Zero Centigrade

So, it´s winter in Argentina.

This was a fact I knew before I left. But I also knew that we were in the Southern Hemisphere, and how cold can it get? I survived (mostly) a winter in Tacoma, I figured I could handle whatever this tropical paradise could throw at me.

Well, it turns out that it does get quite cold here. It was in the seventies in Rosario the week before we arrived, but this past week the country has been hit with a cold streak that has nearly every person greeting eachother with, ¨Hace mucho frio!¨

I didn´t pack for this weather, and neither did anyone else from the program. Yesterday, it was 35 degrees, and my host mom Marcela absolutely freaked when she saw that I was planning on wearing a dress, leggings, boots and a sweater.

¨Aren´t you cold Lisssieee?¨She said, staring at me with wide eyes. ¨You need to wear more clothes! It´s cold, darling.¨ She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway between her room and my aunt´s room.
¨Norah! Look at Lizzie. What a crazy girl to go out like this!¨ Marcela yelled. Norah came scurrying out, gave me the same horrified expression and said:
¨Haces frio lissie!!¨
The next ten minutes consisted of them clucking about, grabbing coats, cardigans, gloves, hats, scarves, and dressing me up until they were satisfied that I would not get sick and die on the streets of Rosario.
¨Oh Lisssie! Look at you! The boys will see you in this coat and say OH! Look at her! Yes, very chic.¨ (Or something like that).

The coat they had chosen for me was a peacoat on steroids: wide enough for a line backer, my frame appeared tiny between the shoulder pads and the bottom lapped at my ankles. I looked like a little girl who had raided her mother´s closet.


But, I guess I am.