I thought I was resilient, I thought I was strong - then I moved to Hong Kong and met up with a new Mother Nature.
Hongkongers must have angered her, because in New York, the Mother Nature I knew was a kind and nourishing force.
She gave us four seasons, mostly regulated and predictable. And we were happy. Don't get me wrong, she made mistakes, and we New Yorkers complained, but we quickly forgot about the blizzards, the heatwaves, and the bouts of heavy drizzle.
Mother Nature graciously continued as if nothing ever happened - the seas warmed, the air cooled, the leaves changed, the frost appeared, the rains descended and the flowers bloomed.
I left Gotham and moved to Hong Kong in early February, and heard all about the milky humidity, the mould and the downpours, and I was okay with all that. After all, I was resilient, I was strong. Then, I spent my second night here in my new apartment - the one without central heating.
It was so cold that dreadful night that I went to bed dressed in jeans, a sweater, a wool overcoat and a winter ski cap. This was a freeze I had never before encountered. I've stood on Lake Louise, Canada, during the dead of winter, camped and shivered in northern woods, and watched my metal spectacle frames freeze to my nose once in Chicago.
Hong Kong's icy air was entirely different. It bypassed blankets, passed through skin, pierced bone and stayed there like a naughty, arctic tenant. It continued for days - this teeth-chattering, relentless cold. I toured dozen of appliance shops looking for a space heater. They were all sold out.
