❄️ Columbia University Plog

❄️ Columbia University Plog｜Romance at 66.33°N 💕 At 4 a.m., while the neon lights of New York still slept along the Hudson River 🌃, I was already bundled in a thick down jacket, boarding an off-road vehicle bound for the Arctic Circle 🚐. From downtown Fairbanks to that dream coordinate—66.33°N—the journey stretched six long hours along bumpy snow-covered roads ⏳. Some say this trip is too exhausting, but as the view outside the window shifted from city lights to endless snowfields ❄️, as the morning sun gilded distant mountains with a rose-gold outline 🌄, as reindeer herds lifted their heads to watch our vehicle from frost-covered forests 🦌—all fatigue melted away in a moment, replaced by breathless emotion 🥹. These six hours were Alaska’s love letter to the brave 💌. The Dalton Highway wound like a gray ribbon through a pristine white world 🛣️. Occasionally, snowy owls swept past the vehicle, their wings stirring diamond-like snow dust 🦉✨. The guide pointed outside and said, “Look, to the left are the Brooks Mountains, to the right the Yukon River—we’re driving along the pulse of the Earth right now.” 🌍❤️ Suddenly, I understood: some landscapes are precious not only for their beauty but because they ask for your time, endurance, and reverence before revealing themselves 🎭. At 3 p.m., we finally stood before the Arctic Circle marker📍. Touching the engraved “ARCTIC CIRCLE” on the cold metal surface sent a chill so real it brought tears to my eyes ❄️😭. We took turns holding our certificates for photos, laughter freezing into puffs of white mist in the -30°C air 😄💨. Secretly, I scooped a handful of snow into a glass vial—perhaps the lightest yet heaviest souvenir I could carry home 🏔️💝. On the return trip, night had fallen like thick ink 🌌. Just as everyone was drifting off to sleep, the guide whispered, “Look outside.” —The aurora had arrived. Without warning or sound, emerald-green ribbons flowed from the depths of the starry sky 🌠. At first, they were like faint veils, slowly stretching into waves, then surging into waterfalls, finally dancing a silent waltz across the heavens 💃✨. We jumped out of the car and gazed up from the snow. Smartphone lenses might capture colors, but they could never capture that moment: stars twinkling amidst green light, breath steaming in the cold air, and the version of myself who had journeyed from Columbia’s libraries to the Arctic Circle finally achieving a gentle reconciliation with the universe 📚🌌. The next day, we visited Chena Hot Springs♨️. In the -40°C air, steam rising from the hot springs felt like a gateway to a fairy realm 🌫️. The moment I stepped into the water, fire and ice collided on my skin in a shivering romance 🔥❄️. Twenty minutes later, my hair and eyelashes were coated in thick frost, like a snow elf from a fairytale 👸❄️. A friend laughed while taking my photo: “This look is something you can’t recreate back in New York!” 📸 Indeed, some experiences belong only to specific coordinates—like the starlight over the Arctic Circle, the frost on eyelashes, and the unfamiliar version of myself running and laughing across the snowfield 🏃‍♀️💫. What travel teaches me is never escape, but returning more bravely 🎒❤️. As the plane left Fairbanks, I looked back from the window at the white continent. Suddenly, I remembered what a Columbia professor once said in class: “Real learning happens in the vast world beyond books.” 📖🌎 This trip to the Arctic Circle was perhaps the most romantic extracurricular assignment I’ve ever given myself—measuring the Earth’s latitudes with my steps, collecting the arcs of auroras with my eyes, and remembering with my heart: All the grandeur in the world is worth the long journey 🌟✈️. #InternationalStudent#SnowfallBecomesPoetry#StudyAbroadPlog#FirstSnowMemory#StudentTravel#Aurora