On Changing Climate

When I boarded an aeroplane on Monday you could have been forgiven for thinking that it was merely a journey from one city to another, exiting a familiar culture and plunging into an alien one. It was, of course, both of those things, but moreover it was a catapult ride into a frigid and foreign climate.

I've lived all over Australia, but have spent most of my years in South East Queensland. It's not quite the tropics, but what the locals try to pass off as winter there is an enviable summer in many other parts of the world. What I'm getting at in my round-about way is that cold weather behaviour is something I need to concentrate on to get right.

I didn't realise how much about the art of staying warm I'd forgotten, as is evident by the contents of my backpack. The cut and weave of the clothes worn in Queensland render them as good as useless in anything under 15C. To wit: I have four t-shirts with me; only one of them will stay tucked in -- if I don't move around much. Another comes close, but is laughably thin. The other two are boarding a flight to poly/cotton paradise before I leave this city.

You'd expect my body to be grateful for my relieving it of the burden of having to lift its limbs and produce sweat in such prolific volume in the tropical conditions. That assumption would be quite incorrect. It's in uproarious protest; skin flaking, hair wirey and erratic, lips chapped, cuticles splitting painfully. I realised tonight that my eyes and face have both reddened terribly, and are now roughly the same colour -- much more and they'll blend in with my hair, making me The Human Matchstick.

Clothing management is another issue. Wearing so many garments requires no little attention to logistics, and, quite frankly, more effort is due on my part. I am used to one layer only, and even then an incomplete one. Board shorts, bikini top, end of inventory. Or maybe underwear,pants, shirt, sandals and that's it. Currently I'm wearing:

• underwear,
• bike shorts,
• long johns,
• another pair of long johns,
• jeans,
  
• socks,
  
• boots,
• singlet,
• t-shirt,
• thermal undershirt,
• fleecy vest,
• mohair jumper,
• neck gaiter,
• scarf,
• gloves,
• jacket,
• beanie (borrowed).

Anyone for pass the parcel? Some previous experience in event management comes in useful when dressing of a morning. And a useful tip for other tropical travellers headed for frosty climes: pulilng up four layers of pants at once doesn't work. Try it and you'll agree.

The layers themselves aren't working as I'd hoped they might, either. The jeans I packed were clearly quite spacious -- OBVIOUSLY ample room for a pair of two of long johns beneath. Perhaps I would have done well to have tested this theory prior to allocating them precious space in my pack. With layers underneath they look... well... a little... *ahem*... slutty. So I've condemned myself to travelling the world looking like Pinky Tuscedero after an obscenely large feed of ravioli. A look recommended for travelling women in all reputable guidebooks, to be sure.