The cold weather has come to Zafra. When I say cold I mean that the temperature is no longer 30 degrees; it’s dropped to about 14, but this change occurred in the space of two days and no one was prepared.
You’d think a polar vortex had hit Spain. In the streets the (woollen) gloves are out, I’ve seen multiple bobble hats and last season’s Zara scarves are making all kinds of appearances. At school the playground is deserted, the students are occupying the corridors and the teachers are despairing. You can just about hear the exclamations of ‘que frio!‘ beneath the layers of snoods and baklavas.
If you think that’s extreme you‘ll be impressed to hear that my flatmate Whitney’s school have resorted to serious cold-prevention techniques. Their staffroom now features a round table with a heated blanket as a table cloth; the teachers sit huddled around it with their legs underneath in a cave of warmth.
For me, a Durham student, it’s not that cold. However, before coming to Spain I was lucky enough to spend Summer in the south of France. I returned to England for a few weeks but before my tan had the chance to fade I’d packed my bags again – I’ve therefore had five consecutive months of sunshine! As a result, my trusty tartan coat hasn’t seen daylight since April and I’m enjoying wearing it after all this time. The colder weather is quite a novelty in general; it makes home seem closer, cups of tea taste sweeter and I can finally wear more layers. Naturally my bed is also cosier, which isn’t such a positive when my alarm goes off… and we might have to start paying heating bills soon, but for now I’ll enjoy the change. Not having to worry about sweat patches whilst teaching teenagers is definitely a bonus.