Sledding

Traffic and social life tend to come to a halt whenever it snows in Ankara. There is no municipal snowplow system, so it's up to determined citizens to clear paths through the streets and open up the roadways again. But until that time, buses and taxis alike find their paths impeded, and pedestrians like me tire quickly of arriving places soaked to the knee and splattered with blackened slush.



The past two weeks of intermittent snow have left the streets resembling what an optimist might describe as a rich chocolate cake dusted with coconut, and what I might call a disgusting sludge that does no good for my shoes.

Yesterday the snow started again mid-afternoon, and fell steadily all night. Around 11 pm my flatmate suggested we go out for a walk to enjoy the winter wonderland while it was still fresh. So we bundled up and went out to explore the neighborhood. (Photo credits to my flatmate. I was too busy slipping and sliding to take pictures.)

The odd thing is that we were far from the only street prowlers out. The local park was crowded at midnight with camera-wielding families, couples with dogs, and sledders. To be clear, only about five people in Ankara own actual sleds. But as I've mentioned before, there is no flat space in the whole city, which means that a blanket of snowfall creates a sledders' fantasy land of abundant slopes. The temptation is great enough that a mass improvisation occurs, with the population rushing to their kitchens to fetch spare plastic bags, which are surprisingly slick little sleds.

My Cuban flatmate, being from a tropical island, had never gone sledding in her life, and was equal parts curious and terrified of the activity. Her fear was amplified by the sight of Turkish college guys racing their plastic shopping bags down the steepest, longest hill in the park at maximum speed, surrounded by a laughing gang of about twenty friends who were drinking beer and cheering them on. Several of them ended their runs sprawled out in a snowbank after a final bump sent them flying.

Thankfully we had lots of options for a bunny slope, and managed to find a hill that wasn't too steep for her first adventure. She screamed the whole way down, but then immediately ran back up the hill to try it again. I'm sure in time she'll be up on the big hills with the Turkish guys, skidding gleefully into piles of kicked-up snow.

And for the rest of the time, I am making full use of the armchairs which sit in front of the large front window in our living room, reading classic novels, sipping hot tea, and watching the snowfall. Bliss, indeed.