And now for a weather update

I am cold. It is nine degrees celcius here right now and it has been raining for several days and I am chilled to the bone. And if one more person, upon hearing how cold I feel, says to me "but your Canadian", I am going to punch them in the face. I know I am Canadian, I renewed my passport last week at the Canadian Embassy. That was a dead giveaway.

So consider yourselves warned.

Israel is experiencing below seasonal temperatures. This isn't particularly newsworthy because the entire world seems to be in temperature flux these days. What is interesting are the weather-related observations.

1. As I have mentioned many times on these electronic pages, buildings in Israel are built with cement blocks and there is no insulation added. Why? It seems so obvious to me, the non-builder. When I Googled "sheets of insulation for sale" I got more than three million options. I am sure we could have lots of it shipped here. And if we made a bulk order for the entire country, I am pretty sure we could get a good deal.  (Ken Nichols Insulation in Sullivan, IL, is offering excellent discount prices.) 

2. Saying you are sick and tired of the rain in Israel is pretty much the same as saying you are sick and tired of your grandmother (as you set her out to sea on an ice floe). Try saying that in Israeli company and let me know if you live to see tomorrow. Israel needs rain; well, the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) in particular needs rain. And since rain is considered a blessing from God in these parts, one has to be out of one's mind to complain publicly about it. Ever. That said, I would like to know why the Almighty can't improve His aim and send the water where it needs to go?

3. One of my friends here is from the Canadian Midwest. He likes to tell me every few years how not cold it is here. He knows cold and this isn't it. He tells me that he doesn't even wear a jacket in the winter when he is in Israel (I don't believe him but I don't have time to stalk him and catch him in the act of jacket wearing).  Of course, he spends a lot of time in the Northeastern United States which means that, relatively speaking, he is right. His body's temperature memory is still operational. Mine is not. I live here more consistently than he does. Nine celcius is the new minus 30 for me.

4. Why does my country of birth have any bearing on how cold I feel? No one questions the people from Detroit. Or Chicago. Or Cleveland. It is definitely as cold or colder in those places as it is in Toronto. And what does the place I come from15 years ago have to do with me being cold today? And does that mean that everyone who survived a week of deep winter skiing should be able to tolerate cold? Don't you think that being away from the real cold for 15 years would allow your body to forget? For Heaven's sake, this isn't riding a bicycle.

5. It is often warmer outside your home than inside. Seriously. Sometimes in the winter, I go outside in search of the noonday sun and even if that means sitting on a curb with my lunch in hand, and playing stupid games on my phone for 20 minutes, I do it. I once took the newspaper and sat in my car while the sun was beating directly onto the front windshield. When my neighbour spotted me and asked me what I was doing, I told him I was having quiet time in my auxiliary den. Unfortunately, in this past week, the sun took a vacation in Ethiopia and my auxiliary living space is unoccupied.

Now it is bedtime and it is time to head to my cryogenic-lab-temperature-approved bedroom. If I survive until the morning I am definitely going to contact Ken Nicols.

5756 miles and 11.7* south

The weather at this moment in Ra'anana, Israel (according to my car) is 4 °C. I can list on one hand the number of times I have experienced weather this cold in the past 12 years -- and none of those moments occurred in Israel.

So here's how I see it: I moved 5756 miles away and 11.7° south of my house in Toronto (that had heating 24/7 for eight months of the year) to live in very, very, very wet and very, very, very cold Israel. I can't help but wonder: Is the foul weather following me? Did someone somewhere think I was living too pleasantly? Was someone pissed that I experiencing too much sunshine? Was the fact that I did not need to scrape snow off my car windshield in finger-freezing weather offensive? Was I gloating about it? Well ..... maybe.

It is so wet and cold today that even my dog refuses to go outside. She has been holding nature at bay for more than 15 hours now -- and there is no way in hell that that can end well.

My son's ceiling is leaking -- roofs here are not built with the serious consideration of four days of pounding rain, wind and hail.

My daughter just informed me that if the ten layers of clothes she was wearing are not enough, then she has to go shopping because she simply does not own enough clothes for this weather.

My husband is leaving for Canada -- he says it's for business, but I think he is either going to get his real winter coat which is in a closet at his mother's house or he suspects it is warmer there.

And me, I am going to start surfing the net for a warm place -- hostile African and Arabian countries included -- to take a little vacation. I need to be somewhere hot so that I can go back to my normal complaint that I am too hot.

Batten down the hatches: winter in Israel

For the third day in a row the mercury has fallen to 12 degrees Celcius. For you Americans and Brits out there, that is 56 degrees Fahrenheit. For you non-Israelis out there, in Israel, this is simply cold.

When I was growing up there were many summers where the temperature never reached 75 degrees F. Of course, I was a different person then, and all it took was the slightest sign that the sun was trying to burst through the clouds, and we would all run home and put on our shorts ... and a ski sweater. We were desperate. Not stupid.

Since I grew up on the ocean's coast I just assumed that this was what summer was like in Canada. Years later, when I moved to Toronto, I found out exactly how misinformed I was. After 18 years without air conditioning -- who the heck needed air conditioning? -- I went to live in a city where one couldn't sleep without AC for a good three weeks every summer.

