Pleasant day: 48 in Eugene now, versus 84 in Neyveli then!

It was sunny outside, against a clear blue sky.  Halfway through my sandwich, I checked the temperature display on my phone.  48 degrees. I finished my sandwich and the fresh mug of coffee.  And stepped out for a five mile walk.

Back when I was growing up in India, I would have shivered at the very thought of 48 degrees.  Well, it would have been 9 degrees Celsius in the metric system.  And now, 48 and sunny is wonderfully pleasant.  Pleasant enough for me to venture out on a five-mile walk!


At the campus recruitment interview, when the personnel officer asked me where I would like to get posted, I asked for Calcutta, which is where I did end up.  January there was the coldest long stretch that I had experienced, other than the two chilly days in Ooty and Coonoor.  I wore the only sweater I had--a black one--almost every day to work; for all I know, I had even earned a nickname of "the guy in the black sweater."  I might have found out if I had stayed there for more than the ten weeks that I did.

What puzzled me was this: the locals were all bundled up.  Even more than me.  That I could not understand. Wouldn't they have been used to the cold like how I was used to the heat in Neyveli?  The BBC has an interesting take on the current winter in Calcutta:

[Here] in Calcutta, in the east, there is a different reaction.
This year the mercury dropped to 9C (48F) - balmy for London or New York in winter, but here it was the coldest day for 100 years.
Calcutta is known as the "city of joy". But believe me, on that day there was little of it in India's former capital.
And all across one of the world's biggest cities you could hear millions of mothers frantically telling their children "Toopi por, thanda lege jabe," which means, "Wear a hat, otherwise you will catch a cold."
To be fair, it is a phrase they can use even when the temperatures are as high as 20C (68F). Whatever the thermometer says people here start wrapping up warm in December and keep their hats on until February.

That was my impression too--that the locals didn't perhaps wear all that because they felt awfully cold, but because it was their designated outfit for that time of the year.  The "babus" wore their jackets and coats, and the women brought out their colorful shawls.  The kids, of course, wore sweaters and jackets and shawls and caps.

The caps, apparently, are not any simple ones anymore:

For those of you who have never seen a monkey cap here is a quick description. It is a thick woollen hat that totally covers your head, your neck and your ears.
The only parts which are open to the elements are the mouth, eyes and nose.
It has come to be known here in India as the Bengali topi or hat. Basically, it looks a bit like a balaclava.

When an American friend of mine landed at Calcutta airport recently, to be greeted by the sight of everyone walking about wearing one, he joked that he thought that he had walked into a city holding a bank robbers' convention.

This year there is also a new fashion accessory to accompany the monkey cap.
With the temperatures dipping even more, ear muffs are the new must-have.
From a distance, it looks like some older Bengalis are wearing huge headphones.

Last December and the one before, I noticed that the headphone-like ear muffs were all the craze in Chennai too.  Most mornings, I reached the neighborhood Panagal Park at about 5:30 in the morning, in my shorts and a t-shirt and still found it a tad warm, while almost all my fellow walkers were fully attired, many of them with caps and ear muffs.  It was easy to explain: when they are used to 90 degrees, 68 early in the morning can feel out of the ordinary.

Out of the ordinary for me is now anything higher than 80 degrees.  Sunny and 48 was just wonderful earlier today.  On the bike path, I passed my neighbor Kay, slowed down to walk with her for a while and learnt a lot about her travels in France and Hungary.  As I continued on, while she prepared to turn back, we both reminded each other to enjoy the rest of the fantastic day.

On my way back, I chatted with my neighbor, Jim.  Of course, we talked about what a gorgeous day it was.  "I grew up in Michigan, where winters were tough" he said.  "But, then as a kid, when playing hockey or throwing snowballs, it was nothing but fun" he added.

I nodded.  "When we are kids, we don't know anything better, and we enjoy wherever we grow up" I replied.  As a kid, I certainly had no idea that I would get to enjoy, and write about, pleasant, sunny, 48 degree late winter days by the Willamette River in scenic Oregon.