Whenever winter comes around, the tropical girl in me questions my sanity in moving here. Of all the things I considered before moving to another continent, the climate was not at the very top of the list. It really should’ve been. I knew nothing, Jon Snow.
This is why it took me a while to finally watch Frozen. That movie is a crock. There is no way one can have that much fun in the middle of a blizzard dressed in a gossamer gown. Disney is lying to us all!
Freshly fallen snow looks awesome. It looks exactly like a Christmas card. But a Christmas card doesn’t show you how it looks when the snow turns to dirty slush and forms big pools of icy water when it melts. It doesn’t tell you that these pools then refreeze overnight, turning your front porch into a giant ice slick just waiting for you to slip and break a hip.
Dumaguete was a different animal when I left it for ostensibly greener pastures. Not to say it wasn’t already awesome with its laid-back air, educational vibe, award-winning universities, its nurturing of the creative arts and the powerful literary forces that keep the local pride alive, not to mention its ability to churn out nurses who are almost always guaranteed to pass the bar exam, but let’s face it, Dumaguete was the kind of city that would – and did – commemorate the opening of a Dunkin’ Donuts. Yes. We had a rousing block party complete with B-list celebrity guest (Carlos Agassi, deep in his Amir of Rap phase) and people queued for hours just to get donuts. Choco butternut for life! It was glorious.