiss Alps. Heavy jackets, scarfs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had on heated underwear. These people were wearing clothes in +10 weather that I would wear to shovel the driveway with 2 feet of snow.
Overall, I’m very proud to be Canadian, but today was extra sweet.
+10??? Poor Spaniards would think it’s the end of the world over here. Go Canada Go…