The Triangle

Issue date: 4/25/08 Section: Ed-Op

Media Credit: deborah silverman Philadelphia is a big change after growing up on Hawaii's tropical beaches.

For most, Hawaii is the place for a dream vacation. For me, however, Hawaii is where I grew up. I was raised on Maui, living on the slopes of Haleakala, one of the island's dormant volcanoes. I was fortunate enough to grow up with constant sunshine and a 75-degree Fahrenheit temperature. My life, however, was not filled with trips to the beach or surfing from sunrise to sunset.

Just like anyone else, I had school, homework, a job and regular chores around the house. Although I lived in a tropical paradise, I became immune to it. When selecting a college, I decided I wanted a change. I was not impressed by the idea of constant summer on an isolated island. I was fascinated, however, by the concept of snow. Thus, I decided to attend Drexel, living in Philadelphia where I would hopefully get the full change of seasons. The transition from Hawaii to Philly, however, was shocking not only weather-wise, but also culturally.

I suppose I overestimated some of the changes associated with moving to Philly, especially those associated with city life. Mainly, I expected that everyone I did not know in Center City was going to try to mug me. On my first day in Philly, I thought taking the Market-Frankford line at 2 p.m. from 13th to 34th streets was the "risky alternative." So desperate to not look like a potential victim as I walked down the steps to the subway, I probably only looked more obviously distressed. Looking back on it now, I laugh at my wide-eyed paranoia. Soon after coming to Drexel (and not getting mugged), I realized that my freak-out on the Market-Frankford line was unnecessary.

I remember the first time I saw snow. For most people at Drexel, that was in the first year or so of life. For me, it was the first year of college. It was December, and I was already excited by the 30 and 40-degree temperatures that I had never felt before. I had seen the leaves change color and fall in the preceding months, but I was anxious to see this mysterious thing called "snow."

At about 9:30 p.m., I got a call from another Hawaiian freshman at Drexel, my friend Keola Williams. I cannot recall exactly what he said over the phone, but I heard two words distinctly: "Snow… now."

Throwing on a jacket and shoes and tripping over a pile of books in the middle of the floor of my dorm room, I ran outside to see the snow, expecting either a blizzard or a winter wonderland. Although my roommate, ironically from Fairbanks, Alaska, was not at all "impressed" by the resulting "flurry," I thought it was incredible. Like five-year-olds, Keola and I ran around as the snow fell, sticking out our tongues while our friends watched on as if we were both crazy. Although over the next few months the dull cold got boring and Philly never got the kind of snowstorm I wanted, I was always overly-excited any time even a flake or two would fall from the sky.

Continued...

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