Ah, yes. You have made it. You have traded the oppressive, sweaty embrace of Abu Dhabi’s heat for brisk, crispy air. Or, as you will come to know it, the land of frostbite, wind chills, and an everlasting quest to figure out what in the world layering really means. But do not worry. With a little adaptation (and a lot of sarcasm), you too can survive your new life in a place where the snow is “nice” and the cold is… well, it is just a whole other animal.

Let us break this down.

Coming from the UAE, you are probably used to wearing clothes that, for the most part, cover about 30% of your body (because why would you need more in 50 degrees Celsius heat?). You have spent your life avoiding even the thought of fabric touching your skin for more than a second. And now? Well, now you are about to become the human equivalent of a duvet. When it comes to dressing for Washington (or any other country) winters, the motto is clear: layer up until you can not bend your knees or elbows. You are not just “putting on a coat” here. You are entering a whole new world where jackets, scarves, and hats are just the tip of the iceberg. But hey, at least you will not freeze to death!

Start with a thermal base layer. This is a fancy way of saying “Do not wear cotton” unless you enjoy feeling like you are inside a human-sized freezer. Trust me, a wet cotton shirt clinging to your skin in sub-zero temperatures is exactly as pleasant as it sounds. Add a couple of woolen sweaters on top—because why not? They’re cute. You will need a good four-five layers just to leave the house, and if you are lucky, maybe your breath will be visible by the time you are ready to go outside.

But be warned: even when you think you are done layering, you will look at yourself in the mirror and say, “Am I done? Or should I add one more?” The answer is yes, add another, and then just hope you can still move your arms. This is a no-shame zone. If you thought living in the US in a cute, aesthetic part of town that looks like Stars Hollow meant that you would get to embrace your inner Lorelai Gilmore with cozy winter outfits, think again. Like, really rub your two brain cells together and think of the consequences. On the East Coast, the only thing you are embracing is the Michelin Man in you.

Now that you have got 18 layers of clothing on, you will step inside your new home, and, surprise, the inside is just as cold as the outside. Oh, do not get too excited about the heating system. If you thought your unit would automatically crank out warmth, think again there too. There is a good chance it will wait until the temperature drops to minus 13 degrees Celsius before it even thinks about turning on. Special shoutout to NYU Washington’s heating system for doing just that <3. We woke up to find our heating system was as reliable as a vending machine at three A.M.

Do not panic! That is why they invented space heaters. If you are lucky not to live in student housing, your landlord will have provided a couple of them to keep you from huddling in front of your stove like a scene from The Great Depression. But let us be real here: those things only work when you are sitting within a two-inch radius of them, and even then, it is mostly just burning your legs while your upper body freezes. Still, it is better than nothing. If you want to survive, you need to embrace the idea of being simultaneously too hot and too cold.

Let us talk about something you will need to learn in order to make any sense of this cold. You have lived your whole life measuring temperatures in Celsius, right? 50 degrees celcius is unbearable, and 20 degrees Celcius is “nice and cool.” But then, you land in Washington, D.C., and the weather reports start flooding your brain with temperatures like “31 degrees Fahrenheit” or “minus five degrees Fahrenheit,” and you are left staring at your screen in disbelief, thinking, What is this sorcery?

Well, here is the first thing you need to understand: Fahrenheit is, quite frankly, nonsense. It was clearly created by someone (an American) who had no idea what “logic” or “standardized units of measurement” meant. It is like a quirky little code that makes you feel both dumb and terrified. “31 degrees Fahrenheit? I do not know what that is, but it has got to be bad, right?” Here is a quick cheat sheet to help you avoid hyperventilating when trying to figure out if you are about to die from cold or if it is just a “chilly” day:

32 degrees Fahrenheit = 0 degrees Celsius (freezing point, aka a place you will want to avoid as much as possible). 40 degrees Fahrenheit = 4 degrees Celsius (light jacket weather for your first few weeks here; you’re in for a rude awakening soon). 50 degrees Fahrenheit = 10 degrees Celsius (ideal weather for someone who is still pretending they know how to live in this strange world).

Do not even attempt to memorize these; just remember to use a conversion app on your phone at all times. Google can help, but your brain will never truly understand Fahrenheit. It’s one of those mysteries of the universe—like how people in D.C. think 50 degrees Fahrenheit is “warm.”

Ah, snow. The white fluffy stuff that you have only ever seen in Instagram photos while you sip iced coffee in Abu Dhabi. It is magical at first, right? That perfect winter wonderland where everything looks like a Hallmark movie. Then you step outside for the first time, and your optimism is shattered. “I am going to walk through this snow like I am in a snow globe,” you tell yourself, only to fall flat on your face after three steps because you forgot that snow is the devil’s ice.

Here’s a tip: learn how to walk in snow. Trust me, you don’t just “walk through it.” You waddle. You shuffle. You pray. It is an art, and it requires a specific technique that only seasoned snow veterans know. Bonus points if you have mastered the art of not slipping on icy sidewalks, because nothing screams “local” more than walking with the grace of a penguin.

In conclusion, D.C. winters are a cruel, cruel thing to experience after growing up in a place where “winter” means “mildly pleasant evenings” and “I’m still wearing a t-shirt and shorts.” But with some serious layering, a reliable heating system, and the acceptance that snow is pretty from afar, you will get through it. Just remember to keep a flask of hot cocoa close, because nothing says “I have made it” more than sipping your warm drink while looking like a human burrito.

Good luck, and do not forget to Google the temperature in Celsius before you leave the house. You will thank me later.