The First Snowfall

My first Winter in Germany was extraordinary. 5 years ago, on this day, I remember waking up frigid, wondering, “Is it going to snow today? Am I going to witness my first ever snowfall?” And almost at the same instant, I felt something for the first time. You see, as a Kashmiri who never got a chance to see snowfall, I was eager, ecstatic, and a little bit anxious. As a new tourguide, 4–5 tours a week, along with other two part-time jobs, would take up my entire week. Despite that, I booked myself for two tours on this day, because the weather forecast predicted it was going to snow in the evening. Therefore, an extra shift of evening work would ensure that I do not give in to the cold, go home and coop up in my blankets and miss, well let’s just say, nature doing its thing. It was 3.30 pm. The temperature was dropping every passing minute. The afternoon tour began at 4 pm. There were four wonderful people on my tour — two boys from Chicago, a girl from Portugal, and another girl from Argentina. The weather was harsh, the ‘can’t keep your hands out of your pockets for a second even if you are wearing gloves’ harsh. But I had to; I had to keep my hands out of my winter jacket, as any storyteller would do. If I don’t move my hands while telling a funny story about an absurd and creepy looking piece of sculpture sitting on a random balcony, how will the tourists even believe me! An hour into the tour when it was pitch black and the cold had now pierced our bones through 3–4 layers of clothing, one of the boys from Chicago (let’s call him CG for the sake of the story), unable to comprehend my excitement during a frosty afternoon, looked at me and said, “You really love your job, don’t you?!” And I smiled.

The tourguide in me could sense he wanted to take a break and pee. The tourists often get flustered during the Winters. Luckily just a stop later, we were going to visit a cafe for some hot drinks so I told him to put a pin on that question (even if it was rhetorical) and that we shall get back to it at the cafe. He nodded (and also trembled a little). It was biting cold. We reached the cafe. It’s my friend’s cafe — Hommage- the best cafe in Cologne. We also call it Kaffedral — the coffee cathedral. Mo, my friend, was working that day which meant all of them were lucky to have him as the barista, for he is a brilliant one. Therefore, instead of taking our drinks to go, we ordered our coffee and took our seats at a small table where all 5 of us sat together, of course after removing our Michelin man costumes. Ugh, so many layers! I chose not to address CG’s question, he had asked me 15 minutes ago, even if it was all that was playing at the back of my mind. My reason was that if I tell them, they will know something personal about me which is always a slippery slope. Pun not intended. Telling stories is my passion. I love talking for hours; no wonder I became a tourguide. But, it is easy to share my love for history, art, culture, travel, etc. in the form of stories to tourists and travelers as compared to telling a story about a silly chapter of my life with strangers; who were on my tour to know about Cologne — the city and not me — the tourguide. While my brain was overthinking, the coffee arrived and as the first sip entered my system, it warmed my entire existence. Ok, that was a little too dramatic. Let me give you some context and take a detour. The same morning, I was out the whole day in 0 degrees, without realizing how numb my body had become due to the bitterly cold winds. First, there was a 3-hour long morning tour, then after grabbing some quick lunch that I ate while window shopping, there still was an hour left before the second tour began. I was freezing. Fun fact and a pro tip — To kill time during Winters in Europe without spending any money, here’s what you must do. Be religious! Joke! Go to the church and rest there. The other devotees often might have looked at me and thought, “She is so dedicated to God” but I am usually just taking a quick nap. Sorry Jesus! It is so warm, serene, and quiet. If there is any God, mark my words — they are sleeping during winters! This explains a lot about my existentialism. Sorry, I digress. Coming back to the comfortable feeling after drinking that marvelous coffee by Mo, it brought a big smile to my white walker face with a Rudolph‘s, the reindeer, red nose. At this point, CG asked the question again but this time it was more like a statement. He said, “See, look at her face, she is smiling! I am frozen! Why are you so excited?” And almost immediately, others seem to agree. All four of them were now staring at me, with coffee in their hands, waiting for me to answer.

At that moment, I felt they were either too intrigued to know or too displeased at themselves for not being happier enough, particularly CG. So, I felt comfortable to share my excitement with this bunch of strangers. Needless to say, the long, profound, or silly conversations, the kind that either end with laughter or new feelings are what my heart and mind crave. And I hate it when people interrupt my long story sessions. For an emotional and sensitive person like me, I despise it, and how! I could kill someone at that moment for a plot twist. But with age, I have also recognized that most people nowadays are more comfortable with small talk for many different reasons, debatable or not. Hence, I have also learned to read the room or the audience, thanks to live standup comedy. I wasn’t sure if this was my audience, but it felt like it, so it began. I told them how I had never witnessed snowfall even though I was born in and belong to one of the few places in India, where it snows and how! Not only that, for the next 10 minutes, I narrated to them how I am oblivious to the feeling of what it is to experience watching the snowfall for the first time. I mean I know the science, have also watched videos, and have heard countless stories from my parents and grandparents too but all of this still cannot fill the void I have always felt. After speaking non-stop, with a cup of coffee in one hand and the other hand moving as if I was casting a spell on them or selling them an electronic product, I remember ending the story on a funny note. “So today four of you will either witness a 28-year-old Indian woman losing her mind with excitement or losing her fingers to frostbite because she wanted to watch the snowfall! Either way, you are going to witness history.” We all had a big laugh. My friend Mo, the barista, who was overhearing us, laughed too and gestured at the tourists hinting — she is crazy enough to do what she just said!

