Climate's what you expect, weather's what you get

We'd all slept through some or most of the 9 hour bus ride from BsAs to Cordoba. Upon boarding the bus that would drop us off at our final destination, all of our visions and predictions for our trip were drastically transformed. "Este bus nos deja en el Parque del Condorito?" "Si podemos. Por ahi esta nevando," the bus driver casually commented. My neck fell and my head stooped. With wide eyes and my mouth ajar, I repeated incredulously, "Nevando?"
I turned around to deliver the news to my companions, some whose faces showed their comprehension of Spanish weather vocabulary, others whose faces soon followed suit upon the delivery of the unexpected. But not even snow was about to put a damper on our adventure. Not even on mine, which I was embarking upon from a strictly tropical disposition. So we stowed our backpacks away, all varying in size, style, and organization (mine held together by rope). Cordoba found itself under a gray sky with wind briskly tossing the flowers about of trees who had anticipated Spring prematurely.

"Llegamos?" "No, no, nos queda 10 minutos. Paramos por un cafe aqui." We stepped out of the bus and the sky was sprinkling flakes of snow and fragments of icey sleet onto the wet ground. I ordered a coffee, mostly so I could hold the warm cup in my hands. The bus driver caught my gaze searching the wall for an exit and guided me out to the patio which was speckled with white patches of snow.
I thought to myself that the only way this cold of weather was bearable was thanks to the warm drink flowing south from my throat and through my chest. Though my fingers and face prickled with cold from the snowy weather, I looked over the stoney flatlands contentedly sipping my coffee and I basked in the excitement of seeing falling snow for the third time in my life.
I realized then how much less content I would find myself camping in this weather without a stove or fire to warm my chest with hot tea. The bus driver joined me outside to light a cigarette and I asked him if the weather was usually like that. "En esta epoca? Nunca. Tenemos 10 dias de primavera ya. Ayer habia sol y hacia calor."

It snowed even harder once we'd hiked to our campsite. It was as if our arrival had been welcomed by a sudden and unexpected influx of fingernail sized snowflakes that turned the sky into a polka-dotted collage of kinetic flecks when we turned our gazes upwards. I forgot about the cold, the wet, and the frozen and I shed my hood as I took off in a run. I hopped and climbed up boulders and held my hands out to receive the snow.

That night, 9 of us slept between 2 plastic tarps coated in frost beneath one of the clearer night skies I've ever seen. We all silently hoped and prayed the Milky Way would keep us company throughout the night instead of being replaced by that white mist that had enveloped us all day.