Unreal. I have seen snow in the mountains, but this from a distance. Before our day in Neuchâtel, snow had always avoided me. Since I am from Northern California, I knew that I would need to seek out this weather for myself. And so, in French-speaking Switzerland, I half-expected something to happen, and it did.
At first, however, it was half-hearted to match my expectations: it was just a frozen slush form of rain. As the wind picked up, we all disappeared into our coats, and I, into some slight disenchantment. This wasn't the real way it happens.
And then we came out of Le Corbusier house--overlooking the valley below, the rooftops, trees and pathways were ice-swept. Scraped off cars, snow was thrown as I hardly kept my balance on the glassy cobblestones. There were small flurries of snow coming down, coating our hair, our jackets, and any other attempts to keep warm; although this was no dramatic show of snow, it was then something beautiful and exhilarating, and that was enough.
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