Heat rises—when
you have it
Commentary
by JoELLEN COLLINS
Recently I
moved back into the first apartment I occupied in October when I began
living in a renovated farmhouse in Italy. I lived there for a couple of
months until the mice I shared my rooms with wouldn’t go away and
because the downstairs became dark when I could no longer leave the wooden
doors open to let in the sunlight.
The second,
an upstairs apartment, is smaller and has more windows, letting in more
daylight. It is also absent mice but is, alas, very cold. The old maxim
that heat rises doesn’t seem to apply, for several reasons. The unit,
located on the coolest side of the building, is composed of old brick
walls which retain cold, and the door is smaller than the space it
occupies, thus letting in icy drafts of air all the time. I have learned
to stuff papers in it at night and cover the gaps with makeshift fillers
such as my wool scarves and a dustpan wedged under the door.
Unfortunately, this is a place designed for summer visitors, and the
frigid air still comes up the interior steps and is reflected on the
thermostat at the top of the stairwell
Thus, when
my landlady offered me the chance to move back to my former digs, I was
thrilled, as they have since been fitted with glass doors set inside the
charming old wood farm doors, enabling me to let in the sun and keep in
the heat. Even with these additions, I am still cold, and have found that
a small space heater makes my daily life more comfortable. I am learning
some tricks I will use to conserve energy when I return to Idaho.
Of course,
I dress warmly and layer. Nonetheless I am colder that I remember being,
even in snowy Idaho. It reminds me of the old Mark Twain saw about the
coldest winter he remembered being the summer he spent in San Francisco.
This European winter has been the coldest in ten years. Although the crisp
beauty of the city made the shivering worth it, New Years’ week in
Venice was a chilling experience: reports of the canals icing were not
exaggerated. Venice, of course, was damp, but so is the Umbrian/Tuscan
countryside where I reside. I love the sight of the mists and fog every
morning out my window, but I think being used to the dry cold of Idaho has
made for a more difficult adjustment.
All this
might be bearable if the costs of heating were more manageable. I pay $3
an hour for the heat in my small apartment, and it adds up quickly. My
landlords aren’t gouging me, either: this is what heat costs in Italy.
The high tariff is evident in my local "supermarket," where
there is no heat and where the checkers wear parkas, wool hats and scarves
and still manage to smile.
One of my
housemates during my stay in Siena was a young woman who spent an
excessive amount of time in the shower, "hogging" the bathroom
shared by four women. I realized later that she was charged for the heat
in her room but not for the water heat, so this was probably the only time
she could feel warm. I was not billed for my radiator emissions because I
lived there for a brief two weeks. As it was, my Siena landlord only
allowed us heat from 9 to 11 each night, so we all felt the chill.
Additionally,
driving a motor vehicle in Italy may also be prohibitive for many, as the
cost of fuel is easily three times what it is in Idaho. Now I understand
why so many Europeans depend on bicycles or motor scooters or drive small
cars and use diesel engines whenever possible. I had a vision of myself
(one since corrected by reality) of using public transportation or a
bicycle most of the time I lived here. Since I am not known for my sense
of balance, and since the distances between the places I want to go are
farther than I expected, it would have been laughable to rely on a bike or
scooter. I am fortunate that my landlady’s father has a Ford dealership
and rented me a small car for a very reasonable amount.
Living in
Italy has reminded me of the luxuries we in the USA enjoy regarding
energy. I used to complain about winter heating bills, but now they don’t
seem quite so large. I also have more empathy for people who can’t
afford adequate heat. My heart goes out especially to the elderly who can’t
install better double-paned windows or other energy-saving devices
available to those with more money. It must be tough to be old and poor in
Idaho, a concept I always held but which has now been reinforced. When I
come home I hope I will think twice about some of the things we have in
America: our gas guzzlers, our huge homes, our disregard of the finite
resources we have. One of the delights, of course, that awaits my return
is my own built-in electric blanket, my two small dogs. There is a reason
a cold night is called a "three dog night.’ So Oscar and Olivia, my
doggies, here I come!