Baby, It's Cold Outside (aka I May Never Understand the Russian Mind)

So Monday was cold - collar up, find the gloves, consider pulling out the winter coat cold (they have fall coats and winter coats here - it was winter coat weather). Now, the past two days have been absolutely lovely - I took off my fleece and rolled my sleeves up on the way home from the gym because it was such nice weather. The majority of the Russians I pass on the street, however, are living in some alternate universe in which the next Ice Age is beginning. We're talking ankle-length wool or down coat, serious winter weather hattage (they like hats), the whole nine yards. They have to be sweating under all that, and yet they soldier on, all geared up for the unexpected blizzard that's bound to befall us in the next week or so.

Within these masses of extra bundled up people, there are subsets. Babyshkas (grandmas) get a free pass - most babyshki are prepared for a snowstorm in the middle of August, so there's really no passing of the seasons for them. Babies can't dress themselves, so they're spared the blame, but one has to wonder - the babies and small children have been dressed for subzero temperatures since we got here. I'm wondering what's going to happen when it actually gets cold - I fully expect to see a baby wearing the snowsuit it's been wearing since September, wrapped in a layer of fleece and stuffed into another snowsuit, with the entire ensemble topped off with a jaunty hat... It's a wonder the children don't keel over from the heat.

I think this entry was meant to contain more of the usual ranting and raving about classes and the Russian language (verbs of motion are evil, I tell you), but blogging about people in heavy coats has lightened my mood. Yay! I miss you all, be good!