'Deep cold' or 'balmy autumn' - two takes on 17 C show value of empathy

"Here in winter the temperature can drop to as low as 17 C, and then it's really cold."

For someone from Hong Kong, the first reaction to this is disbelief and bemusement. In Hong Kong, a temperature of 17 degrees Celsius is usually a mild and comfortable autumn day, when most of the time it is sunny and breezy.

"Do you have to use down jackets when it gets 'that' cold?" This casual question pops up, out of genuine curiosity and a slight teasing that one can feel chilly at 17 C!

"Yes, we do wear downs, but only light ones." Then an additional explanation to validate the feeling of severe cold associated with 17 C temperature. Visitors from faraway places with really cold winters of snow and minus-zero-degree temperature, such as Germany, feel the same way. "They would say that 17 C temperature in our country feels very different from in their home country. They said it felt cold indeed when the temperature got that low."

A further illustration follows. "In a cold winter, my family and I use a plastic sheet to cover the quilts we sleep in, to keep warm. The next morning, we find the plastic sheet is moist."

"Infants suffer especially from the cold. When they haven't learned to speak, they can't tell the adults they feel cold at night. My wife and I had to dress the kids with warmer clothes in the middle of the night - when we woke up and realized it was too cold for them."

Then the ultimate illumination which defuses any lingering doubts. "Perhaps people who live in concrete-built apartments have never experienced this," in contrast with living in a simple shed in rural Cambodia.

This exercise of gaining a fresh understanding took place during my recent trip to the popular Cambodian tourist and world-heritage site Angkor Wat. We hired a local driver, a 42-year-old father of three young children.

It struck me as profound, to experience a full circle of information exchange, from outright dismissal (What you just said sounds hard to believe. How can 17 C count as chilly?), to skepticism (You said other people confirmed to you that 17 C was indeed cold. I don't know them. They may have said so, and they may not), then an empathic revelation (It must be cold when people, for lack of better means, have to use plastic sheets to cover their quilts to go to sleep. Awful for young children), and finally, an exposure of my own narrow-mindedness (There is a world of difference when it comes to sensitivity to cold weather, for urbanites living in comfortable apartments and those living in crude rural dwellings.)

The discussion was over in a few minutes. But it changed my perspective, and made me a bit more introspective not to reject notions just because they sound foreign and contrary to my knowledge.

I was confronted by my own limited knowledge and experience. And this humbling realization can be elevating. It is mind-opening to understand that two starkly different points of view can both be valid, even if they seem the exact opposite.

And it is a perfect example of the value of having communication and dialogue. The conversation with the driver went on in a directionless manner. It was a spontaneous interaction. I did not intend to seek any illumination from this particular exchange. And the driver certainly did not try to give me a moral lesson about open-mindedness, when he shared trivialities in his life.

As the dialogue continues, more information comes in. This strengthens the basis for us to process new ideas with a richer context and greater accuracy. Then we can reconcile the discord between familiar knowledge and a new realization - and refresh our perspective.

Through this process, the emotional distance, doubt and prejudice that peppers the conversation in the beginning can be gradually replaced by empathy, mutual understanding and respect.

(HK Edition 12/04/2017 page8)