Chasing Snowflakes

Beautifully warm San Francisco sunset yesterday

With all the national attention on the polar vortex, I'm feeling confused as I sit back and relax on my deck in 72°F January sunshine in San Francisco.

It might sound like I'm gloating, but despite the comfort, a part of me is longing for the coziness of sipping hot cocoa by a glowing fireplace while the freezing wind and snow blow wildly outside.

Glühwein stand at a magical Swiss "Christmas Market" in Chur, Dec. 2013

I'm longing to warm my hands and my stomach with a spicy Glühwein while awaiting with shivering anticipation the oozing, bubbling, stinky raclette that will emerge any moment from the adorable mini-chalet of a Christmas Market in a twinkling medieval Swiss alleyway.

Dramatization of Grandpa's cow story from the Montana winter of 1930

I'm longing to experience cold so cold that I can thrill future generations of my family with stories epic enough to stand by my grandfather's winter on the ranch in Montana in 1930 when, as he tells it, it was so freezing that he had to brave frostbite to rescue the cattle who were frozen solid to the ground... and he liked it! 

Sure, it's great to enjoy a warmth warmer than San Francisco's July while continuing to live in blissful ignorance of what exactly a snowblower is and why it has such a big blade if it is simply for "blowing snow." (A friend from Wisconsin kindly informed me that "blowing" is not a literal description of what this contraption does without a single "that's what she said").

Yet, my adventurous side feels a little sad and a little left out of this epic polar vortex that nearly every news channel and everyone on Reddit has drooled over for the last two weeks. It's like standing on the sidelines for the big game that people will be recounting to their grandchildren for years to come:

"In my day, we had such a bad snowstorm that it knocked out the internet!" 

"No internet! What! And...Mommy, what's snow?"

"It's that fluffy, cold white substance that used to fall from the sky back before the ice caps melted..."

"Oooohh. Weird! But...how did you live without internet?"

***************

When I mentioned at Christmas that I wished I knew what it was like to feel -15°F temperatures, my parents (originally from Ohio) laughed and said, "that's because you haven't."

They are probably right, but I also must point out that without such an experience, I can never join the machismo club of recounting cold-weather war stories..."I remember the time when it was so cold that my snot froze in my nose, my eyes froze shut, and then I dug out the wrong car!" 

It's not like I've been held up in California, wishing for cold while basking by the beach. No, with the noblest of adventurous intentions and the luckiest of external circumstances I was able to put my travel where my mouth was and made it to Switzerland and Chicago in December.

Enjoying Christmas snow in Zürich, 2012

This is the story of what came to pass:

Switzerland
Zürich, I thought, would be a sure win, since last year I went to Zürich in the first week of December and experienced tons of fluffy, beautiful, christmasy snow and an entire city enchanted by the cuteness of it all, despite the fact that they get to live with such cuteness every year.

Sadly (for me and not the local Swiss), this year it was warmer in Zürich that week than it was in San Francisco! But, never fear, I had a plan....

Zermatt transportation

With a smooth and civilized three-hour train ride hardly conceivable to those used to riding BART, my husband and I were on the other side of the country in the Southwest corner of the Swiss Alps. We were in Zermatt, the epitome of all that is wonderful about Switzerland in the winter -  unbelievably quaint horse-drawn sleighs and children being pulled down the streets on sleds, miles and miles of meandering pistes by the Matterhorn where skiers can pull over for a glühwein, and even a full-blown "glacier palace" at the top of 12,000 feet of silky-smooth, death-defying, architecturally marvelous funiculars.

Magical Zermatt at twilight

Yet moments after we walked 300 feet into the side of a mountain and took a sleek glass elevator up to the lobby, the innkeeper lamented that they could hardly stay in business with so little snow. It turned out that this year they were running ski pistes based on leftovers from just one storm in November. They had never seen it so warm in December - they were worried that all of the snow might melt before another storm. Sigh. 

The view from 12,000 feet

A place to scurry, the outdoor winter hot tub in Zermatt (2012)

But the bright side was quite bright (and sunny). We saw amazingly majestic views of the Matterhorn as the sun set and rose over the crystal clear mountains. We walked inside a glacier and slid down an ice slide. We drank swiss beer and ate bratwurst overlooking the clear 12,000ft peaks. We sipped crisp white wine from the world's highest vineyard and learned that fondue doesn't always come with cheese as we bewilderedly dipped chunks of raw meat into boiling water with a side of mayonnaise, the "house special fondue."

And finally, we sat outside in the hot tub, scurrying down the wet stairs afterward in the 25°F temperature...Standing wet in a bathing suit outside in 25°F should count for something.

