A Carmel native reflects on life in the land of the polar vortex.

As the saying goes, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Or you’re gone.

I started my first semester of college this fall in Minnesota, the eventual center of the Polar Vortex. You don’t realize the very real effects of wind chill until your fingers are so cold you are physically unable to work a doorknob. Even scarier for college kids, it was too cold to text.

The dramatic change from California to Minnesota revealed what we’ve got in Carmel, and what Minnesota has to offer too. Here’s what I learned:

There is something poignant about looking at trees go through the seasons.

I’m not the first in human history to write about tree leaves changing, but Minnesota’s deserve an extra shout out. Watching the reds and golds for the first time was powerful. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, but I think the process is humbling in a way. Here are these near-eternal beings that have lived before you and will live on after you, growing and transforming before your eyes in slow motion with this ancient harmony. By the end of fall, the air swirls with leaves and everywhere you walk the crunch beneath your feet reminds you that you’re insignificant and your life is fleeting. They’re also just pretty.

The ocean rules.

OK, by-the-Sea is in the name of our town, but being in the Land of 10,000 Lakes was a good reminder how much the ocean blesses us. I missed the lights of fishing boats on the Monterey Bay in the morning and the prawns they caught for dinner. Sunsets are just better over the ocean. But I might miss the smells the most. From the salty bite of ocean air to the pungent Poseidon B.O. of rotting seaweed, the ocean is seemingly everywhere here, and it’s great to be reunited.

Minnesotans are another species.

Along with its state bird, the incomparable common loon (Gavia immer), Minnesota has another interesting species: the common Minnesotan (Gavia heyhowyadoin’). Minnesotans are both tougher and nicer than most Americans, living their lives as über-friendly, unphased conquerors of the weather in the Great White North Midwest. They seem to reflect the philosophy that there are far bigger things to worry about than being cool, so why not be friendly and welcoming in the meantime?

YOU DON’T REALIZE THE EFFECTS OF WIND CHILL UNTIL YOU ARE UNABLE TO WORK A DOOR KNOB.

Tater tots are the best cold weather food, hands down.

I’ve never been a tater tot guy. I ignored them like a parent does a middle child, favoring my dependable elder, mashed potatoes, and those precocious young French fries. This all changed in Minnesota. When you’re cold and hungry, you don’t want white mash – there’s something depressing about the formlessness – and you don’t want little strings of potato either. You need a brick of golden-brown comfort, warming with each greasy crunch, the hearty, unassuming food equivalent of a log stove.

Everyone else thinks Californians are wimps.

The rest of the country sees us as soft, easily bruised peaches when it comes to weather, and probably other challenges. One Montana friend offered me his trick for spotting Californians: They wear Michelin Man down jackets in the middle of fall as the rest of the country is basking in the autumn sun.

The Mississippi River lives up to the hype.

The ’sipper is every inch as magical as people say it is. From biking along the meandering riverfront in the explosive fall hues to admiring the river in its frozen splendor, the Mississippi rules.

The State Fair is awesome.

One of America’s largest, the Minnesota State Fair is literally a bucket of fun, as fresh cut fries and Sweet Martha’s famous cookies, among other things, can be enjoyed (and cause indigestion) by the literal bucket load. Then of course there’s the option of having essentially any piece of meat from the farm deep fried on a stick. Speaking of dripping animal parts, bonus points for visiting the livestock-themed Miracle of Birth Center. Lots of goo – mucus-covered calfs, loudly-suckling piglets – to love.

Fried cheese curds are God’s gift.

What do you get when you combine solid, soured milk and American ingenuity? Cheese curds. These glorious, gooey, deep-fried golf balls of cholesterol highlight the Midwest’s dairy scene.

You know what the Midwest is? Young and restless.

To some highfalutin coast-dwellers the Twin Cities can seem boring and predictable. On the contrary, the Twin Cities have a surprisingly diverse population – with the largest Somali-American and one of the largest gay communities in the country – plus a vibrant, indie culinary community; extreme bikeability; fiery, progressive politics; and a number of theater seats per capita that’s only trumped by New York.