The Cold War

I can't quite seem to get the hang of Gainesville's weather. I'm assured it is highly spatially-variable - apparently it is quite common to have sun shining on your parched front lawn while your neighbour across the street is sandbagging his front door to keep the rain out. This is, I merely mention, despite absolutely no apparent changes in topography, or, I dunno, mountains, the sorts of things that normally affect weather. Can a tree have a rainshadow? In Gainesville, perhaps. Or maybe they have lots of butterflies, flapping their little wings...

Arriving here a shade over 5 weeks ago, I couldn't believe the heat. Every time I got off the bus, stepped out of the trailer, or left the office or a shop, my heart stopped in shock at the wall of heat, regardless of shade, direct sun, rain, whatever, that clings breezelessly everywhere not frantically airconditioned. The converse of this is stepping inside, and having the perspiration freeze instantly on your previously clammy shirt and brow... Ex-Durbanites can be identified by blue lips and chattering teeth while waiting in the queue at Publix. The busses are even worse - each seat seems to have a vent out of which blows, nay, blasts, frigid air on the helpless public transportee. Or, occasionally, the aircon will be switched off, and the bus interior becomes immediately muggy and stifling, condensate dripping down the insides of the windows, etc, owing partly to the latest trend in bus maintenance of fixing the windows closed, denying us even the 7 cm gap previously available to the desperate traveller. Back in the good old days (last week), when the windows DID open, it was usually to warm the bus up inside, rather than cool it down.

As of about the day before yesterday, Gainesville suddenly became chilly. One day I was expiring in sun at the bus stop; the next day, same bus stop, same time, sitting in the same sun, bundled up and teeth chattering. I have also officially switched the central airconditioning in the trailer onto 'heat'. It is underwhelming.

My office still takes the cake, however. A series of increasingly desperate (and cold) past occupants of the office taped layers of plastic bagging over the aircon duct, in a series of (vain) attempts to calm the torrents of freezing air pouring into the centre of the room. I tell you, if someone sneezes in the next office, little snowflakes fall in mine a few seconds later... The plastic bag balloons out quite satisfyingly, but there are a series of large holes in the bag, that only seem to focus and concentrate the cold. I have fantisized about getting a large roll of masking tape and sorting out the remaining holes (several are already patched - it seems there was a keen 'clear contacter' at some stage in the office' history). The sweet, unassuming Chinese girl, with whom I share the office and generally cordial relations (over the 'Berlin dryWall' that separates our respective halves), assures me that a few holes are necessary, otherwise the whole lot will pop, no doubt releasing a small avalanche. It seems to me, however, that ALL the holes, one large in particular, seem to aiming towards my side of the office, and her side seems curiously, perhaps recently, patched... I couldn't help but notice a certain smugness in her bearing when she said it...

Despite the jersey, longs, boots, and scarf, in this war against the Cold, the Russians are still winning.