First Snow

“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.”
 Andrew Wyeth 
 
I saw snow for the first time in 2001 in Vancouver. I awoke one morning to find a much whiter world than the night before and the tiny feathery flakes were still falling. You’d have thought all my Christmases had come at once. I was the total stereotype: I frolicked, I made snow angels, had a snowball fight with my cousin and I’m pretty certain I was giggling the whole time.

 

Morning Snow

 

 

By midday it was raining (it was Vancouver after all) and I walked home from work through muddy slush. I didn’t care. I had finally seen my first snowfall. Vancouver is just a perfect place for a family vacation in winter.  You can truly experience what winter is really like.
 
10 years, and literally mountains of snow later, the novelty still hasn’t worn off. I still get just as excited as I did that first day. Granted, I have never experienced a Russian winter, where the temperatures can plummet to -30 degrees Celcius or lower. It gets so cold that houses have double window panes to keep out the cold and the gap between the two windows is used to keep things like Vodka chilled in winter. A little different to what we are used to in Australia.
 
 
© Prague

 

 

 

It was snowing the day I arrived in Prague. The flight from London had been tedious, not least because I had spent the latter part attempting to placate a man who was beside himself at the fact that I had chosen to visit the Czech Republic in winter.

 

“But you just can’t visit Prague in winter. Summer is absolutely the only time to visit Prague”, he insisted.

 

Hordes of tourists, endless queues, summer temperatures? Sounds like my idea of hell actually. But he was relentless. He told me I was crazy (so charming) and was convinced I was going to have a rotten time.

I knew he was wrong the moment it snowed.

 

The afternoon of our arrival, wandering through Starè Mêsto (the old town), there was that familiar bitter chill in the air when it’s just moments away from snowing. And it really was just moments later that those first few weary snowflakes landed on my face. The exhaustion from the 24 hour transit from Australia seemed to dissipate and we settled in with a mug of Svarak (mulled wine) flavoured with nutmeg and cinnamon whilst watching the snow fall.

 

 

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