There is a theory that your favorite season is based on when you were born.

Well, I was born in January (17 days until the big day) so granted my favorite season is winter. I love the cold, the snow, the art of sitting by the fire and roasting my marshmallows after a day of building snowmen and snow forts. This theory is just so dead on.

To be honest though, my relationship with the winter is a one way love. I broke my leg slipping on ice, my snow creations always melt or fall apart after about 32 minutes of living and the one time I actually did roast marshmallows by the fire I burnt myself. However, I continue to stand strong by my love for winter. There is truly something so perfect and picturesque about it.

When I made aliyah this past summer, my friends and family back in New York would constantly send me pictures of the leafs changing colors, the first snow fall and the below freezing temperatures they were living in. Yes, it was tough time in my life. I was facing 70 degrees in the Sahara Desert in the month of December. All I wanted was a little taste of winter. And real winter. Not that little chill my neighborhood gets at night.

The Israelis in my university, however, considered this unbearably hot and unseasonal weather winter. Seventy degrees obviously means time to take out the fake Uggs (they don’t sell real ones here. If you have real Uggs here you are a hero. Represent), the heavy down coat, and those intense, somewhat Jihadist-esque hat plus face covers where all you see is one’s eyes and mouth. It’s ironic because as a New Jersey native 70 degrees is something I like to call spring. There I was in university complaining about the heat and my classmates are huddled in a corner drinking hot cocoa while the flowers were blooming and birds were chirping outside. I say we add Israeli reactions to the winter months as the eighth wonder of the world

Then came this week. Some cried. Some threatened the State of Israel they would go back to America. Some turned their heat up so high and painted a picture of the beach on their wall. Well, I have permanent smile marks on my face. Israel was finally saying hello to the winter and golly gee it was about time!

It was finally my turn to send pictures to my friends with my face covered with the caption “its so cold I can’t even take this scarf off my face.” Or to send them a picture of a puddle which everyone swore was indeed snow. Apparently snow in Israel is clear, not white. Who knew.

My heating may be broken, my apartment may be flooding, half my winter clothes may still be in America, I may be wearing so many layers just call me an Oompa Lumpa, my apartment may look like a refugee camp, and I don’t have those delicious Nestle hot cocoa packets but in short, I have never been happier by the fact that Israel is under a state of emergency.

(How twisted was that sentence?)

Let it snow let it snow!

P.S.- Dear New York-ers,

We get free public transportation when it snows. Our snow days may not be frequent but they OWN YOURS. Make aliyah.

 

 

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