Feels Like

The weather forecast of the soul | Non-Fiction | Fresh Soup

Before moving to Berlin my life was a lot simpler, at least meteorologically speaking. In Tel Aviv, every morning before Lev and I left for school, I would glance at the weather forecast and dress accordingly. In other words, I would look at the forecast to confirm my hunch that it was going to be hot, and then put on a t-shirt and sandals. But German winters, it turns out, are a lot more complicated and ambiguous than Israeli ones, and so when you check the forecast, the temperature itself is almost meaningless. It could be a tolerable 3 degrees Celsius, but because of the rain and winds it feels like negative 8. Berlin neophytes very quickly learn that the numerical temperature is about as reliable as a politician’s word, and that the only thing that really matters is what it “feels like.”