Winter in Niagara

 While telling people that I am moving to the USA for my Master’s, most seemed genuinely happy that it was to California, a state with nice weather throughout the year. It is just like Bangalore, one of my professors had said, taking away some sheen from my adventure that was to be. Although the day I stepped outside the airport into a chilly Los Angeles and the rainy days that followed, leading up to new year 2015 forced me to reconsider, the weather is one of the few things that did not need any getting used to. The summers quite hotter and the winters quite colder than in Bangalore, my parents were happy that I was not somewhere on the east coast or in the Midwest having to deal with snow storms and the like! It is nice to visit Chicago during thanksgiving and Indianapolis in the middle of December when you have someone to drive you around and all you have to do is adorn the necessary winter clothes and keep yourselves warm, but quite the stunt to be on the road covered with snow by yourself at nearly freezing temperatures.

 I was nervous about my trip to upstate New York at the peak of winter, but ready to take on the exploit nevertheless. In the few months that I had owned a car, my confidence in driving here seemed to have soared and I thought, what is the worst that could happen? My birthday being within a few days of that of Martin Luther King Jr. meant that I could have an extra-long weekend since we are allowed to take a day off for our birthday. I flew to Syracuse with a couple of layovers in between, starting on Friday evening and arriving sometime in the afternoon. Looking out the airport in Detroit where my layover was extended by more than an hour, I was pleased I was not one of the workers I could barely discern in the white blanket that had draped the surroundings. When they finally decided to take off after the snowing subsided a little, clearing the snow and ice from the top of the plane took an hour or so, something I was surely excited to watch for a bit after boarding, sleep getting the better of me soon. Packed in my winter jacket and boots, I walked over to the SUV I would be driving for the next three days. Just like that, my most dreaded moments were over and I wondered why it was not all that difficult to maneuver that huge vehicle through the roads where the snow was being removed frequently, but was being replenished much faster. As I hit the brakes a couple of times, the noise that I heard from underneath the vehicle frightened me. It was only the ice breaking and I would hear more of that soon.

 I drove to Ithaca, about an hour and a half away, taking me slightly longer in that weather. Ithaca, probably familiar to some of us as home to Cornell university is a city on the Cayuga lake, one of the eleven ‘finger lakes’. A native American legend goes that the lakes were formed when the Great Spirit laid his hands on the lands to bless it and the imprints filled with water. As to why there are eleven instead of ten, I read that perhaps someone added ‘one more for luck’.

 I was glad that everybody on the road was slow, promptly following the tire tracks on the only lane that remained of the original two. If I veered off the beaten path even a little, it felt like I was losing control of the vehicle. My friend, who I was meeting only for the second time, had freed himself for the day to be my guide. We had only few hours left before sunset. Lunch at a quaint Vietnamese restaurant warmed us up and we headed to the Taughannock falls state park a few miles away, only to get outside the car for a few minutes to enjoy the beautiful but icy-cold view. Another car arrived and we greeted the couple as they walked to the viewpoint, commenting at each other that we assumed we were the only crazy ones out there at that time. To quote a sign at Ithaca Falls, Ithaca is gorges! I just happened to be there at the wrong(right?) time to behold everything in shades of white and gray. Soon, we were in downtown, a small area called Ithaca commons that looked welcoming, lit up and pretty. We whiled time away browsing through a used bookstore, at a café and at a fancy restaurant for dinner. Relieved that my first day tackling the cold was not as bad as I thought it would be, I hit the bed soon after I arrived at the Airbnb. I was up early the next day; grabbed a sandwich and drove around the Cornell campus as my friend had advised, rather sad that he could not show me around. Situated on a hill overlooking the city, it was beautiful.

