Most conversations you'd pretty much have at this time focus on the weather, or more specifically just how cold it is. How cold it is now, how it compares to how cold your country of origin gets, how cold our non-insulated apartments are, how much colder it is compared to last year. Got it, it's cold. It's that time of year between the western and eastern new years where it's kind of a new old year at the same time and there's nothing going on except the navel gaze of meteorological chit-chat.
You learn pretty early that winter is the harshest month here. A long time ago the peeps party degreed that anywhere south of the Yangtze river wasn't cold and therefore didn't warrant super-warm winter heating. Obviously nobody consulted me and as a result winters here lack a certain degree of indoor toastiness. My personal favourite is the restaurant that sees no problem at keeping things at 3 degrees above arctic.
But fear not, we all have air-con units. I'm sure these were bulk bought – oops, forgot where I was – made, and as a result we all have the same one. It's not so great at heating but extremely efficient at blowing deceases on everything. That is of course when it doesn't break down, usually on the coldest night possible.
So officially it's not cold so it stands to reason that it's also the season for unofficial colds and flus. Born in the polluted cesspool and brought to strength by the decease blowing units, these tenacious little menaces are a constant winter companion. These aren't the ones a couple of Codrils can hold at bay while you soldier on; no, a local product needs a local solution. And the only solution that matters here is the drip.
You walk into a local hospital, clinic, whatever and within 10 minutes there's a tube in your arm pumping antibiotics. Doesn't really matter what it is, the solution remains the same. Sore shoulder? Cut finger? Bug in the eye? Good God man, drip him!
I've become so deft at the old drip routine I know how to speed up the dosage so I'm out of there quicker – that too is a response of this city.
Another reason for the quick fix solution is to head off the shangflu before it becomes something more hardcore. In may case that's usually tonsillitis – weeks of feverishly good times with the added excitement of an infected throat closing at any time. Yep, complete awesomeness in the one illness. I've been warned that if it happens to me four times in a year out they'll have to come out. Try as I might, I've only been able to score two and a close call.
So you take the day off and it happens to coincide with the neighbour's renovation. Oh, and even if there's three floors separating you, it still sounds as though it's happening in the next room. Going into wok in a feverish haze always seems like the sensible option at these times. Besides, there's the chance to share the germs. Surely the same rules apply with colds as they do to songs stuck in your head – you can't rid yourself until you've passed it on. Well, in a communist country you're supposed to share around.
But it's not all whining and negativity as there are positives to the season, namely there's always the hope of snow falling if the conditions are right. It's the prettiest the city ever gets, probably because it's in disguise under its white blanket. And there we are, all snug as bugs underneath it – water seeping into Ugg boots and can't find a taxi for anything less than the price of your liver, but all's pretty.
Even better is the prospect of not venturing out at all and ordering McDonald's. Oh, I can feel those beady eyes of judgement burning a hole in my head right now. Stop your judgementalising people and give unappetising poison that can't even be diguised as food a chance. Besides, post 10.30 pm dinner at the office there's not much of a choice. Starvation is a viable alternative and most definitely the healthier option but there's just something it can't deliver.
You see, after placing your Mc Order the Mc Employee rounds out the conversation with this bit of Mc Magic: "Okay have good time bye.
That looming all nighter doesn't seem so bad when the Mc D's delivery person tells me to have good time. It reminds me of what's really important in this big blue world of ours. Cold outside? Forgetaboutit. Have good time bye. All work and no play getting you down? Whatever. Tell them all to have good time bye.
So there you go, winter's not so bad where at the end of a call you can feel a connection, a real connection that goes beyond pretend food and becomes all warm and gushy. So to all, wherever you may be, I wish you to have good time bye.
