You wouldn’t believe how excited I was when, on my first morning in Romania, I walked out the door to find it snowing.
It does snow in Australia, for those who think otherwise. It just doesn’t snow where I live, or anywhere near where I live – it’s a few hours drive up to the mountains to hit snow. And every time I’ve ever been to the snow, it’s never actually been snowing. I’m always there once the snow is too.
So when I walked out the door and saw these giant snowflakes falling from the sky like soft little white petals, my reaction was that of a small child: forget that I’m only wearing socks and run down to try to catch some snowflakes with a ridiculous grin on my face. I had my arms outstretched to catch some snow, as other dainty flakes settled on my nose, promptly melting, taking an immense amount of joy in one of the most simple things in life. I was just enjoying the moment – it felt like something magical.
Meanwhile, the young guy running the hostel and a Canadian fellow traveller were standing on the porch, arms folded and watching me quite bemused. While I was standing outside catching snowflakes with a massive smile on my face, they thought it was far more entertaining to laugh at the idiot voluntarily going out into the cold in only her pajamas and socks. They wrote it off as ‘well, she’s Australian…’