I recently saw an advertisement for pomegranate juice which played up its antioxidants: "Cheat death," it said. I can relate. Drinking this blood-colored liquid gives you a little thrill, every sip violating the laws of nature, pushing death a little further away.
I had the same feeling on the beach at Coney Island in April. But it wasn't death I was cheating, it was the cold. The deep, stabbing, endless cold of the Mongolian winter.
But at Coney Island I saw the first bikini-clad woman of the year, and my kids played in the sand in bathing suits. Meanwhile, in Mongolia, it was still falling to -20°C at night. I felt like I was cheating. I also had the feeling that I wouldn't get away with it for very long.
You can't cheat death forever. Nor can you cheat the cold, if you live in Mongolia. So play while you can.
By September, it will be back.