Last Friday I left my apartment in the dark hours of the early morning to take a bus to the southwestern corner of Korea to scout the location of the show I will be producing in the spring. The scout was supposed to include a helicopter tour of the area, yet true to my theory that snow ruins everything, an unexpected blizzard ruined my first helicopter ride.
I am not a winter person. “But you’re from Boston,” is the first thing that everyone says when introduced to my inability to be warm below 60ºF. It’s true; I am from Boston. But thirty years of Boston will do that to a person. I would be perfectly happy to live inside a fireplace for the remainder of my days.
“Put on a sweater,” is another favorite, popular among teachers, mothers and grandmothers. My poor performance in mathematics can easily be attributed to this piece of advice, as no amount of sweaters can unfreeze the icy grip around a pencil. I challenge you to put on another sweater and see if that helps you with The Pythagorean Theorem.
It may occur to you that Korea was a poor choice when selecting a place of residence, and you would be correct. To its credit, for all its arctic temperatures, Korean winters are not as bad or as long as Boston’s. And the surplus of Korean saunas makes it vaguely bearable. But mostly, for me, winter in an exercise in patience. By early December, I just want to be warm again.
To be fair, an afternoon spent driving around in the Korean mountains during a white-out is on the magical side of things. It certainly trumped returning to Seoul, which had no snow and was merely motherf&*(^@$ freezing.