How 'bout this weather?

First, apologies to my metric readers for using the imperial scale in the graphic. But without that gimmick, this post wouldn't work.

After 17 months in Berlin, I still don't speak German, the BBC is number one on my radio preset (with the newly created 104.1 NPR Berlin quickly coming up from behind) , and netgrocer.com loves me for my Campbell's soup and Goya refried bean orders.

Despite all these failures on the integration front, I have, in fact, gone metric. (Pats self on back.)

I know what a kilometer feels like to drive or walk. I LOVE my weight in kilograms. And the temperature readout in my brain and my car are both set to Celsius. (Ms. Mini still usually talks to me in English when giving directions, though. I say "usually" because her British persona is so bossy and chiding that I sometimes opt for the more seductive Mlle. Mini. "Tourner a droit en cent metres.")

Back on topic.

Almost all metric scales win hands down simply by virtue of being base 10. I was never great with fractions, but boy did I master those tens.

That said, I have come to realize that there's nothing about the Celsius scale that inherently recommends it over the Fahrenheit scale. Yeah, yeah: zero=freezing and 100=boiling. Nice and easy. But inbetween, where's the value added?

Frankly, I don't think Celsius is granular enough, and the natural "break points" (at the tens) don't match the way we actually experience the climate.

Let me give an example. In a very stilted, two-glasses-of-wine-in conversation, an American might say something like this: "When it's in the 60's, it's kind of cold, but ok, and I could totally deal with it if it were in the 70's every day. I like it to be in the 80's for those beach days, but I head inside when it hits 90. Anything over 100 is just cruel and requires a Dos Equis, shade, and perhaps a long nap." (Unless it's a dry heat, such as they have in Scotsdale, of course.)

Translated into Celsius, that same statement from a German becomes: "When it's between 16 and 21, I find it pleasantly brisk. I could live happily forever when it's between 22 and 26.5, and appreciate the range between 27 and 32 for days sunning at the beach, park, street corner, or frankly, anywhere. But I seek shelter when it hits 32.5. When we top 38, I grab my beer, run and hide."

You have to admit that the Fahrenheit version is more compact, and, more intriguingly, closer to a base 10 approach than the Celsius one.

Which leads me to believe that Daniel Fahrenheit -- German, by the way -- was more interested in the boiling point of humans than the boiling point of water, which to me makes his scale considerably more...well...human.

On either scale, spring has sprung in Berlin. The flowering trees and yellow shrubs (Yarrow? Anyone? Anyone?) have burst out in bloom. Fish are swimming in the lake at work. Leaves have grown to block the very distracting semaphoric signals the trees used to send during the winter drive to work. And skirts have been retrieved from whatever dark hell they are banished to during the cold months.

I have often discussed the virtues of continuous warmth (below 35 C/95 F, though, please) with friends brought up in colder climes. Dinner outside most of the year, no need to change or "layer" before running out to turn of the car alarm, long nights soaking in the smell of jasmine...

But -- frighteningly -- it turns out that I am, in fact, quickly losing my status as an intrinsically warm climate man, as shown by the table on the right. If I hadn't had the good luck to be born in Southern California, I'd technically be a cold weather guy. I have to assume that my sister is officially past the point of no return, mathematically. My only edge is that I'm younger, since we both rely on that So Cal adolescence to weight the average.

Fall colors be damned...I like the sun.

Now, if only my skin felt the same way.