Tripping the ski, or over the ski

Day 2 - we were up just after seven, having breakfast by eight and on the slopes by nine. Ski gear. Here's what you wear - a thermal base layer (spencer and long johns) to keep you warm and absorb sweat, super thick woolly socks, a fleece jacket for extra warmth, and then your breathable, waterproof, wind resistant ski pants and jacket.

I went to the local outdoor store to buy my thermals. They had some nice stripey stuff but unfortunately nothing on sale in my size. So I bought the polka dot set. Now I've learned that polka dots are the new black. Like the spots on a leopard, they camouflage most rolls. Now look quick coz these pics may not be here next week. ;)




In case you're wondering why it took two hours from waking to skiing, it was because Wiebke and I got our ski boots mixed up. Her feet were squeezed into my little ones and I was clomping around like a Tyrannosaurus. I got to the slopes, realized there was something wrong and then had to go clomping back to the ski rental place to get the right ones. Oh, I should mention, they adjust your skis to match your weight and the size of your boots so it was pretty important that I did it.

With the right ski boots on, I suddenly realized exactly how uncomfortable they were. Lord. Seriously, I have never been in more discomfort. It's fine while you're skiing but walking around in them is killer.

So, we get there and Patrick gives us a crash course in skiing. How to put your skis on, how to take them off, how to hold the poles, how to walk up the slope without falling. I had to ask how you get up once you fall and that puzzled him. He had to think about, then had to sit down on the ground and get up so I could see how it's done. (Once you realize that Patrick hasn't fallen down while skiing for about three years, it starts to make more sense.) Well, it didn't really help though coz on day four, I was still falling over and lying there on my ass until help arrived.

So the thing about skis is that they just go. If you stand on them, they will just start sliding in one direction or the other. Sameer crashed into a fence and I fell into a ditch, just from standing up. And if you're new to it, you have this thing where you feel yourself slipping, and then you just slowly panic until you crash. :P Or say you fall down and you try to get up, you put your weight on the skis and they just start slipping away from you until you're flat on your back again.

The trick is to angle your skis at 90 degrees to the slope of the mountain. That's the only way to stop it. Once you figure this out, you lose your fear, and then when you start slipping, instead of panicking, you just readjust your skis. Also, if you've fallen over, you first have to adjust your skis at the right angle to the slope and only then get up. This sounds fine, until you fall over with the skis in opposite directions and your knees bent inwards at a crazy angle. You can't move your legs, so you can't move the skis and the angle between your legs and skis is so wrong that you can't even reach the clips to release your ski boots. Yes, improbable as this may sound, it happened to me and I had to be rescued again.

Anyway we did that pretty much the whole morning. It was fun but really tiring. All the tromp, tromp, tromp up the slope (imagine walking sideways up a staircase, one step at a time - that's how it looks) and then sliding downwards, hoping not to fall, and then falling anyway.

What was really embarrassing was the little kids that came screaming down the hill. There was one little guy in a red suit, with a helmet and goggles. He must have been about four. He was literally about thigh high to me and Sameer. He'd come flying down this impossibly steep hill (we were only practicing right at the bottom of it, where it evened out), screaming in German. I imagine he was saying something like "Get out of the way, old lady!" Unfortunately I don't have a picture of him but here's one of some little munchkin all bundled up, carrying mom's skis.

On this thing about tiny people skiing down scary mountain slopes, let me just relay a story Patrick told us. He said his first memory is from when he was about two and a half. He was in one of those kiddy-carry hiking shoulder packs on his dad's back. And his dad was skiing down a mountain. 'Nuf said.

So Patrick went to ski the black trails (the difficult ones at the top of the mountain), and Sameer and I stayed on the baby slopes all morning. His two friends Pippa and Jonathan were also in that area. Pippa's skied before a couple of times, and Jonathan was like us, new to all this snow and stuff. He was learning to snowboard and he was really catching on fast. By midmorning we were kus and needed a drink, so we had one at the little restaurant/bar thingy right next to our slope.



After that, we were back on the slope. Tromp tromp tromp, slide slide slide. It's really quite fun, once you learn how to stop sliding off into all directions and we really enjoyed ourselves. Another thing I learned that morning was that you need to have sunblock and sunglasses on the slopes. You get so sunburnt from being out in the sun all day and the light reflects off all the snow and it can be really harsh on the eyes.

Lunch time came round and we went up two different cable cars to get there, to an altitude of 2690km. You go up this old fashioned cable car and everyone comes clomping in in their giant ski boots, with their skis and snowboards, helmets and goggles. And you pack in 'til you can barely breathe. And then up you go.

The restaurant we went to was called the Panorama restaurant and it had 300 degree views of the Alps. It was amazing. For lunch we had some traditional Swiss food. The one dish was called Rosti (with the s pronounced sh) and it's basically grated potato with a creamy sauce, topped with cheese. Sometimes they have other toppings on it as well, like bacon or veal. Sameer went with sunny side up eggs on top. I had something the name of which I can't remember. But it was basically macaroni and cheese, with potato cooked in, and it's served with sauteed apple mash on the side. Apparently this is quite a ski-related dish. It was very yum. A lot of their dishes were very pasta or potato heavy and I figured all that carbo loading is to prep you for more skiing.

So anyway, afterwards we went up to the observation deck to take some pictures. And here they are.


Then we went back down to the baby slopes to practice or stopping and starting. We fell over a lot and Patrick came down again to help out some more. This is where a video is really needed so I'm going to try to upload one that Florence took of us.

Anyway, by the end of the day my legs were killing me. Every time I took a step (walking, not on skis) I felt as though my shins were on fire. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was the seam of my thermal tights chaffing against my skin but stupidly put it off to what I was told was normal tight ski boot chaffing. Well, I was right. When I got back to the hotel room in the evening and took of my boots, I discovered this. First I almost passed out. Once the air hit it, it hurt even more. (Maybe it was psychological.) So I undressed, gingerly, and then lay down in the bed, and drew the covers over me. I didn't want to move. But, unfortunately I had to get up to shower and dress as we were supposed to meet the rest of the guys for dinner.

We had dinner at the restaurant that was at the bottom of the slope we were at all day. Most of the people had stayed on there after they were done skiing and were still clomping around in their ski boots and ski clothes. I felt miserable but soon got over it. Without the constrictive tights and boots, my blisters started to hurt less. Also, everyone was in such a good mood that I perked up. They were all drinking Gluhwine - a strong, heated, spiced wine - which is another traditional ski drink. And they were playing something called Destiny (I think that's what it was). Basically, you have to drink with your left hand otherwise you have to down your drink. Needless to say, people were very "perky" by the time dinner was over. Florence was ill so she left really early, and we left around midnight when the rest of the party moved on to the bar. Apparently they were there until about two in the morning, quite a feat considering that they were all back at breakfast by eight sharp the next morning.

Because we didn't stay on, we didn't get to see them play the "Nailing" game at the back of the restaurant. It's a traditional Swiss game where someone hits a nail into a tree and then passes the hammer around. Each person gets to hit the nail once and the person who finally bangs the nail in flat wins. Much later that night, the other MBA peeps ended up playing the game but we were already in bed by that time.