BABY, IT'S COLD INSIDE

On account of what appears to be a country-wide decree passed down from on high by cold-hearted bureaucrats, no one in China turns the heat on until the 15th of November. It just isn't done. Schools seem to receive a slight exemption -- at Tsinghua the heat was turned on on the 1st of the month, putting an end to the strange sight of teachers conducting class wearing parkas. You can of course buy a little space heater, and some apartments have A/C that can also blow heat, but they aren't very effective, especially in my big room with a wall of floor to ceiling windows. It is the radiators that do the real work, and it is those that we have no control over. And lest you think this is evidence of a greener China, guess how most of those radiators are going to be fueled come next Thursday? Wait for it..............

COAL!

While I am nervous about the incineration and aspiration of even more fossil fuels, I still think the policy is too, too cruel. I had to buy an extra blanket and still usually sleep in my hat and several layers of clothing. I bundle up to study but still shiver and have to get up and run around or think of an errand that will give me an excuse to go up and down our nine flights of stairs.

In a strange way, I can appreciate the unifying nature of the policy, which becomes a shared experience for everyone, as well as another way in which we conceive of time as divided by the senses. When I think back to remember events of this year I will probably categorize them by pre- and post-heat weeks (and possibly also by when I am finally forced to abandon my skirts for more [sigh] practical trousers). In India, the monsoon is a killer and a huge pain in the ass, but it also has a strong place in collective and individual memory. Every Indian writer I've ever come across has waxed poetic about the romance of the rains, of being drenched with strangers; or being cozy inside, playing games, cooking, or reading as the torrents fall.

While far from a natural phenomenon, I wonder if the National Starting of the Radiators holds a similar place in Chinese hearts. Do lovers write to each other, "my heart is suddenly aflame like the middle of November"? Are more relationships begun in the first half of the month than the second on account of the practical needs for warmth?

I don't know, but I've decided to pretend that my birthday falls two days later than it actually does, just so I can wake up to all that lovely radiating heat and imagine that it is all for me.