Seasons

I can’t explain why, but 30 degrees in Neiva feels different to 30 degrees at home. When it reaches 20 degrees in Bangor, families start heading to the beach and lighting the barbecues. You never know how long an Irish summer will last, so you have to make the most of every sunray.

Having experienced highs of 40 degrees week on week, the current 32 average feels glorious. I’ve seen students wearing jackets and hoodies. I overheard a colleague saying they were cold. I wouldn’t go as far to say it’s cold, but it somehow feels cooler than a British heatwave.

Colombia is relatively close to the equator, so it doesn’t experience a four-season cycle. Instead, it has dry and wet periods (we’re currently in the latter). Now, that’s not to say everywhere in Colombia is one temperature. Whilst Neiva is known for being an oven, Bogotá has a much cooler and typically overcast climate. Medellín is actually nicknamed the ‘City of Eternal Spring’ for its generally pleasant weather. And it’s because of these varied yet steady climates and the diverse topography of the country that Colombia is able to produce an abundance of tropical fruits and coffee all year round. It’s wonderfully unique and means I can enjoy all the mangoes I want without the price tag and eco-guilt that comes with buying them in the UK.

However, with Halloween passed and Christmas drawing closer, the lack of seasons has become more apparent. Time continues to move but the world looks the same. There are always flowers and green trees. There’s no change in my wardrobe. There’s no autumnal harvest or first signs of frost. Not even the lengths of day change: the sun rises at 6am and sets exactly twelve hours later, at 6pm. They’re optimal conditions for constant production. And whilst this is efficient on an economical level, it’s completely counterproductive on a psychological one. Life has seasons; we can’t always be growing fruit. We need time to harvest and enjoy the product of our efforts. We need time to hibernate and regather our energy. And we also need time to grow and transform, so that we can be effectively productive once again.

Coming from a culture of seasons, I can’t help but feel mentally stuck in the fixed summer of Neiva. When the heavy rains began and the temperature dropped, I realised I’d been waiting for an Autumn that would never come. The shops have been selling Christmas decorations since September, but without the numbing feeling in my fingertips, the biting cold in my cheeks and the white cloud of breath every time I exhale, it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Of course, this is one of the many forms of culture shock and it’s part of the travelling experience. Learning to accept and adapt to these changes is how we grow.

I’ve had to find that seasonal change within me. To know when to move and create and when to rest and reflect. To cultivate patience and recognise the benefits of slowing down. I’ve also been nurturing and sowing the seeds for next year. Now, whilst I wait for those to germinate, I plan to make the most of these cooler temperatures in Neiva with some extra warm coffees and a stroll through the ceiba tree leaves.