Thursday, March 14, 2013

In the Midst of a Canadian Blizzard

Being from Los Angeles I think of snow as some mythical substance which may or may not have existed during the ice ages. I try not to venture outside if it drops below 65 Fahrenheit, and that would make Montreal an eternal prison for me with their Arctic circle weather. A few days before I arrived the temperature was to a bone chilling -32 C.
I had never experienced a real snow storm, just a few flurries while I lived in Prague. Here it falls like a confetti machine on midnight on New Year’s Eve, only colder. I stick out my tongue hoping a snowflake lands on my tongue; my thirst is instantly quenched by these heavenly waters.

I comment about the blizzard outside to some locals. They laugh. “Blizzard?” they question me, “Have you never been in snow before?”
I don’t answer the question. “If this isn’t a blizzard, what is it on a 1-10 snow scale?”
“About a 4,” they all reply in their French Canadian accents.
“A four?!!” I am truly shocked. It’s as if they all non-chalantly told me that they commute via spaceship to the Nebula Galaxy for work every day and the view of Planet Earth from space is a daily occurrence. I simply have no reference point for their descriptions of what a blizzard is really like.

I might not go outside, but I am becoming more worldly. 




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