Ode To My Soba

“I was still cold: not the pleasant, temporary cold of the West, where you get warm as soon as going indoors; but the grinding, continuous cold of Eastern Europe, where your stomach and ribs ache from clenching your muscles for hours on end, bent over, trying to keep warm.”
– Robert Kaplan, Balkan Ghosts

I stand corrected; this has been the coldest week of the winter. Although my entire life has been filled with far more frigid winters in the Land of 10,000 Lakes the cold I experience here is on an entirely different plane. Until now, I’ve never had the good fortune of being able to walk to all my daily destinations. It makes for a less stressful commute, not to mention having to worry on those cold mornings whether or not the car is going to start or if all the doors are going to be frozen shut so you have to climb in through the miniature hatchback window. Back at home, I never had the luxury of a garage but even so, once I got all those car windows scraped I could get out of the biting nip and sip my hot coffee while I waited (or most likely didn’t) for all the windows to defrost before heading out. After finally arriving at work, school, the mall or anywhere really…I could best be assured that I would be greeted by a ridiculously overheated building (unless of course it was my father’s home). So really, winter boots, big jackets, snow pants and long underwear were reserved for outdoor activities and well, quite frankly, old folks. However, I now bear all just to go into my bathroom. After a brisk walk to the foundation or school, one is not necessarily welcomed by a great sense of warmth (in terms of temperature); and it’s not uncommon for people to keep their winter gear on inside throughout the day. Yet, I don’t have any complaints because this is what I have been waiting for…the frosted trees that are absolutely breathtaking and the squeaking snow under my footsteps. Perhaps I’m still cold but quite content.

Even though I struggled with my soba (mostly on account of wet wood) my first winter, and slowly accepted the early onset rheumatism the continuous cold brought, I fell in love with the ceramic tower. The adoration has only grown now that I have mastered the ole girl (AKA I have dry wood). Except on the days with Sub-Siberian temps, the clenching muscles are now set aside for shower days, however sparse they may be. But even then, I have my soba awaiting with warm socks and undies!

Okay, it’s true. I really did try to write an actual Ode to My Soba but it was beyond lame and I will not display it to the world…I frown upon my lack of creativity.