The air on a snow-covered mountain doesn’t have a taste or smell, but there’s something different about the way your lungs feel when they hold cold, clean air. The sea, near waterfalls, forests and white mountains produce negative ions which, for someone reason, make you feel more alive.
Days before our most recent group of international teachers returned to their homes, we had a final adventure to Lassen Volcanic National Park. I drove the rented 12-passenger white van, which feels like driving a bathtub when on a winding mountain road. Susi and Jeromy also filled every seat in their minivan for the trek up highways 36 and 89 to the Kohm Ya-mah-nee visitor center. The last time I went to Lassen park was during the COVID-19 pandemic, when driving all day and walking on an isolated mountain seemed like the best thing to do.
I’ve written much lately about the joys of visiting familiar places with people for whom the experience is brand new. Our group totaled 18, and for most it was the first time they had touched, smelled and thrown snow – visitors from India, Malawi, Burkina Faso, Nepal, Niger, Vietnam, Tanzania, Kenya, Myanmar, Dominican Republic, Ghana and Cameroon, as well as several Fulbright Exchange teachers who wanted to see if snow was any different in California.
People in places where snow dares not fall have seen it in movies, and members of our group knew to grab fistfuls for snowball fights and to roll a ball of white stuff to build a snowman. (This day happened to be International Women’s Day, which is a big deal in other parts of the world, so we sculpted two snowwomen).
I do not tire of sharing decidedly American experiences with the visitors — the basketball game at Chico State, a walk across a college campus, the ocean and the view from the Golden Gate Bridge.
“I feel like I’m in a movie,” someone or another will often say.
Salou of Niger is decidedly dignified. He’s tall and stands even taller, often with an expression of a man with authority. I always had the sense that he was taking notes in his mind and would have a novel to share with his students when he returned to Africa.
On snow day he wore a white and orange tracksuit with the letters of his country written across his chest. We captured slow-motion video as he jumped from deep footsteps, sometimes tossing handfuls into the air. He asked a friend to help cover his middle section in snow so he could feel the cold sink into his bones.
“I wish you had brought the flag of your country for photos” I said at one point.
“I am the flag of my country,” he said, pointing to “Niger” written on his chest.
When we arrived, the small slope at the back of the visitor’s center was smooth. Salou was the first to make tracks toward the back of the visitors center, where the warmth from the building created icicles along the eaves. He anchored himself on a slight slope and reached his long arms to snap off the shards, which were almost immediately turned into make-believe swords.
“Game of Thrones,” was shouted by many and Mariella of the Dominican Republic struck a formidable pose, sharp-end of her icicle pointed at no one in particular. By now, most had tossed their warm coats on the white stuff and now raced around in their red Chico State T-shirts. The teachers used features of their phone to capture slow-motion sword fights or flopped onto the powder in exaggerated death scenes. Big circles of snow were tossed in the air and kicked into a flurry like a soccer ball. Flo of Uruguay was soaked to her skin but didn’t care, and I wished I could find the dry socks I thought I had packed in my backpack.
Over time, the once-pristine hillock was pockmarked with footprints and looked like a wild dance had taken place.
People hiking down the trail on snowshoes would never have guessed this brightly-colored mob included teachers in charge of hundreds of students.
It doesn’t take much of a hill to have fun with a $5 plastic sled. Shanu of Malawi walked just high enough to slide down 10 feet, a short but exhilarating ride. Shadrack of Tanzania pulled the rope and ran until out of breath, tugging Margaret of Myanmar on the sled as she squealed.
The travelers had worked hard during their time in Chico, attending workshops and crafting collaborative projects. On the snow day each was able to remember what it is like to play.
“This was the best day of all the days,” Salou said with all seriousness. I asked him to describe why.
“Because it was all new to me.
“Everything was new, the cold and the feel in my hands, like being on a different planet.”
