<A> Withstanding winter in Benxi

NE China has REAL winters

Kitting myself out for living and travelling through a winter in the North East has generated rather the same excitement for me as when I was little and rushing around to buy new pens, pencils and badges (to wear on my blazer and annoy the teachers) for the new school term. I retain the same harmless defiance in the face of freezing temperatures that I did when I used different coloured felt-tipped pens to write my lines: I must not wear badges on my blazer, I must not wear badges…...

Winter arrives here in style: cold with inevitability and true to its name. It’s not like the pretend winters we get in England that are slightly colder, wetter and darker versions of autumn. I love the REAL winter, the cold and snow. Don’t ask me why as England rarely gets any of the three, but perhaps it is due to too many years spent wistfully wishing for snow every Christmas Eve and being disappointed. England is a place where we delight at the shock of temperatures getting to 0°C and come the first sign of snow, the whole country grinds to an incompetent stop: schools close, trains stop running and the MET Office issues ‘SEVERE’ weather warnings in big red letters. It’s a miracle we make it!

Yes, this bit’s about central heating!

You might have noticed, but it’s only fair to confirm that being British also qualifies me for being obsessed with the weather. I first wore my thermal top on 18th October 2005, yes, I’ve written it in my diary along with the groundbreaking news ‘it’s getting cold’. The central heating in Benxi is ‘centrally’ (!) regulated and was switched-on on November 1st. Not a moment too soon as nighttime temperatures had been hovering around 0°C for the previous 2 weeks. From this day, the heating in my flat is on continuously, it will go off in March.

The effects of this 24-hour heating regime are many fold. The first of which is the curious and unseasonal transformation of my flat into a sauna. It is easily warm enough for me to walk around in jeans and a t-shirt and I only wear my thermals indoors to ease my sense of guilt at how warm it is. I’m a subscriber to the notion that an extra layer is the best way to keep out the cold. Every morning when I open my curtains to the chimney venting cold clouds of smoke into the sky I feel a twinge.

Getting dressed

It’s not exaggerating to suggest the temperature difference between the inside of my flat and the outside world must be between 20-30°C. This initially lulled me into a false sense of security and had me wandering out woefully underdressed for the sub-zero temperatures. Now, as the daily temperature hovers somewhere in minus figures, I have my leaving-the-building-wearing-adequate-clothing routine all sorted out.

It’s more difficult than it sounds. It requires careful consideration of external temperature versus time, eg: I must sling on as many clothes as possible and exit my flat before I pass out from heat stroke. Currently, and this has been ongoing since December, daytime temperatures don’t get higher than -5°C and fall to night time lows of -20°C. This means usually 2 layers of thermal bottoms (long johns), 1 pair of thick socks, trousers (any that will actually fit over my extra padding), 1 or 2 long-sleeved thermal tops, a thick woollen jumper and a ¾ length winter coat. At this point, I’m starting to sway in the heat.

I have already prepared my bag and keys which wait for me by the door. All that remains is the footwear and accessories. A fabulous pair of fluffy fake-fur lined boots I bought in New Zealand have been a favourite of mine and justified their weight in my suitcase. However, tying the pom-pom ended laces wastes valuable time. Quick as a flash I wind my ultra-long striped scarf twice around my neck, button up my jacket, pull on my fleece gloves and slightly mad (pink, purple and jester-like) hat. With not a moment to spare I grab my keys and bag and step out, sweating, into the refreshingly cool stairwell.

Venturing out

Descending the stairs is a pleasure. The coolness is welcome on the only skin now available to the elements – my face. I’m 7 floors or 141 steps-up-no-lift from the ground and with each floor my face grows a little cooler. By the time I reach the murky entrance and the door to the outside my face is a little cold. Clichés aside, it should only be described as a wall of frozen air that hits me when I open the metal door. It’s no wonder that so many Chinese also wear face masks.

It’s true, but meaningless, to say I’ve never known such cold. I can describe it though, it hurts. Looking at it makes my eyes water and breathing it freezes my snot! It’s also a surprise to me how dry this cold is, there’s no moisture in the air. I understand for the first time the true meaning of the word raw.

