Yes, this looks like the ultimate White Christmas photo. But, in fact, we had a green Christmas, but a lovely, extremely unusual, snowy January weekend. Three days of snow, unusual. Inches piled upon inches of snow, unusual. Roads and sidewalks covered for days, unusual. The Christmas trees in January? Quite normal. They will be, coincidentally, removed by the city just after our white weekend ends.
The excitement starts with the first flurries at night, with the snow starting to fall. Will it stick? Yup, we wake up in the morning, and the view out our window onto the bridge is still all white!
According to Parisians, even our one day of snow last year was rare. But this turns out to be much more than just a one-day snow. It's a thick blanket that lasts for days, covering buildings, sidewalks, streets, parks, cars, and cafe tables. It is so substantial that my life-long Parisian friends say they've only seen a snow like this in the city once or twice in their lives. Don't believe it? Watch these guys (illegally) skiing downhill from Sacré Coeur!
The photographers come out in droves. And it's not just the tourists. Locals who never take pictures break out their smartphones and start snapping away. Locals who take the occasional photo with their smartphones purposely bring their point-and-shoot cameras along. Locals and tourists who are normally inclined to walk around with a point-and-shoot bring out their good cameras. And people like me who usually walk out with their good cameras bring out their best cameras, their best lenses, tripods, and make special trips around town just for the photo ops.
While it's harder than usual to take cabs, cars, buses, or even metros (occasional above-ground tracks are frozen and snowed over), walking around Paris is even more blissful than usual. The city is nearly silent under its snow blanket, and none of the Parisian drivers know how to drive in the stuff. Suddenly, I can cross large, confusing, seven-point intersections straight across the middle without even worrying about the traffic lights. When I do see a car in the distance, the driver is going as slowly as the accelerator peddle will allow, fearful of slip sliding away.
Anthony is actually off skiing in the Alps, so he's getting his own share of excellent snow. But the girls and I build this traditional snowman, with a finger-knitted scarf, carrot nose, and avocado-pit eyes (well, almost traditional) in the garden behind Notre Dame. I have to come clean and admit that he looks much bigger than he really is, because I get right down on the ground for the photo. Then, we run into one of Gigi's good school friends and her family and end up having a raging snow ball fight. It's perfect snow to pack and completely, shockingly unexpected.
We take a tour on the quai, where the kids slide down the banks (but, it goes without saying, not actually into the Seine), and where we discover that we are not the only ones to build a bonhomme de neige, or snowman, or snowghost or snow-river-goddess, as the case may be.
As we are in France, there is only one acceptable way to follow up a day in the snow, and that is, of course, with chocolat chaud (hot chocolate).
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