Bloorp.

You know what’s a great feeling? Thinking you won’t like doing something, but doing it anyway only to discover that you were right all along.

Not that I have anything against being satisfyingly wrong. But when I realized a long time ago that going to a tropical resort was just not appealing, someone said, “You can’t say you don’t like it if you’ve never gone.”

I’m usually not the sort who will dismiss something because I think I won’t like it. I used to hate olives, then I made myself try them after a long time of staying away and now I love them. I never thought I’d like SpongeBob SquarePants and Matt practically begged me to watch it with him — now it’s one of the only scripted comedies that makes me laugh.

Food and television are easy fixes. You try it and don’t like it? Spit it out. You watch it and don’t like it? Bitch about how unfunny it is and switch the channel. A resort is a much more costly experiment.

Then, just days after Christmas, we had a good excuse: Matt’s friends were getting married.

On a resort.

In Panama.

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I never thought I’d be so enamoured by mountains. Then again, I never thought I’d be standing on one, either.

Spending time in B.C. during December (for this) is perhaps the antithesis of what some may call “getting away.” I’m not one for escaping to warmer climates in the winter and I can say without hesitation that I really enjoy snow, even though I’m not a skiier or snowboarder.

And when you’re in Whistler, how could you not enjoy snow? Watching falling flakes dusting the village stirred up the romantic, dreamy sensations that give me the right kind of chills.

If I sound in love with snow, it’s because I am. Whistler deepened that love affair, especially when I was whisked away to Whistler Blackcomb and was almost literally stunned by the surrounding beauty. Who could tear their eyes away from the cloudless sky, the tops of the snow-capped evergreens, the neverending blanket of white?

Not me, that’s for sure.

Portrait of a somewhat heavy snowfall in early 2004.

My friends and I decided to have a snow fight in my parents’ unusually immense suburban backyard and this shot captures one area that remained mostly undisturbed by our winter antics.

So many Canadians complain about winter, but I’ve never really been one of them. Snow like this makes me want to wrap four big blankets around my shoulders and curl up in front of a roaring wood-burning fireplace.

Hot chocolate, anyone?