When the mercury in the Cayman Islands plummets to a chilly 74°F, the island undergoes a transformation that would likely baffle any other human. Suddenly, the flip-flops are kicked aside and locals unearth winter wardrobes usually reserved for their vacations abroad. Cold is, I believe, a state of mind, a bit of brain chemistry, and occasionally, a great excuse to wear a very cute knit sweater, a cozy hat, bed socks to walk the dog and even a tropical hoodie or two.
Neuroscience would say, our brains are less like thermometers and
more like highly biased editors. We possess thermoreceptors in our skin that
don't just measure absolute temperature, they measure change! Yup! Thermal
adaptation is real my friends! If your baseline like mine is a humid 90°F, a 15
degree drop triggers a cold signal to the hypothalamus that is
indistinguishable from the panic a Londoner feels when it hits freezing.
When you live in a perpetual steam room, a 15-degree drop isn't
just refreshing, it can present a biological emergency, for instance for my
colleague this week declared themselves depressed by the temperature! (read:
under the weather). Our brains have a built-in internal predictive model of
what normal feels like and on a small island, when a "Nor’wester"
blows in, it breaks our internal tropical contract. The brain reacts to this
deviation by screaming for a help (read: sweater, blanket, SOS), regardless of
the fact that the rest of the world calls 74°F perfectly toasty weather.
Perceptions of cold around the globe are quite fascinating! Check
out these Locations | Temperatures | Local Reactions
Norway | 14°F | "Perfect for a brisk outdoor nap."
(Hygge culture)
London | 41°F | "Stiff upper lip, just a bit
dampish."
Canada | 32°F | “Beautiful day for a light jog in shorts”
New York | 32°F | "Why do I live here? I'm moving to
Cayman."
Siberia | -22°F | “The vodka is starting to slush, best bring out
a hat”
Grand Cayman | 74°F | "Break out the layers and the hot
cocoa, it's chilly outside.”
To a born Brit like myself after 18 years in the Caribbean I am
ruined for life, you will definitely find me scurrying for a pashmina while
tourists from Toronto are still doing cannonballs into the pool!
In my view, there is nothing quite so dignified as going local in
a turtleneck or stockings when the sun is still technically capable of causing
heatstroke to any visiting tourist. I wore both my stockings and then my
thermal turtle neck this week, no lie! While I joke about the fashion, a cold
front brings a real shift … The Sea? The normally placid western shores of Seven
Mile Beach turn into a churning washing machine and the cruise ships cannot
dock in George Town. Then there is the vibe? The humidity vanishes, and the
island exhales. It’s the one time of year we can walk to lunch, well tbh walk
anywhere, without arriving looking like we’ve just swam there. We can keep our
windows open! And we take relish with utter delight at the prospect of a lower
utility bill come the month end. Our cars are not ovens and we can run a lunch
time errand without fear of passing out.
Deep down, our upbeat island nature thrives on this change.
Psychologically, sweater weather allows for social signalling, it’s a beautiful
shared cultural moment. We get to banter in the office about the chilly weather
together, which is its own form of community building.
Whether you’re in a cold culture, where frost is a badge of
honour, isolated and cut off by a snow drift, or on a tiny island where a 70°F
night is a legitimate reason to add extra blankets and stay indoors, our
perception of weather is absolutely fascinating. It’s not at all about the
number on the dial, it’s about how we collectively feel?
It’s a gift that gives us a reason to pivot from our usual upbeat
empathy to a shared, slightly theatrical fun exchange as we huddle and discuss
the chill. We offer each other warmth with a smile that says, it’s the
thrill of the change! On an island where the seasons are "Hot"
“Hotter” and "Slightly Less Hot," we for the most part truly embrace
the odd cold front!
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