a rooskie in dublin

NO PENGUIN ME
by Irina Kuksova.
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There is one thing that is denied to Russian people living abroad, and that is sympathy when we're feeling the cold. Whenever we complain about the chill, we get the inevitable remarks...
"Cold? That's no big deal for you Rooskies. You must be used to it in your own country."
Ouch.
As a matter of fact the opposite is true. Having just made it through a Moscow winter where the temperature was minus 30 degrees, after my return to Dublin I do not willingly part with my scarves and cosy sweaters until the temperature is well past plus 20. Back in Russia half my compatriots spent the winter in bed. (The half who don't eat an organic apple a day to protect their health.) Anyway my point is that even in warmer climes, we do tend to stick to the winter woolies. Just to be on the safe side.
The thought of wandering around Grafton Street wearing tee shirts in January as Dublin men do, or exiting night clubs in October with midriffs bared like the Irish gals, just makes me shiver.
We Russians are not alone in finding Irish expectations as to our weather beaten hardiness slightly excessive. I was talking to a Spanish friend this week. She'd gotten sunburnt in the mini heatwave that Ireland is currently basking in. Her complaint? No one would believe the sun could have hurt her because her complexion is so naturally dark.
Which just goes to show we're all the same under the skin. Even if we don't always show it!