There are times, albeit so rarely, when it’s perfectly fine to be roused from your sleep at one in the morning. One of them is when it snows in Madrid. The banging knock and loud commotion got me scrambling out of my bed and rushing straight to the front apartment window, jostling with everyone else just to get a good peek.
What do you know? It was snowing indeed. A light one, but heck, it’s still snow. And they say it doesn’t in Madrid.
Getting some good shots with my mobile phone camera wasn’t easy, especially if you’re trying to brave the icy wind and snowy flake bits forcing their way in. With hands I can’t stop from quivering, I asked someone else with a steadier grip to make the shots and video instead, lest I wind up with inferior results.
I’ve always imagined snow to be flakes descending floatingly, in a drifting manner, until it settles to the ground. But that night I realized that it actually fell straight and hurriedly. Nonetheless, it was an amazing sight; a dreamy, almost surreal experience.
Not content with somewhat dreary pictures, I went down the apartment with my phone hoping to take shots worth saving for posterity, which I did.
Finally, I went back to bed, totally dazed from sleepiness, and eyes almost shut. Still, I managed to hope for the snowfall to continue as the city sleeps.
For while in most probability, everything will have melted away after hours later, it must be awesome to wake up to a morning where everything is snow-covered, and Madrid is transformed into its own glimmery white, winter wonderland.