AROUND THE KITCHEN TABLE

By Maureen Weber

Winter finally arrived on the weekend, late but not better than never, as far as I am concerned. Have you ever paid attention to how your body responds to the cold? Your shoulders hunch, you hold your core tightly, walk fast, head down in determination to get wherever you’re going quickly, and maybe you even frown. I do. The cold doesn’t make for a welcoming countenance.

I wonder if winter forms us into unfriendly people. It is said that people from the prairies are friendly and maybe compared to eastern Canadians they are but, compared with Mexican people, prairie folk are downright crotchety. Our family spent the Christmas holiday in Mexico so the contrast is fresh in my memory.

I’m an introverted person, labeled shy from an early age. I haven’t really minded because it gives me an excuse to avoid people, but avoiding people was difficult in Mexico. It’s crowded with tourists, many of them from Canada (the lobster-red sunburns give them away) and, of course, lots of local people running shops and working in the hospitality industry.

This is the second time I’ve been to Mexico and what had the most impact was not only the warmth of the sun, but the warmth of the welcome. Hola, Buenos dias! Where are you from? Welcome to Puerto Vallarta! They are proud of their city and it seems very important to them that visitors love it as much as they do.

My Saskatchewan ears had never heard hola spoken aloud, and for the first few days every time I tried to say it, it came out hello, no matter how hard I tried to make my tongue reverse the letters. By the end I was getting pretty good not only at saying hola to everyone I met, but also being comfortable with doing so.

You might think it was just because we were on holidays, but that isn’t it. I’ve been on holidays to places in Canada and never felt a welcome so wide that it coaxed me out of my reticence. Our hosts were genial, and I became accustomed to responding in kind. The warm weather had a lot to do with it, too. Time goes more slowly where it’s warm — no one is in a real hurry to get anywhere because you don’t have to worry about your nose freezing before you reach your destination.

How can you be friendly in layers of wool and fleece wrapped in a puffy coat?

Janice Weber photo

Sauntering down the boardwalk in a summer dress, bare arms and bare legs, reminded me of the freedom I felt as a kid in the summertime. When you’re relaxed and warm it’s easy to be outgoing, feels good to smile at strangers.

Now that frigid temperatures have reached Saskatchewan, everywhere you go people are grumbling about the weather. Cold enough for you? My dad always hated that expression and could sometimes be heard responding not yet through clenched teeth.

A few days into our cold snap I have yet to meet someone in an upbeat mood. Maybe it gives us all something in common, but it’s a grim bonding experience.

I remember our return home after Christmas. We arrived in the middle of the night and when I awoke in my own bed I still felt marinated in the Mexican sun — a glow that comes from the inside out. Our fridge was empty so I went to the grocery store to find it filled with post-Christmas shoppers re-stocking. It was a shock to the system to see these isolated units swathed in scarves, resolute in their mission. We’re hardy and there’s work to be done, no time for foolishness. My face was still set to smile, and I said hello to everyone who happened to glance in my direction. Once I almost said hola. Some gave me strange looks — who is this person? — but most warmed visibly and smiled back. I felt like a sun goddess bringing light to a doleful world.

These days the only glow I have is from the halogen heater that sits by my feet, and the bottle of Vitamin D in the cupboard. I think it’s right by the bottle of tequila we brought back. Maybe it’s time to recapture some Mexican warmth.