Actually, there was the one summer that I spent in Israel when I was 17. The day we arrived for our seven-week summer program it was 104 degrees F. I had no idea that such a temperature existed outside of the oven. Although everyone was speaking hebrew and I had no idea what was going on, the one thing I remember from my first week of the trip was that someone fried an egg on the street or on the hood of someone's car. Yes, it was that hot and I suffered. (I will spare you the details of my symptoms. Those of you who were there with me will remember and the rest of you don't need to know.)

Back to Toronto -- the place I lived when I bought my first air conditioner. Best $350 I ever spent. I sold it 16 years later for $100. Inflation was on my side.

So then we moved to Israel in the middle of August. Without going into detail, suffice it to say that I had no idea that I had so much excess fluid in my body until I started changing my clothes three times a day out of sheer necessity. Even antiperspirant didn't stand a chance for more than three hours.

I was so hot, so much, so long, that I prayed for winter. And this is yet another reminder of why one should be careful for what one prays for ... YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY GET IT.

Winter is Israel is nothing like winter in Nova Scotia, Toronto, Hamilton, or Syracuse (all the other places that I have lived long enough to comment on the weather). Originally I thought that everyone wearing a sweater when the temperature dropped to 18 degrees C was a wuss. Ha. I can be very stupid myself sometimes.

I was wrong. Period. There is no snow here. This is good. There is lots of sun. This is also good. But there is a dampness in the air that gets into your bones and because, generally speaking, houses do not have insulation, it is often warmer outside than it is inside. Particularly in older houses that aren't well constructed.

I spent many a winter afternoon sitting in my car reading the newspaper because at least there, the sun was beating down on the windshield and warming up the car. AT least I could read my newspaper in comfort in my mobile "den".

Eight winters later, I am less tolerant of the cold than ever. I dread having to travel to Canada in the winter because I might have to leave the protection of my mother's condo at some point. Once, during a winter visit, I went for a walk with my father. It was only five degrees C. below zero -- I complained the entire way and my father just kept laughing. By his standards it was a beautiful winter day. I almost fainted when it was time for the return trip.

Frankly, I find Canada too cold in May. By May I have been out of shoes and into sandals for a few weeks already. Maybe longer. I have probably been to the beach. And having to dig up a pair of pantyhose to wear is too horrific for words.

So here I sit. 12 degrees C outside and I am bundled up to my neck in several layers of clothing. Thanks to my husband's foresight, our house is warm, but even here I have to leave it now and then. If you saw me you would think that I was headed to the North Pole for a mini-expedition, when in fact, I am just preparing for my walk to the corner store.

One man's cold is another man's hot

I just want to say good-bye to anyone who is used to seeing me out and about.

It's that time of the year again when I know my summer hibernation is about to begin. In central to northern North America people head indoors somewhere around late October, only to surface again the following spring. In Toronto that can arrive anywhere from mid April to late June.

However, in Israel, I find myself doing the exact opposite. It's around this time of the year that I start finding it a task to even have skin. It's just too hot to wear anything and if I could peel off my skin, I probably would.

I was looking in my closet yesterday and I realized that I no longer own any real winter clothes. I have a few sweaters, but they don't really constitute winter sweaters by Canadian standards. They are all lightweight, early fall wear if you ask a Canadian. Also, I have a ridiculous number of flip flops and sandals. Please don't repeat this to Chaim because it would just reinforce his thinking, but the truth is that if you wear summer shoes six months of the year, you need lots of them. And I wear summer shoes six months of the year.

I am indignant when that inevitable point comes, sometime in late December, when I realize that I am going to have to find my tights and put them on. I complain all winter that I am freezing, when in fact, I am only wearing a light sweater and a jean jacket -- and those stupid tights. People inevitably say: "You're Canadian, this must be a breeze for you." Well, let me tell you something. I haven't experienced a Canadian winter in seven years and I have long since forgotten what they are like. Nor do I care to remember. And I am definitely not one of those people who scoot off to Jerusalem if they have any snowfall. It's a thrill I can easily live without.

Somewhere around February I start wishing for summer. You think I would learn. But I don't.

Come June, summer is back in full force and I can't remember why I wanted it to return so badly. There is nothing worse than getting dressed in the morning and then -- within taking 10 steps outside -- being so hot that your clothes are sticking to you and you start to smell less than rose like.

You hop into your car in search of a reprieve but the car is so hot that you could fry an egg on it. Ten minutes later the air conditioning kicks in and then you are so cold that you can pretty much expect to be sick within a few days of this routine.

Finally there is summer vacation and the kids want to go somewhere -- anywhere. You want to stay indoors until November but they have other ideas. I refuse to go the beach until the sun is setting -- and since we live 15 minutes from the beach I can impose that rule. However, my kids are not deterred. They want to climb a mountain or go on a three-hour hike. I fight. I complain. I divert. And then I get in the hot car and go. But as soon as I can, I come home and go back to the basement, where I will happily stay until the Israeli winter sets in and it is safe to come out again.