But don’t get me wrong, I love it: it’s cleansing. It’s like a crisp, clean burning-off of my centrally-heated existence inside. It justifies for the first time dressing up like a clown and it removes all traces of the ‘body’ as certainly as the summer exposes it. I’m aware that I exist under all this clothing, but only because of the cold biting my face and the gentle, inevitable way it seeps into my hands and feet.

Putting on weight

This is a time when the average Chinese citizen might be considered a little overweight and the average Westerner might be considered a Michelin [ie: the fat, white mascot of Michelin tyres]. I can happily trade blows with all my Chinese friends safe in the knowledge that approximately 3-5cms of padding lie beneath my gloved hand and anything resembling leg or arm. In case you’re thinking I’m a bit weird, they do this to me too, repeating much to my amusement that my clothes are ‘tai shao le’ [too few]. We exchange a new greeting, no longer ‘ni hao!’ [Hello] or ‘ni chi le ma?’ [Have you eaten?] but ‘leng bu leng ?’ [Are you cold ?]

It’s snow-time

The first layer of snow fell in Benxi on 28th November, approximately 1cm thick. Within a few days it was 4cm and the hills paraded around the city with unexpected beauty. The roads quickly slushed-up, browned and then cleared. Students gave up their free time to shovel snow from the school grounds and temperatures nose-dived. Never again will I smirk as unreal-seeming Hollywood-generated snow flies around like so much polystyrene in winter movies. Such snow does exist, and it comes on very cold evenings when those who know no better (eg: me, up until a few weeks ago) would confidently assert: ‘It’s too cold to snow!’

A few days later and a curious oval shape, rather like a miniature running track, was dug out of the snow on the sports ground under my window. The next time I looked it was a solid ice-skating ring. Now it fills up daily with not a few excellent skaters and many more beginners. I watch from my sub-tropical flat and can’t help the odd grin escaping from time to time at the fallers, it’s rather like watching a new born take their first steps. I know the secret though, as I amble down to join the novices and give someone else a few laughs: I’m heavily padded.

I may not be cool but I am warm

Today, I found myself perusing my local back-street market in the -7°C that feels nothing if not normal now. Gazing like a child in a sweet shop at gloves, hats, woolly socks, knitted socks, furry adult-booties, padded leggings, fur-lined insoles and a plethora of winter wonders. Giddy with the knowledge I have money in my pocket and an excuse for spending it: survival. For I am off to travel colder climes than Benxi: the likes of Jilin, Harbin & Inner Mongolia beckon with even chillier fingers. So I put what was left of my already questionable fashion sense on hold and did a little shopping.

For 20RMB I’ve hooked myself a gorgeous pair of off-pink, wool-padded (could these be the items I swore I’d never buy?) leggings. It’ll be the first time I’ve ever worn a pair of curtains and a duvet simultaneously, worth it for this alone. They make my blue, green, red and purple striped long johns look like this year’s ‘must have’ fashion accessories. I’ve also picked up a pair of purple and orange striped gloves that niftily fit under my existing ones, for 3RMB.

So, 23RMB poorer and considerably wider, I am prepared for this wintry wonderland that is North East China. Not unlike the Michelin man, I am warm with my synthetic layers and proudly carrying my couple of spare tyres. The downsides being that I now only have 1 pair of trousers big enough to fit me and wearing 2 pairs of gloves renders my hands incapable of doing anything: minor technicalities. Yes, I may take up two hard-seats on the train, but at least my shoulder will make a comfortable pillow for my companions, fellow winter-wanderers, whoever they might be.

More information

Want to know more about the weather in Benxi or other Chinese cities from those of us living here ? (see, it’s not only us Brits who are obsessed.) Check out the forum’s ‘weather’ thread.

Want to know more about Benxi ? Well, few people do… but it’s underrated. Living here has been a remarkable experience. You won’t find it on the tourist trail though you might stumble across the name on your way to the nearby water caves. Once (in)famous as a city invisible to satellite because of the pollution, Benxi is in the heart of China’s coal and steel belt and it’s not pretty. The town has grown-up around Ben gang, one of China’s largest sheet-steel producing factories, and they’ve done a lot to clean themselves up. We even see blue sky sometimes…

See: www.travelchinaguide.com/cityguides/liaoning/

NB. Michelin man image taken from www.annotatedmst.com/ episodes/eyecreatures/