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As a child, like all those my age, I would get a lot of pleasure from playing snowballs and making snowmen.
In Istanbul, the city where I lived, it would snow a few times each winter, and every time it would be celebrated by children as a special event. Normally the snow would start to fall in the early morning when we were ound asleep in our beds. When we awoke we would see that everything had changed. The noise which was one of the most defining features of the crowded city, could not really be heard on such mornings. We would run to the windows joyfully and in the half-light we could see people tring to walk on the snow-white paths with silent steps. The enjoyable part of the snow would continue till about midday, in the afternon the sun would turn the sky blue, but leave the earth cold and muddy. The scenario didn't always have to be like this. Sometimes the sun wouldn't come out in the afternoon, and the snow would continue to fall heavily, in fact the Mayor would even close the schools so that children could benefit from a holiday. My relationship with snowi as a child who was raised in a city such as Istanbyl which is on the coast so benefits from the softening effects of the sea. I experienced a strange event years later. It killed off any love I had for the innocent snow that fell in Istanbul. We must have been at a height of 3750, on the north glacier of one of the high volcanoes of Anatolia, Mount Erciyesin. I was very close to reaching the summit. We were climbing as a group. I felt like I had been hit with a strong fist. I didn't understand what had happened. I looked at those in front of me, they were all surprised and had sunk down into the rock up to their waists. At that moment I began to slowly understand what had happened. A wide but not very chunky shelf of ice, which had been 100 metre above us, had broken off and fallen on top of us. I was following our team leader Keşif Aladaglı. We were going in single file. He was at the very front. He took a few steps to the left and stood stock still. We were not on the shore of Istanbul, I guess the snow here was not like anything we were used to. Our group was completely surrounded by snow, on a 45 degree slope, waiting motionlessly. Our guide said quietly "let's tie the ropes". Strange sounds were coming from the block of sno under us. It was probably a miracle that the snow had held on to us until that moment. We started to descend slowly. At that moment I wasn't too afraid of the snow or an avalanche. It was later that I slowly started to fear an avalanche.
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