Nice Snowing You

TheTyee.ca

For the past two weeks, I've been unusually happy. Exuberant, sometimes. Tranquil, others. But throughout, really, really happy.

Nope, I haven't fallen in love, or told a boss to shove it. (That was last year.)

It's the snow.

Like most Vancouverites, I'm from somewhere else – the Alberta Rockies, in my case. Admittedly, winter there was long, and cold, and sometimes an achy, sullen grey. Sometimes I thought my lungs were going to be instantly freeze-dried when I stepped outside and made the mistake of inhaling. Icy fingers, toes and ears were no fun; thawing them out was worse. And in late winter, when the slushy snow was soiled with sand and dog shit, I just wanted it to go away so we could get on with spring.

But (and this is the first reason snow makes me happy) it wasn't wet.

Rain? Snow comparison

I don't know if it is my inner cat coming out or what but I hate getting wet. I really, really, really hate it. For me, opening my door to a wall of cold water pouring down is like encountering kryptonite is for Superman; all I know is I have to get away from it. Needless to say, this makes living in Vancouver in the winter a tad unpleasant. Yes, I knew it rained a lot in Vancouver when I moved here (although I didn't really comprehend how much before my first monsoon season) and no, I'm not complaining; I choose to stay. But it doesn't mean I can't prefer snow.

Like I said, snow isn't wet. You can brush it off clothes, hats and eyelashes, walk around in it for a long time and stay warm. You can play in it: ski, snowshoe, build a snowperson, throw snowballs. (There's a reason why there aren't any rain-requiring sports; being in the rain longer than you absolutely have to just sucks.) More reasons to like snow? It's pretty. It sparkles in the sun. It cleans the urban landscape up into gorgeous graphic lines. It reflects light. It makes things quiet.

A bonus for Vancouverites is that it gives us extra holidays. Because the city is so unprepared for snow, it's perfectly acceptable to stay at home on the first day after a snowfall, even though most of us (boss included) came from places where even a full-scale blizzard got you no absentee-mercy. We feign helplessness on the office answering machine (“Sorry, Skytrain is down . . .”) knowing that the boss hasn't made it in either. And then we go out and play. (How very West Coast.) And we smile conspiratorially at the other people on the street who have done the same thing.

Brief fling

Because it never lasts long in Vancouver, we never get to the really icky part of snow. Yes, we get some ice, regular and black, and yes, we get slush. And yes, when it melts all at once we'll get huge puddles with ice underneath because the sewers can't cope. But it won't drag on and on, getting yellow with pet pee and grotty with garbage.

Instead, we get the Platonic ideal of snow, the Disney version of snow; a vacation in a Never-never Land of Snow.

Which is why I've been so happy. Two weeks of vacation away from Vancouver in the middle of the rainy season. Who wouldn't be?

Dorothy Bartoszewski is a writer in Vancouver.