Winter in Beijing is deceptively cold. An absolute minimum of about -10 Celsius may not sound too bad to true cold-weather veterans, but it discounts the effect of the gale-force Siberian winds I encounter riding to and from my university; by some quirk of meteorology, I run into headwinds in both directions. I’m not sure if the psychological factor of knowing the wind has just blown in from Krasnoyarsk by way of Ulaanbaatar plays any part in it, but it does feel colder than should reasonably be expected.

The dodgy centralised heating system in my apartment over which I have absolutely no control doesn’t help, though it adds an element of surprise to my daily routine. It neatly encompasses all that is wrong with the idea of a command economy, providing either precisely the wrong service at precisely the wrong time, or going into Stakhanovite heating overdrive and turning my apartment into a blast furnace, even with all windows open, on the coldest days of winter.

In the face of the cold and astonishingly monochromatic winter, it helps to remember that there are beautiful times and places in this city. While going through some older files today, I rediscovered a small video I took last October while riding around the Houhai area. Nothing much, just a pleasant reminder of greener times.