Every morning, the cold somehow penetrates through my windows and walls and is already pressing against me before I even open my eyes. Even with my woolen pajama bottoms, thick sweatshirt, and socks on, I’m shaking under my blanket. I drag myself out of bed, wrapping the blanket around me, and psyche myself up for the coming cold. Sometimes I’m too cold to even move. I try to jump up and down a couple of times, to rub my hands together to produce some sort of warmth, but the best thing that I can do is hurry and get my clothes on. I quickly pile on layer after layer and stuff a scarf, a pair of gloves, and a cardigan into my bag for emergency too-cold-to-handle moments. As soon as I’m warm enough, I go downstairs my dorm for breakfast. I take a hot cup of coffee to induce some warmth into my stomach and brace myself for the cold day ahead.
At around 8 a.m., usually there’s hardly any sun out yet, and when I look out the window, Lille looks gray and extremely cold. But it’s really when I finally step out the door that I feel the power of the enemy. The icy air that seeps through my clothes, the painful wind that blows against my cheeks – yes, the enemy is quick in his attack. Thank God that I’m well prepared! What would life be without thick coats, scarves, and gloves? Even if the day looks like it’s going to be a warm one, I still pack my precious pieces armor in. I refuse to be unprepared for any "surprise attack". Also, I make sure that I pile on several layers of clothes, from thermal underwear to jackets. Other people don’t like layering because they say it’s too hot to wear all those clothes indoors, but I’d rather feel too hot in all my layers than freezing my limbs.
I’ve always liked the idea of warmth better than cold – freshly baked bread, the crisp heat emanating from a candlelit dinner, a comforting feeling of warmth from a blanket on a rainy day, the sun hitting your skin on the beach, a tight and assuring hug from a friend. There’s nothing like the comforting, relaxing, reassuring feeling of warmth. I’ve always been someone who easily gets cold. I bristle against cold sometimes. My hair turns brittle, my skin starts drying up and flaking, and my lips start cracking and chapping. I remember one time I came from South Africa in the winter, and on the plane ride home I noticed that my nose was looking kind of dark. I realized that the skin was peeling off because of windburn, and I had my hand over my nose the entire way home. So before getting here, I made sure I brought reinforcements, from moisturizer to lotion to lip balm. On our first day in Lille, I told Raphael, a member of IESEG’s international club, that I hate feeling too cold. He laughed and asked, "What are you doing in Lille? We’re in the north of France!"
My sentiments exactly. During the first couple of days, my cheeks dried up right away and I had to remedy them with moisturizer. I had to wear about three to four layers right away and it was just August when I arrived. If I had that amount of layers on already in August, I might I have to put my entire wardrobe on everyday by the time November came along. So I savored every moment that the sun was out, and back in August and September, that was a long time. Sunset would be around 8:30 to 9 at night, and we would have finished dinner and cleaning up by the time the sun was starting to sink.
Weeks have passed. The sun begins to sink at around 3 in the afternoon. The temperature has been averaging in single digits. Every time I step outside, I create new atmospheres and entire cloud formations when I breathe. Lo, and behold, I’m surviving. Mornings are still extremely cold, but with the heater finally on in the dorm rooms, it’s been much easier to pull myself out of bed. I’ve learned how many layers I need for the day and for the night, and which jackets I can use for different times of the day. I’ve learned that a hat on your head or a scarf wrapped around your neck can make you feel a lot warmer than just a single coat. I’ve learned that low temperatures can be quite comfortable, but when the wind blows it turns into a horrible experience. I’ve learned that your hands are very sensitive to cold and wearing gloves can save them from unnecessary pain. I’m not doing as badly as I thought. Of course, I would still rather be sitting somewhere warm but my resistance to the cold is a lot better and stronger than it used to be.
It’s just like my experience here in France. This whole Junior Term Abroad has been a trip outside of my comfort zone. I remember that even making the decision to just apply was incredibly difficult for me. It was a huge adjustment for me to be away from my loved ones, to be away from my country, to everything I’m so used to, and to be submerged in a new, foreign culture. I was a bit scared at the beginning of it all. Everyone was talking in French, the management subjects I was taking sounded tough, being away from home felt weird. Now, I’m more than half way done with my semester, and I can’t believe how much I’ve learned and how much fun I’ve had. I still miss the Philippines, but this whole semester has really taught me to be stronger, to be more independent. I’ve learned so much about being on my own and about myself as well, and so I feel much more prepared for the things that life will surely throw my way. I guess the saying is true, that you have to face your fear to be able to conquer it. Somewhere in my cold morning walk to school from my dorm, I’ve finally come to terms with the enemy. Let the wind blow, let the temperature drop – I’m ready. I’m no longer shaking.