As a sheltered Southern Californian, I have had little contact with a certain aspect of South Bend winters: snow. Until attending Notre Dame, I had little experience dealing with it on a daily basis.

Not surprisingly, my arrival to the Midwest evoked many snow-related questions. Will I be warm enough in regular jeans, sweaters and a coat? Do I have the right shoes, or will I need shoes with spikes in the bottom to walk on ice and those snowshoes that they wear on cartoons that look like tennis rackets?

Besides these questions and an adventurous disposition, my uneasiness was compounded when I developed a deep-rooted fear of falling, slipping and sliding. Originating in a recent slip in a bathtub that tore a ligament in my knee and extending to several trips, falls and slips thereafter that dislocated the same knee, these accidents allowed me to conclude that I could not rely on my legs under normal conditions, let alone in extreme slippery ones. Winter was more than a force out to destroy me; it was a nightmare.

The first big snowstorm at Notre Dame was an exciting experience; it was beautiful and magical, but not so wonderful to walk in. I hobbled carefully across campus delicately placing my feet on the ground and consulting my roommates every step of the way for advice on how to remain standing.

Fortunately, that winter was mild. During my freshman year, I could get to class on time without looking like an 80-year-old. Soon, I had become comfortable enough with the snow to slide across it on my stomach (it's not as soft as it looks) and I frequently tried to construct and throw snowballs.

My initial introduction to snow was kind; however, my sophomore year I received a blow to my newfound snow-confidence. Feeling secure in the cold element, I exited Zahm Hall one evening and slipped on an icy stone stair. My feet flew up into the air and my life flashed before my eyes. I cringed at the pain that was soon to come as my bohonkus landed on the hard stone. Amid my friend's laughter and a floor full of Zahmbies' laughter from above, I too laughed at my pain and the comical slip. (After a week of bruises and a trip to the infirmary I was okay.)

I survived the worst snowfall, with little grace, but a lot of humor. This year I decided to conquer one of the last hurdles with snow. I put aside my fear of falling, resurrected my adventurous and daring inclinations and I went skiing! I learned to ski with several other ND students.

We struggled but we managed to stand and slide down a hill on two skis. Although skiing was relatively painless, I did fall. I did get stuck on standing with my legs spread into the splits. I did worry about getting safely off the chair lift. I did consider just staying on it and going back around to build up courage. I did advance (briefly) past the bunny hill.

Most of all, I had fun - lots of it! It may have taken 3 years, but it was worth it. I figure while I am here (where winter is 5 months long), I should confront my fears, especially that of snow falling. Maybe, just maybe, next year, I will conquer driving in the snow!

• Falling, slipping and sliding