Snow. Wind. And one big fat bruise.



So we’re back down to civilisation from the mountain, its slushy snow and biting wind. Yes, already! Two days up there felt like two minutes. Blink, and it’s gone. Sigh…

Here are some thoughts / observations / random rambles:

1. Still feeling high from skiing. Or to be more precise, snow-balling down the slope. Adrenaline, endorphins, and all that jazz. That elated feeling of speeding down the white hill, your heart soaring like a bird… Well, until the massive crash skillful stop where your body is smashed back down to earth and your heart ended up somewhere around your butt, clanking about like a bottom feeder on the ocean floor.

2. If there was a soundtrack to be made of my “adventure”, (and of course I use the term loosely), it’d go something like this:
CLICK. CLICK. (skis locked in) – WHOOSH… WHOOSH… WHOOSH… (feeling good, yeah!) – AHH AHHHHH (a little too fast) – THUD!
Then put that on repeat.

3.Well, to be fair to my old self, that soundtrack only applied for the first day, when the guy at the ski-hire place gave me the wrong skis & boots for my body size. Hello? I’m a kids’ size! Can’t you see my measurements on the form? Or do I need to write that on my forehead?!

The last time I was up there I could already skied alright, after taking proper lessons and lots of practice. So this time, when I put those boots on and they felt too heavy I knew something wasn’t right, but then thought to myself, well they’re the professionals, they should know what’s best for me. Turned out they didn’t! And it goes to prove that nobody knows one’s body like one does. Or as self-help books go, always trust your intuition. After a few stumbles on the trails, when every time I tried to steer, my feet practically moved inside those boots and my skis barged on in a direction of their own commands (cue Big Fat Purple Bruise), I decided that was it. So back and forth 3 times to the shop,  until I eventually got the right gear, not before having to endure quite a few condescending looks from that supposedly “pro skier” who sing-songly chimed “Oh but these are the lightest, most advanced boots we have”, which to me, was only supposed to mean “You’re a beginner, and an idiot. What do you know?”

Anyway, by the time I managed to talk to another assistant and got hold of 2 boots which were some 2kg lighter than the previous ones, the whole day was already  ruined and all my muscles were completely knackered. And I still had to pay a big chunk of dosh for all of this, you know. Not like they were free! Gosh, I’m still so freakin’ upset! Never go back to that shop again.

The second day was saved by the new set of boots and skis, so there was much less “thud” and much more “whoosh”, and my heart got to spend more time pretending it was an eagle than being a sea cucumber.  As I said to A., it kinda restored my faith in skiing again. So there has been talk about New Zealand next year. We’ll see. But at least next time? Next time I KNOW what boots and skis I’m going to get!

4. Snowboarding is the new cool. As least to the trend-followers that are Asians. (Hey, I am one of them, I possess the moral right to poke fun at my own kind. Hah!) If 8 years ago there was one boarder to about 10 skiiers, these days I’m sure snowboard sale has soared significantly. I myself was tossing about whether to take up boarding, because it looks fun, and plus A. can already ski very well and has been learning boarding since last year. But I thought I should at least get better at one thing first, so I stuck to the two sticks. Skiing seems so yesterday. But oh well, I’m into “vintage”. 😉

5. The kiddies at ski school were SO CUTE in their gear! Some were as young as two! Colourful little puff-balls scattered in the snow. All zig-zagging their way downhill behind their instructor, like adorable tiny ducklings behind mother duck. I reckon at that age they haven’t encountered enough accidents, endured enough pain, nor collected enough fear to be nervous on the slopes. Man, my kids (whenever they decide to pop out) are so gonna start early. Skiing, swimming, and dancing. That’s for sure. Ahem, talk about scary, pushy, overly ambitious mothers high expectation.

6. Skiing is much different to dancing. (“Well, DUH! Tell us something new! And stop comparing everything to dancing!”) But I can’t help it. What I mean is, even though they’re both about bent knees, balancing on the balls of your feet, and weight transfer between left and right; with dancing your centre of gravity should be over your heels, while with skiing you have to lean forward and centre your weight over the front of your feet. If that makes any sense. Anyhow, I developed a little chant that helped me keep my balance on the slopes, that went “Weight to the front! The front! The front!” and could be sung to the tune of “Bei Mir Bist Du Schon”. (Only the swing gang will get this one. hehe.)

Well, that’s about it. I think. You see? I just don’t do short entries.

~snow bunny~


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