The Alps

View from my hotel window.

I skied in the Alps!!  Or, more aptly said, I learned to ski this weekend in Alps.  My Italian host family invited me on holiday to the mountains, and they had previously asked if I knew how to ski.  It's like riding a bike, right?  I skied 12 years ago, so I answered, "Yes."  

The first day, coming off the ski lift I was immediately on my butt.  I slowly gained vertical balance and followed our train of skiers down the slope.  My calf started intensely cramping, but I kept going out of sheer embarrassment that my physical condition was not good enough to ski!  Finally, I had to stop.  Turns out that my boot was on too tight, and once we loosened it I was good to go.  Novice.  

I was still the slowest one in the pack, and, probably because I work for an active travel company and I told them I knew how to ski, we were undertaking some intense slopes.  Standing at the top of each steep, icy section of mountain, my chest tightened.  I was petrified.  Flashbacks of breaking my wrist snowboarding a year ago coupled with visions of once again losing control led to an impressively slow ski to the base of the mountain (some prayers might have been involved, as well).  In fact, I arrived at the parking lot about a half an hour behind the head of our group.  I felt TERRIBLE!  I was holding back even the kids!  But everyone was extremely kind and patient.  In fact, the son of the family Ricki defended me, even though he was the most vocal complainer of having to wait.  He blamed it on a family friend, another slow girl, who was skiing in my section of the pack.  I tried to explain to him that she still finished in front of me, but he said she'd been skiing for years so there was no excuse. He, like his parents, is a very generous human being.  

My hotel room :)

We stayed in a small town in the Alto Adige region of Italy (about as far north as you can go before hitting Austria).  It was a gorgeous little ski community with rental shops, hot chocolate booths and warm restaurants surrounding the base of the peaks (all of which we explored).  

After the end of the first day, I solemnly promised myself that I would never have to go skiing again.  But then the next day game, with glorious sunshine and easy beginner slopes, and I felt like a little kid on the playground.  I had a BLAST!  We stopped for lunch at a popular restaurant at the top, with an outdoor fire and party music blaring.  We shared champagne and oysters, and I devoured a delicious, hot lobster spaghetti dish.  All was right in the world, and my mind frame about skiing was reversed.  I felt like I was getting the hang of it, so the future winter sport trips I had written myself out of started creeping back into view.  However, I will always have to choose skiing companions with a flare for patience.  And in the future I'll remember that skiing, at least for me, is NOT like riding a bike. 

A castle on the mountainside.