Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Warmer winters?
Whether or not it is due to global climate change, I've noticed changes in the weather compared to last year's, both in Tokyo and in Singapore.
For example, Frosty the snowman was noticeably late this winter. Last year in Tokyo we experiened snowfall that accumulated and caused trains to be delayed; this year, hardly any snow and even when it came, it was more frozen rain than anything. Outside my window on the 34th floor, big snowflakes drifted down one day, occasionally hastened by the wind. But they melted as soon as they landed. Even a solitary bird that was forlornly flapping around in the midst of the snow shower didn't seemed too bothered.
In Singapore, the monsoon winds were supposed to bring rain at the end of January. Instead, there was scarcely a drop of precipitation, resulting in a strangely cool and breezy Chinese New Year.
Elsewhere, the pattern seemed reversed. When I went to Sapporo, it snowed heavily for an entire week, making Niseko's slopes the best I had tumbled down in Japan so far. It was cold. Apparently when Hokkaido residents discuss the temperature in winter, the "minus" prefix is implied.
In the southern reaches of the Izu peninsula, plum trees were supposed to bloom in mid-January; instead, the annual Plum Blossom Festival got extended due to a no-show by the flowers, all the way until this weekend when I went. And even now, they haven't reached the peak. The open-air onsen overlooking the sea was great though.
And of course people have been telling me about the snowstorms in the Northeast of the United States. That made me remember fondly the frozen walk late at night from the lab to my apartment back in my college days. The pavement would be slick with ice, flanked by neat forts of snow that the plows had built. Sometimes, a mischevious wind would dance in front of Webster Hall, stirring up fresh snow and launching pretty little snow tornados.
What would life be like without the four seasons?
For example, Frosty the snowman was noticeably late this winter. Last year in Tokyo we experiened snowfall that accumulated and caused trains to be delayed; this year, hardly any snow and even when it came, it was more frozen rain than anything. Outside my window on the 34th floor, big snowflakes drifted down one day, occasionally hastened by the wind. But they melted as soon as they landed. Even a solitary bird that was forlornly flapping around in the midst of the snow shower didn't seemed too bothered.
In Singapore, the monsoon winds were supposed to bring rain at the end of January. Instead, there was scarcely a drop of precipitation, resulting in a strangely cool and breezy Chinese New Year.
Elsewhere, the pattern seemed reversed. When I went to Sapporo, it snowed heavily for an entire week, making Niseko's slopes the best I had tumbled down in Japan so far. It was cold. Apparently when Hokkaido residents discuss the temperature in winter, the "minus" prefix is implied.
In the southern reaches of the Izu peninsula, plum trees were supposed to bloom in mid-January; instead, the annual Plum Blossom Festival got extended due to a no-show by the flowers, all the way until this weekend when I went. And even now, they haven't reached the peak. The open-air onsen overlooking the sea was great though.
And of course people have been telling me about the snowstorms in the Northeast of the United States. That made me remember fondly the frozen walk late at night from the lab to my apartment back in my college days. The pavement would be slick with ice, flanked by neat forts of snow that the plows had built. Sometimes, a mischevious wind would dance in front of Webster Hall, stirring up fresh snow and launching pretty little snow tornados.
What would life be like without the four seasons?
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