montreal

a reversal

I have spent the majority of my life wrapped up in winter – whilst in Montreal, ducking into buildings to avoid the – 30 degrees bite of February cold on my way to work, spending the most minimal moments actually in the white freeze (thank you Montreal for your underground passages!). As most other habitants of the otherwise absolutely stunning city, dreaming in vibrant colour of the summer months to arrive where life is breathed back into downtown streets through lovely heat, weekly festivals, stylish city-goers, people watching, wandering, lounging on patios, is a seasonal past-time. Even writing about this, I am mentally planning a Montreal-bound itinerary for this summer.

Hah. The need to escape from winter to summer – even in writing – is instinctive. Back to the winter months. I’ll give it to Montrealers, we never stopped moving even in the sub-zero temps. Nothing epitomizes the Montreal spirit better than the Ice Storm of 1998. (Here is a random person’s account of the storm for those in need of a refresher: http://bit.ly/p44Gw). I remember downtown Montreal a dark ghostly resemblance of its usual self due to a complete power outage, trees falling in front of me from the weight of ice around their tiny branches, frozen temperatures. I also remember bars and restaurants keeping doors open, serving food and drinks with the help of private generators and tea candles on tables, fireplace equipped houses home to massive parties. The city was still moving. Ten years later, living in Toronto, I must say this same spirit was not as easily apparent. Even though Toronto is lucky with its slightly warmer temps, with the cold and snow brings an almost shutdown of activity. Now people may disagree with me – and maybe it’s an old Montreal-Toronto rivalry surfacing affecting my judgement – but in any case, the point to both cities and stories is that Canadian winters are dreadful.

And here I am in Doha where all of a sudden my life in relation to my climate has toppled. I arrived in winter, mid February, to gorgeous mid-20 temperatures. The sun was glorious. I don’t think I’ve ever borne witness to so many seriously crystal clear skies. Wonderful. Fast forward 3 months into summer. Average temperatures of 40 degrees Celsius, with  ’feels like’ readings of 55 with humidity. Apparently this is nothing in comparison to what is in store for me come August where temperatures will soar even higher. And this is me, I love heat – but reaching 60? come on!

Now I live by my AC. I duck into buildings not to escape the cold, but the oppressive heat. I yearn in vividness for those winter blue skies and sun that almost sparkles its presence known. Eye glasses that used to steam up in coldness upon entering a building, now fog with humidity upon exiting. One step outside and the skin is immediately damp as is everything else; I was walking across campus the other day with coursework. The paper was damp by the time I arrived to my destination.

Am I complaining though? Not at all! New experiences are amazing. And to those who’ve asked, isn’t a desert supposed to be dry?… well, perhaps yes, but not when it’s surrounded by a huge body of water called the Persian Gulf. The little state of Qatar is beaming with humidity as a result. Yikes!!