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P a u z a
2 0 0 5
Let it Snow
by Heather Windom, Mak-8, Rostuse
I've never seen this
much snow in my
life in a place I've
resided
A native Californian, I somehow lived through twelve
years of life before seeing my
first snow. To this day, snow
for me is a glorious thing to
behold, something to cherish... a portal into another
universe, another time.
Whenever I've had to shovel
a walk, the experience was
quaint, even fun. My father is
from New York and my
mother from Massachusetts,
and they've assured me I
must be mad. So here I am,
living out my Peace Corps
service in the Western Macedonian mountains. Last winter we had snow, but here in
my village it would just turn
to slush after a day or two. I
was disappointed, as I'd been
told winters here were harsh.
Mavrovo had enough snow
for skiing, but Rostuse's didn't stick around long enough.
This year, after a dry December and most of January,
down came the mother load
of snowfall, which began six
days ago. That was the first
day of school after three
weeks of winter break, and
the roads were so bad already, my counterpart couldn't make it over the pass from
Gostivar to come to work. I
taught classes alone, each of
which contained only a handful of students. Our school
handles children from six
surrounding villages, all of
which were snowed in. The
children of Rostuse were
thrilled at the thought of after-school sledding and, I
must admit, so was I. The
giant flakes kept wafting
down and by the end of the
first day, every car was completely covered over, little
Yugo mounds of frozenness.
The stillness was perfect. I
was in winter heaven.
Next day I jauntily got up and
ready for school, and was
delighted to see that not only
was it still snowing heavily,
but I had to dig myself out of
my front gate... my only tool
a piece of kindling. This
chore held me up about ten
minutes and made me somewhat late for my first class.
As I squeaked across the
snow laden street, beholding
the gorgeous pure whiteness
of my new world, I spotted
my neighbor and friend
Adem who said in his gruff
but friendly Macedonian,
Where the hell are you going? School is cancelled.
"Really?" I said, not believing him. Adem, the art
teacher at school, has earned
a reputation with me for being a relentless jokester. But
it was no joke. Sure enough,
we had no classes for the rest
o' the week, and it snowed
nearly the whole time.
I've never seen this much
snow in my life in a place
I've resided. Everyone agrees
this region last saw this much
snow about twenty years ago.
I couldn't believe my luck.
The village teenagers made a
great ski jump and had an
impromptu competition in the
middle of the day that drew
quite an impressive crowd.
Rostuse sits on a sloped
street, the perfect angle for
catching speed and air. We
had our very own winter Xgames, minus the Bud Light
commercials and the corporate sponsors and the designer sunglasses. I was
really impressed at some of
the stunts these kids pulled
off... no fear, just bombsaway.
Tuesday night (day 2 of the
storm) as I was falling asleep
reading, the electricity blew
out. I just went to bed, sure it
would be back on by morning. Alas, I woke up at 6:30
a.m. more frozen than
seemed possible. The snow
was beating down heavily,
my house was like an ice
box, and my telephone had
no signal. It was too early in
the morning to go to a
neighbor's house and defrost
by their woodstove, so I
made some hot coffee with
my Bunsen burner and more
or less jumped up and down
for the next 3 or 4 hours
dressed like an arctic explorer.
Around 10am, I felt it was a
reasonable enough hour to
visit a neighbor for warmth
and company. A few days
earlier I learned how to make
baklava and brought a plate
of it over as a please-let-meinside-your-house offering. I
was welcomed with open
arms by a sweet family
whose daughter Jasmina is in
one of my 6th grade classes.
Their woodstove was roaring
hot and I sat next to it for an
hour before I found my normal body temperature. Everyone here heats and cooks
everything from their woodstoves, a true blessing for
times like these. (I have a
woodstove as well, but it's
old and smoky and I didn't
see fit to get a hold of any
firewood this season... duh.)
The electricity didn't come
back on until Friday, and I
ended up camped out at Jas-