The Weather Or Why I Might Not Survive November

I'm a SoCal girl all the way when it comes to weather. I enjoy the sun, the beach, the almost constant weather and the fact that "cold" where I live means 50 degrees (and that's with no sun.)

Istanbul is not that sort of place. It could even be called the antithesis of it. In the summer, it's ridiculously hot. Maybe it's the combination of asphalt, concrete buildings, and tons of cars that makes it 100 times hotter than my little hometown. Anyways, it's not the summer that kills me (although it does come close, what with the mosquitoes swarming and feeling like you're sweating even while showering.)

It's the winter, which is starting right about now. In one day, the weather managed to change from 65 degrees to 30 degrees. Ouch. It doesn't help when your mother is crazy and believes in keeping all windows open, even in the most frightfully cold conditions.

"Put a sweater on," she yells when we beg her to close them, and turn on the heater. What I've learned to do is stayed curled up in a wool blanket until my father final convinces her to come to her senses.

Another thing: my cute, albeit thin, t-shirts and sun dresses aren't exactly what you call sensible clothing for winter. Oh yes, there's tons of cute,

warm clothes in the shops to help me with this problem. But really the problem lies in finding the motivation to get out of my cosy blanket and brave the weather conditions. However, once outside, I buff up and actually start to enjoy being outside; sometimes, I even get the

sensation that I'm "warm." Warm meaning slight feeling in the feet, and only numbness in the fingers.

Despite my complaining, the weather of Istanbul fits Istanbul. When I'm walking through the freezing drizzle and I see people bundle up like snowmen, I get a feeling inside that can only be felt when everything seems to fit perfectly. The grey skies, the muddy puddles in the cobble

stone streets, the mass of dark, heavy coats, it's all a part of Istanbul, it makes up its core. This isn't to say it's a sad, dreary place. On the contrary,

it's vibrant and full of life but at the same time, it has a certain melancholy to it, something you can't quite place a finger on. This melancholiness isn't overwhelming, and it's most certainly not bad; it's just always there. It's the perfect mix of these feelings that makes Istanbul what it is: absolutely wonderful.