The refrigerated tourist

I never learn.

Jan 11, 2024

“I did warn you.”

My friend’s words were stern, but her eyes smiling. I threw up my hands in mock resignation and we both guffawed at my ridiculous situation, our laughter ringing through the convenience store where we’d come seeking warmth after dinner on a cold October night in Seoul, South Korea.

Earlier that day, while sat working in a café, I’d received a text message from my friend: Dress warmly today. But by that point it was too late. I’d left my AirBnB several hours earlier and, basing my wardrobe choice on the mild morning weather, I was wearing a light jacket over a long-sleeved top and a pair of jeans, perfect for the double-digit temperature of a pleasant autumnal day.

But then—and this came as a surprise only to the one person who didn’t check the weather forecast before leaving the house (i.e. me)—the mild autumn morning devolved into a merciless winter evening. The temperature was now in single digits, and closer to zero than ten.

“You won’t forget to check the forecast before leaving the house again?”

I smiled. “I’ve learnt my lesson. Never again.”

The eternal cold

I sit shivering on the balcony of our hotel room in Luang Prabang, cursing myself. Why did I not bring any warm clothes? What I’d give to have my hoodie, my long-sleeved tops, my socks, even my woollen hat and gloves.

It’s Christmas Eve and winter has arrived in full force to this sleepy—now also freezing—Laotian town. Not wanting to repeat my Seoul rookie mistake, I did dutifully check the weather forecast a few weeks before our trip. Upon seeing the figures—high in the 30s, low in the 10s—I decided winter in Luang Prabang would be mild enough for a light jacket—the very one I wore that fateful morning in Seoul—and one pair of jeans. I contemplated bringing my hoodie, a thicker jacket, long-sleeved tops—and like a fool decided not to. Surely it won’t get that cold—it’s South East Asia! I probably won’t even get to wear the light jacket I’m bringing.

How wrong I was. One day after arriving, the temperature dropped to below 10 degrees in the morning, and I found myself shivering in my short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts, the only clothes I brought for sleeping in. The days did warm up as the sun rose higher in the sky, but my light jacket provided scant protection against the piercing winds and I had to wear three layers to feel human. Three days in, I ran out of socks and had to buy overpriced ones from a winter clothes store on the main street that clearly catered to desperate, underdressed tourists such as myself.

And the ridiculous thing is: this isn’t the second time I find myself unprepared for the cold—it’s the third. A year earlier I’d visited Hoi An in January and—completely ignorant that a) it’s the middle of winter and b) it gets cold in Central Vietnam—packed only t-shirts and shorts. My (sensible) partner had to lend me his windbreaker so I’d stop shivering while having breakfast on our draughty balcony.

Seriously, Val. When will you learn?

A mistake I keep making

By this point, I’ve made the same wardrobe miscalculation so many times you’d almost think I’m doing it intentionally. I’m myself amazed at my incredible ineptitude.

And I haven’t a clue why.

I am a very organised person, always prepared, always ready. I make detailed packing lists for every single vacation, even weekenders. It’s rare that I go on a trip without having tried on every single combination of clothing in my suitcase.

Yet, time and time again, I find myself freezing and miserable.

That first time in Hoi An, I can chalk up to inexperience. I hadn’t been to Central Vietnam in winter. I had no idea how cold it could get. Even the second time in Seoul, I can blame ignorance. This was only my second visit to Korea. I had no idea how fast-changing the weather could be.

But this third time in Luang Prabang, deciding not to bring any winter gear despite knowing full well it’s situated on the same latitude as provinces in Northern Thailand I wouldn’t dream of visiting without warm clothes this time of year?

How I didn’t put two and two together is beyond me.

For someone who writes a newsletter called Val Thinks, I sure can’t seem to get my head screwed on straight when it comes to dressing for the weather.

And I haven’t even told you about that time I bought a pair of unlined leather Chelsea boots thinking they’d be sufficient for a London winter…

What do you think?

Today’s newsletter is no deep rumination on the meaning of life. I was just so [expletive] cold on our hotel balcony I felt compelled to write about it. But I still have a question for you:

Is there a mistake you keep making in life?

What lesson can you never seem to learn? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this with someone who’ll find my repeated mistakes amusing.