 I bid adieu to Ithaca and drove away to Niagara Falls, arriving well before noon. The drive was pleasant and quick since it was not snowing, but as luck would have it, my view of one of the largest waterfalls in the world soon turned foggy due to the incessant snowfall. That did not stop me from posting a photo on social media, which prompted a friend who lived in Cambridge, about an hour into Canada from where I was, to call me immediately and wonder if we could meet. Seeing that the weather would not let me do much anyway, I decided to drive there soon. The maid of the mist, probably the most popular attraction at the falls, was closed. I did get to experience the cave of the winds, partially though, getting close to the bridal veil falls, one of the three falls that make up the Niagara. I roamed around in search of restaurants still open and serving vegetarian food but gave up and settled for some mac and cheese at the café in the visitor center that they gave me in a paper cup for lack of any utensils. The perks of visiting off-season, I consoled myself.

 I lined up in the car at the rainbow bridge to cross the border to Canada. The officer was surprised I was alone, but let me go without many questions once he checked my visa, since I said I would be back the next day. It took me a while to adjust my speed since Canada, like most sane people in the world, follows the metric system. Canadians are supposedly nicer and more polite, but definitely seemed to be driving faster than people did in the USA. I felt accomplished, driving in a country I did not live in without much difficulty. I did struggle to pull over into the driveway of my friend’s apartment and needed his help. Cambridge seemed to have had more snowfall than most places on the way with inches of snow stacked by the road. I forgot all about it once inside, treated to a delicious meal that they had cooked and had not devoured, waiting for me to reach. The last time I met them was at their wedding nearly a year ago. Like most friends that I visited, I had the privilege of being their first guest in their new home and was treated warmly. To my utter delight, they had made Payasam too, since I had inadvertently let out that it was my birthday the next day. I could not be any happier and enthusiastically chatted away the next couple of hours, barely letting them speak. Here I was, although away from family, spoilt by friends who knew just the right thing to do to make me feel special. Although I would have loved to stay there longer, we decided it would be better if I made it to the hotel I was to stay at before dark. I had made a reservation for a room with a view of the falls and hoped it was everything they had promised it to be.

 The Canadian side is where we can see the horseshoe falls in all its glory. It was lit up and was surely a sight to behold from the window in my room. I woke up to a bright, sunny day and drove down to the welcome center to join hoards of people trying to get the perfect photograph. I went down an elevator to experience the ‘journey behind the falls’. If we were in awe of its beauty so far, we walked through a tunnel that lead to the falls from where the thick sheet of water reminded us how much volume there was, feeding the power plants nearby. The icicle formations were something I would not have seen had I been there any other time of the year. I walked along the path by the river to get a good look at the American falls, catching some rainbows along the way.

 When I thought it was getting quite crowded, I drove to a butterfly conservatory a few miles away. What I distinctly remember is a girl about six or seven crying out loud because she was too scared to see all the butterflies up close inside the green house. How strange it is that even the most beautiful things can scare us when we get too close! Her parents did manage to pacify her after a while and I saw her go through the place quickly while we all took our own sweet time to see if any of them would land on us. I was not that lucky.

 I had a long drive of three hours to Syracuse ahead of me and decided to start early enough to get a good dinner and catch up on sleep. I crossed the border through a different bridge this time, worried, as always, while entering the USA. It seemed to be my longest interview at the border, the officer taking a second to make sure I was telling the truth when I said it was my birthday, before wishing me. He wondered why I had gone there all the way from California, by myself, just to spend a day enjoying the falls. That made me think too, why had I gone through all this trouble? He repeated some questions, framing them differently to see if I would falter. I did not, and made it out of there without having to get out of the car. Perhaps I looked trustworthy enough when I said I had not bought anything apart from souvenirs in Canada!

 It had snowed quite a bit in Syracuse since I had left there a couple of days ago. It was only while parking the car that the snow bothered my driving. Had I turned into a pro? Probably not, but I was not scared anymore. I finished the day in style, ordering dinner in and enjoying a movie all alone. It was the first time I had not cut a cake for my birthday and was not near anybody I knew. If that is not a sign of growing old, what is? It did appear like a peek into the coming years, where I would be spending most of my time alone. This year is going just right. I flew back into sunshine and warmth the next day. For now, I cannot imagine living in such cold weather. Maybe you get used to it when you do not have a choice? I should mention that the lack of a birthday cake was made up for a week later by some friends who invited me home under the pretext that we had not met in a long time and threw me a surprise. Not all is lost!