Oh, snow. Frosty snow, how had I imagined you since I was a small girl watching Home Alone 2, as a teenager watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and then as me watching Ally McBeal. I had been daydreaming how lovely it must be to walk in the snow in my (future) red Burberry jacket, to have a hot cup of cocoa, to be covered in a blanket while gazing at you from the window. Oh, snow. Slushy snow, I want to adopt you even before I met you.
Aaaaand… I met you today!
Although it was in a wholly different setting than I imagined. I dreamt our first time would be in somewhere fancy like Manhattan during Christmas, but it was more like a scene from Snow Dogs with ski jackets and snow boots.
I had to pass waking up awfully early (on a vacation! Which felt like committing a holiday sin), stepping out to the cold windy dawn, listening to a dreary tour guide, and navigating a flat-white deprived brain before I got to see you. Well, even then I couldn’t see you just yet because our first stop was not Mount Buller.
It was the snow gear renting/selling place. Half asleep, I was passed a ski jacket, pants, and boots. When the guy behind the counter told me sixty-six dollars, I handed him the money without a question or a pretentious-shock-about-the-price-face. My brain was snoozing out every couple of minutes. I needed my caffeine fix, and I needed it immediately.
After being saved by the over-priced j, I changed into the rented clothes and looked pudgier. I grunted since that’s all I could do inside the thick ski jacket. We hoped on onto the bus and began another hour’s journey to Mount Buller.
Fortunately, the weather couldn’t be more gorgeous today (I observed that I noted and talked way too much about the weather in my journal).
First I saw a glimpse of it and then more of it. There was a little white mud here and there in the forest surrounding us. It was unreal because I was looking at it from the bus window. For a moment, it felt like watching the Discovery Channel show of ice muds.
Once the bus stopped I stepped out and approached it cautiously. Do I greet it? Do I shake hands with it? Do I touch it or just jump into it? I wasn’t sure what’s the tradition of meeting the snow for the first time. I ended up doing a very touristy gesture, took a selfie of myself, and sent it to my parents. Surely they would love to know the daughter has made it to the snow.
There was a snowboarding place, and a small souvenir shop there, nothing much to see, especially since I don’t know how to snowboard, so we took another bus to the village. When I heard the village, I imagined a medieval village, like in The Game Of Thornes. It was not like that at all. It turned out to be a huge snow playground with a couple of shops and an eatery place, including few restaurants, and two or three hotels, souvenir shops, and cabins.
We took the cable car ride, it has a remarkable view of the snowy hill, I wanted to do it again and again.
View from the top of the snow cable car
If you are one of my loyal followers (note to self: need to check Google Analytics, if there is any other IP address checking my blog out other than my parents’), you might have noticed that I have always babbled about extending my break and prolong my trip-enjoyment. It was no different this time, especially since it was our last night in Australia.
I wish I could just rent a cabin here and just chillax.
I would go out for lunch at The Wok, a Chinese Restaurant; play in the snow, read books while sipping my evening wine at the local bar, Cattleman. In the evening I would go back to my cabin, light up the fireplace, turn on some music, cook an easy oven dinner, and sat by the window gazing into the snow or more probably watching the rerun of Dexter, but still, I pictured ZEN.
A few days of these activities before going back to my life/routine/day job/bills/a long flight home would be grand.