Am I Cursed? Why Record-Breaking Cold Follows My Family
A look back at our first winter in Beijing—and why it feels suspiciously like our current one in Warsaw.
Beijing winters were unusually sunny and bright. The drab gray standard in Europe was surprisingly infrequent in the Chinese capital. Of course, there were still days with a noticeable pollution-induced haze on the horizon, though those were becoming increasingly rare.
As we entered the winter months, we were told to expect a dry and frigid climate. Wind would sweep over the Yanshan and Taihang Mountains, cutting through your layers, freezing you to your core.
The air wasn’t just cold; it was electrically dry. The lack of humidity turned every metal surface into a weapon—every touch into a potential shock. And every time we came home to peel ourselves out of our winter clothing, a chorus of snaps, crackles, and pops serenaded us. We quickly learned to limit the stinging snap of static electricity that plagued the city until the spring rains arrived.
Beijing’s arid winters meant there would be very little chance of snow. I’m a four-seasons type of guy, so a winter without it seemed miserable at best. And besides, the Chinese capital had hosted the Winter Olympics just two years before. One could hope, I told myself.
To everyone’s surprise, a heavy blanket of snow fell during our first few weeks in December. But as with most busy cities, heavy commuter traffic meant the main roads became a slushy mess.
The sidewalks were treacherous and rarely shoveled. At times, we took our chances walking in the street, where the slap of our footsteps mixed with the hiss of car tires on wet asphalt—a distinct, wet soundtrack for our morning commute.
Within a few days, pathways were shoveled off, and small snow piles dotted the streetscape. They stuck around until the spring thaw, however, a gentle reminder one could never predict the weather with any certainty.
It turned out that our first winter in Beijing had been their coldest on record. Which makes sense, I suppose, because the Liangma had frozen over and was solid enough for folks to spend afternoons ice skating on it. Parents skated, pulling kids in small saucer-type sleds. Young girls practicing their jumps and twists, dreaming of Olympic gold. And others simply sliding around because they could.
We weren’t as lucky the second winter. Not as much snow, but at least the temperatures weren’t as frigid. The river didn’t freeze that year. Even if it had, there was no chance you’d catch me out there sliding around like the locals.
So, it was all a bit too coincidental when, in Warsaw, after being told snow was rare, we spent much of our Christmas holiday staring out the window with our children as the snow fell. And just last weekend, forecasters predicted the coldest day on record.
I try not to read too much into things, but it would be hilarious if, at our next post, we set a cold-weather record there, too. Though now that the snow and cold have stuck around our home in Warsaw since late December, going from several inches of fluffy snow to packed ice sprinkled with sand that gets absolutely everywhere, I might be ready for a few years without it.
But I know I’ll miss it too, especially when the kids are old enough to spend a little more time outside than they can now.
Be honest: Are you a ‘four-seasons’ person who loves the snow, or would you trade it all for year-round heat?
Let me know if you’re Team Winter or Team Summer.
Four seasons for sure. I like long, hot Summers, and snowy Winters (although frigid isn't nice, but anything is better than Seattle's endless grey). It's been unbelievably cold and snowy here in Austria too, probably the same systems you've been getting in Warsaw. Finally yesterday it was mild (10C/50F) and all the snow melted.
We were in Sopot in late April 2024. It went from sleet to 22C/72F in a matter of days. I even went swimming! Which was a mistake (water was still freezing).