With Cheeks the Color of a Baboon's Backside

Much like our canine friend the chihuahua, I am not made for the cold. Blame it on my lifelong acclimation to muggy Virginia summers, my Mediterranean roots, or just general wimpiness. If the temperature dips below 70 degrees (21 degrees Celsius for all my metric system readers), I'm probably chilly. In fact, I'm usually so cold in my apartment that I wrap myself head to toe in blankets like a polar burrito (as seen on the right).

Why then, you may ask, do I plan so many trips that require the following packing considerations:
"I wonder how many pairs of thermal underwear I can fit under these jeans."
"I should probably own more faux fur."
"Is my coat puffy enough to protect against moose antlers?"

The reason? Offseason travel. Sure, you can empty your wallet to escape winter at a crowded tropical beach. But why do that when you can spend pennies to risk frostbite alone in the tundra? Here are three reasons I take the cold-weather option.

1. I travel with Pulpo, the human furnace. While I'm concerned with my ears turning black and dropping off my head, Pulpo is flapping his jacket open in the wind like a flightless bird trying to cool off. Conveniently, I can use him to syphon off body heat like an iguana on a hot rock.

2. Traveling in the depths of winter really is much less expensive. Places that are completely unaffordable in nice weather are suddenly dirt cheap. All you have to do is wade through four feet of snow to get to your hotel room.

3. Here are some things you can only do in winter: Go on a sleigh ride through a herd of elk. See bison clearing the snow with their heads. Be the only visitors at Blarney Castle. Stay in a luxury hotel for $95 a night. And last but not least, drink something called a hot apple pie toddy. (Obviously these are not all at the same place. Do not go looking for bison or cocktails at Blarney Castle. You will not find any.)

And sometimes the practical reasons go right out the window, because winter is spectacular all on its own. Like in Wyoming. Yes, the temperature is -5 degrees (-20 Celsius). Yes, you're vaguely concerned that your frozen toes may fall off when you remove your boots later. Yes, your wind-burned cheeks have turned a shade of scarlet typically seen only on the back end of a baboon. And yes, you're on a snowmobile at dawn looking like an arctic storm trooper, wearing a giant helmet and person-shaped padded snowsuit. But isn't it worth it, when this is what you're sitting in the middle of:

Of course, people will still think you're crazy. When you return from your travels, they will most likely say something to the effect of "Didn't you just freeze?" or "Seriously? Who goes there in January?" And you will be able to hold your head high, with your cheeks the color of a baboon's backside, and say "I do. I go there in January."