I should have thought of it before we got off the airplane, since this came up all the time 5 years ago, but I was still surprised that the first thing anyone said to me when we got off the airplane in Kyrgyzstan was to worry that my family was going to freeze to death. I think at least one child was in shorts, another was likely in sandals, and no one had a coat on. We had a crowd of people around us who seemed certain we would all freeze to death between the airport and our taxi.
Then when oldest son burned his foot a few days later and a nurse came over to look at it, there was far more concern that the family was running around the house with, at most, one layer on, instead of the necessary two or three. I figured I wouldn't point out that oldest son would have been in shorts if he hadn't just been outside, and I very obediently put socks on while the nurse was in the house.
Some friends of ours dropped off a bunch of socks later that afternoon. Good thing they're not checking to see if we're wearing them. Because, honestly, a 60-degree house in a sunny and dry place feels warmer than a 64-degree house in dark, damp Seattle.
So much more to write. I live in the coolest house.