As we were leaving the cafe, the girl from Portugal came up to me and said she couldn’t continue the tour as it was too cold for her and after spending the time inside at the cafe, she doesn’t want to leave yet. So she handed me a tip and said her goodbyes. I always feel upset when someone has to leave the tour abruptly because of whatever reasons. I didn’t take it personally because she was shaking. The cold had reached its peak, I guess. Either that or all of us were feeling weird separation anxiety from the warm coffee house. As I was looking — let me rephrase — As my eyes looked at my easily recognizable maroon winter jacket on the coat hanger, amidst what looked like a Black Friday Black and Grey Winter Jackets haul, CG came up to me. He said, “You see, I am from Chicago where it snows so much, that I hate it with all my guts! It’s cold in summers and then it snows in Winters. It is always so fucking cold, I detest it. And this is why traveling during the Winter holidays to places that are not- Chicago cold is my thing. But after listening to you, I could not stop thinking about the first time I witnessed snowfall. It was indeed magical and even though I still hate this season weather-wise, I really wish it snows in the next hour and a half till the tour is on so that, I get to see your reaction!” His words made the separation anxiety, the general anxiety, and the winter blues, just melt away. We had walked only a few blocks from the cafe and it began to snow.

Screaming with joy, the spectacle before my eyes was breathtaking. It was better than my expectation. It was absolute sorcery. I remember I kept saying, “How is the sky doing that?! Condensation rocks! No, no, Condensation snows!” And while nature had possessed me, I got attacked by a big ball of snow coming at me from my good friend CG. It felt like a scene from a movie. This boy, who was so annoyed with any mention of snowfall half an hour ago, who was agitated with my positive anticipation of snowfall and who traveled in winters to skip the snowfall at home, is now making snowballs with bare hands and throwing at me. I couldn’t stop but wonder whether my story was more compelling or was it his yearning to feel pure, unadulterated joy. I want to believe it was both. The other two tourists also joined. We now were almost at the end of the tour when we reached the best Christmas market in Cologne at Heumarkt. And I remember watching their jaws dropping and the snow in their hands melting. It was surreal. We walked through the market as if we were all in a fairytale. As much as I wanted to immerse myself in this adventure they were feeling, I also had to remind myself that the tour is still on. Detaching myself from this sonder every time there was a stop on the tour, I improvised so they get both — the information they came on the tour for and the memories we all were destined to create together.

We reached the last stop. I end my 2.5–3 hour-long walking tour of Cologne with a quote about hope, even on days, I am not feeling a shred of it. I do so because I know how it makes people feel. After having met thousands of different kinds of people on my tour from all over the world, one thing remains common to date. No matter what their life story is, where they are coming from, or what they do, everyone is looking for hope. In my humble opinion, I believe, we travel, we make new friends, we meet old friends, we seek adventure, we seek mediocrity, we learn, we unlearn, we cry, we laugh, we break free or break apart, we create art from a broken heart- to not feel hopeless. That’s the crux of it. The tour ended and we parted ways. There were hugs involved. I always know that the tour meant more than just a walk around the city to the people when there are hugs at the end.

After spending an hour more — alone, singing and dancing in the snowfall, taking pictures and videos, and sharing them with my friends and family members, it was time to go home and ensure there is no sore throat or cold, the morning after. I video called my mother before leaving the Christmas market. She started crying because I was crying with joy. She kept telling me that I must be careful and not get frostbite. In retrospect, she was right because the next day was painful and felt fingerless. But, I kept telling her, “The void has been filled Maa. Your stories about your time in Kashmir, especially during the winters, feel more real now! I am feeling so good, it is worth the frostbite!” IT WASN’T!

The second winter in Germany, I was diagnosed with SAD — Seasonal Affective disorder. Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a type of depression that’s related to changes in seasons — SAD begins and ends at about the same times every year. If you’re like most people with SAD, your symptoms start in the fall and continue into the winter months, sapping your energy and making you feel moody. Treatment for SAD may include light therapy (phototherapy), medications, and psychotherapy. It’s funny it’s called SAD.

The sound of Winters sends a shiver down my spine now. Pun intended. The complex relationship between me and the sun is what made one of my audience members give me a nickname — The melancholic ray of sunshine. Love it. And ever since my diagnosis, my number one priority has been to skip most of the winters in Germany, an escape to India. The use of the word escape is to make it sound like I am breaking free. Winters confine me and everything that is good about me. And who wants to sit with their bad in bed for days drinking nothing but ginger lemon honey tea on repeat. It’s dark, it’s cold, it’s human. The winter of 2020, is the harshest of all. There are no signs of a snowfall, thanks to climate change. There are no tours or no Christmas markets or no comedy shows, thanks to the pandemic. And there is no magic, thanks to my broken heart and spirits. But there is one feeling at this very moment, which I didn’t feel at all when I sat down to write this story; HOPE. Even if this feeling going to last as long as the winter sun, I am just glad to know it is not dead yet. Perhaps, It is lost. My mental health might not be in a position to nurture the hope from within, but there are too many stories in my memories to look back to where people looked at me, listened to me as the beacon of hope, for they felt what my heart is feeling now. In the pursuit to not feel hopeless, I am trying to remember their faces, their smiles, and their hugs to warm the cold I feel in every inch of my body and soul.

And hoping it warms yours too. Take care of your heart.