When we decided to move to Canada, we heard one comment more than any other: “What about the winters?”
We laughed it off. Full of vim for our big step into a new country, we said we could cope.
Well, now that winter is here I have to quote the Bible: Jesus wept.
This week, we had our first big dump of snow. Here in south-western Ontario, we live in what’s called “the snow belt”. That means this area gets snow a lot of it, and often.
I’m learning some new phrases. “Lake-effect snow” refers to our position near two of the Great Lakes. It’s something to do with the way cold air and warm air meet, then travel our way. It translates as: “lots of snow”.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=BFknknhD7N0%3Frel%3D0
Another phrase, with reference to large dumps of the white stuff, is “heart-attack snow”. That means digging your car out can kill you, especially when you get more than 20 inches of it in 36 hours, like we did this week. After three separate hours digging out two separate cars, I understood the phrase all too well. It also translates as: “lots of snow”.
Unsurprisingly, Canadians know a lot about snow. They can tell at a glance if it will make a good snowman, or if it will involve a brush, a snow shovel or a scraper before you can drive to work. The weather forecasts are frighteningly accurate. Then it arrives and everybody heads out as normal, after lots of digging.
That’s the biggest lesson we’ve had: it’s only snow.
I’ve been wearing this permanent expression of stupefaction all week. In the UK, this snowfall would paralyse the entire country. It would stop all transport. It would dominate the national news. It would mean helicopter supply drops, economic damage and general misery. Here, apart from a bit of all-too-familiar complaining about the local authority not clearing the pavements fast enough, it’s no big deal, because of course it happens all the time.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=U1WYd7e3SlU%3Frel%3D0
There are snowploughs and snowblowers everywhere. People invest in them. Everybody’s got snow tyres with extra-deep treads made of a special compound that copes with low temperatures. Everybody’s got shovels and boots and incredible coats. The toque a woolly hat that rhymes with “cook” is pretty much a national icon.
I was deeply, deeply impressed with how everyone coped. It was a massive snowstorm, even for the snow belt, but people just rode it out. Many followed the authorities’ advice and stayed at home, but those who needed to go out simply did.
Astonishingly, the buses kept running. So did the trains. Most of the shops stayed open and the storm was almost 24 hours old before the municipal authorities closed the swimming pools. At one point, I was in a coffee shop and overheard someone complaining that some of the shops were closed. Yes, the coffee shops were open. They were open even before the ploughs were out. I couldn’t believe it.
So, ironically, our bravado was correct. After the trauma of the first day I freely admit I was a nervous wreck the sheer normality of it all showed us that we were right. Yes, we will cope. Everybody else does.
But, that first day, I drove home via a big-box store and I bought some very nice boots, guaranteed to save your toes when it’s minus 40 degrees C.
Yes, minus 40.
I say again: Jesus wept.