An unexpected fondue - the "house special" of
raw lamb, boiling water and 5 kinds of mayonnaise

But I knew the truth - I knew that with a few feet of fresh snow, it could be the most wondrous winter wonderland in the world. I knew, because I had planned this quest having been to Zermatt on my own last year, when almost like a Jane Austen character, I lost my glove...while sneaking out the back of a pub to avoid a 75-year old Swiss movie-star/ former ski olympian from the 60's and his groupies who told me that he was "very gentle"...

And so, with unusually majestic views of the Matterhorn but no machismo cold stories, the quest continued! 

***************

With Switzerland in a warm spell, I set my sights on Chicago.

It seemed like a good bet. My husband and I had a wedding to attend on December 28th and as I sat in California on Christmas compulsively watching the temperature fall in Chicago on weather.com, my anticipation grew. The snow fell, the forecast dropped...record snow on Christmas! Yes! Chicago would be epically cold! 

50°F at the Bean, wearing parkas anyway because it's all we brought

Now, with the polar vortex, it may sound like I finally achieved my objective and had the snot frozen out of me. Yet, for better or worse for the people of Chicago, on December 27 and 28, 2013 the weather was epic....epically 50°F (10°C)!

I noted that in cold weather climates the weather often bounces wildly in winter - a fact that my Californian self had never thought about before. I had kind of envisioned a dark, gloomy solid 4-month block of snow across the Midwest and East of the US every winter. Wasn't that what we were avoiding by living in California?

The Chicago River steaming on the last day of our trip at
5°F (-15°C) before it refreezes

While contemplating this newly discovered fact about my world, I spotted more than one balding middle-aged man wearing shorts and a parka on the magnificent mile. I watched wistfully as officials had to run the Zamboni at the Millenium Park ice rink every 20 minutes because all of the ice was melting. The ice that had dutifully encrusted the Chicago River during the Christmas freeze cracked and melted like a truck-stop slushie on a hot summer day. I felt silly in my parka (the only coat I packed, which seemed like a good idea at the time), wearing it open and sweating amongst schools of college sweatshirts, short dresses and open-toed high heels. 

On our last day, just as the polar vortex took its big breath before its grand aria, the temperature dropped to 5°F (-15°C) with a wind chill of -10°F (-23°C), which is nothing to sneeze at but wasn't quite cold enough to make my eyes freeze shut. But, the river began to refreeze, the streets emptied out, the wind began to blow, and no one was wearing shorts. 

As the steam rose from the Chicago river, a communal atmosphere magically emerged in which every poor, freezing soul on the street looked upon her fellow walkers with a new set of eyes and a nod - for the first time since I arrived in this foreign land, perfect strangers communicated with a subtle acknowledgement - "We're in this freezing mess together." 

As my husband indulged my need to walk around for miles to see how long it would take for me to decide that it was so cold that it was in fact worth paying 3x in real estate to live in California, I swam in the crisp, dry air, reveling in the "Little House on the Prairie" fellowship that brought people together through mutual suffering against nature's whims. 

***************

In conclusion, while I am not convinced that I would continue my love affair with the cold if I was forced to face it for many months every year, I'm also not yet convinced that it is the horrifying dragon that my California upbringing has made it out to be as I have watched from afar as the vortex overtakes unsuspecting Easterners like a sequel to Sharknado, ruthlessly knocking down their powerlines and stealing away their lifeblood internet.  

In the end, we managed to squeak out of Chicago the day before it was so cold that flights were delayed and cancelled, the day before the polar vortex made its official entrance. Had we sat in the Chicago airport for hours dealing with the weather mess, I would likely have formed a different opinion. However...

While many would consider us lucky, including the logical side of my own brain, I still feel sad that I didn't get to be a part of the communal togetherness of facing the epic cold alongside millions of others. 

Instead, I will continue to live with the hope that someday, when I least expect it, my snot will freeze and I will fight frostbite in my fingers to dig out my car with a novel shovel I will wield for the first time like Frodo wielding his sword as he runs unsuspectingly into battle. I will pull the string of the terrifying snowblower and figure out what that horror-movie blade does other than...blowing. 

And on that day, I will not be the only one standing back and sighing in wonder at the shit-show that nature can hurl, and it will be awesome. It will be epic.

And from that day forward, if I'm lucky, my story will have a place alongside Bessie's frozen hooves and my grandfather's frostbitten fingers of the epic Montana winter of 1930. 

Until then though, I'm going to enjoy the comfort and ease of my California sunshine. 


More winter magic from Switzerland - 2012 & 2013:

Sunset at the Matterhorn

10 minutes later 

Snowy vespas in Zurich

Crazy ice bar in Zermatt 

Snowy Zermatt in 2012 

Winter evening in Zurich 

Snow adds a new feeling to art in Zurich

Banhofstrasse at Christmas, Zurich

Swiss Alps near Visp

Real snow on the Christmas tree in Zurich