I went skiing yesterday. Oh gosh. I went skiing. It’s true. I actually went skiing. They took me on the bambino slopes, but, the only part of the hills which were remotely like bunny hills was the fact that they were full of little kids who were whizzing around SO much more proficient than me. It’s humbling. I felt like such a little kid, because the dad was helping me put on my shoes, and my sister was buckling me into the car. Oh gosh. I also fell so many times yesterday. I stopped counting after 15. All I know is that, the ground was flat one moment, and then, SPLASH! I’m on the ground. When I say splash, it’s the same sort of splash you get when you run into a brick wall. I took quite a few spills yesterday. The dad is really similar to what I’m used to. He taught me how to get back up on my skis once (it’s difficult, you need good technique), and then let me sort myself out for the rest of the day. I had taken another spill on a slope with a 2 degree incline, and he stood there, watching me get up. It took at least four tries, then I finally got up. It’s the take your kids by the hand to the bottom of the pool analogy. I don’t think I’m blue anywhere, but then again I haven’t examined myself. I’m thankful that I don’t bruise easily. It gives me a chance to believe in my inner Viking. It’s really difficult for us ballerinas to face the fact that we can barely walk in certain contraptions.
However, the slopes were completely beautiful! I hope to take more pictures of them today when I am skiing, because yesterday I barely took any. I was a little more intent on survival. Later on in the afternoon, when I was still tackling the slopes, it got pretty overwhelming. I wanted to cry when I was on the mountains. I think that’s because I was in so much pain, and I couldn’t see the bottom of it, and I didn’t catch them saying in French that we weren’t going the whole way down. However, in typical fashion, I took a deep breath and kept going. Never did it cross my mind, I can’t do this. That really never crossed my mind. I only thought wow it’s going to take a ton more effort to get down. I felt a little bit like a kitten someone left on top of a fridge.
The family felt a little bad for making me ski for so long, and promised me that today and Sunday it will be shorter. However, I do understand that sometimes I make my own problems. There was a certain ski lift which I couldn’t get up, because it was considerably steeper than any which I had tried. I had tried three times to go up it, each time being chucked off to the side. Now, I do cut myself some slack for my inability to get up this ski lift because my strength was diminishing, but still, if I would’ve been able to get up that lift it would’ve saved me bunches of problems further down the hill.
Okay so all’s well if I’m the only person out there who’s not slopeworthy, but it wasn’t that way. There was a girl on a snowboard who came and knocked me over and we slid a good 20 meters together. The whole time she was saying “j’suis tres desolee” and I’m saying “ce n’est pas un problem!” mdr. At least it was a tumble which wasn’t my fault! Not to mention I can’t even move today. Stairs. Stairs are complete beasts.
Afterwards, at the bottom of the mountain, when we were having some refreshments, the dad was telling me about how the Swiss Franc was strong and it wasn’t a good thing. I felt SO much at home. It’s all the same, except in French (and some German). I was drinking iced tea, and my siblings were having chocolate milk, and the smell of the dad’s beer made me remember all the times I’ve gone to Swiss Chalet with my family. It’s so ironic because Swiss Chalet is really not very Swiss, nor does it resemble a chalet in the slightest. It’s so North American (I’m disdaining it just the same as if i was saying so mainstream…)
Last night as I tried to fall asleep, every time I closed my eyes I felt my feet moving uncontrollable underneath me, and me keeling over to the side again. Oh well. That won’t stop me from skiing again today because I think it will be much easier.
My days are completely full of me saying “wow! I’ve never seen that before!” It’s such a great experience. I ate wapiti and horse meat at supper. Wapiti is fantastic, not gonna lie. Horse meat is cool too, with large striations in the tissue but it was good nevertheless. I knew that I had never eaten horse meat before, but I didn’t know if it was available in Canada. At least, I don’t think it’s common to eat horsemeat. It’s common here. The dad said (with a very straight face) “yes, and next week we eat cat”. mdr. The same humor I’m used to… 😛
Their democracy is really cool over here. At the supper table, the parents were discussing about what they should vote for about whether or not workers should have 6 weeks of vacation per year or not. It’s so cool. They don’t have a president; they have a Federal Council.
They say that they have a lot of immigrants here, but I have my doubts. I think their version of a lot is different than our version. I don’t think they comprehend what it’s like for Caucasians to be a minority.
They have a cool machine which they use to warm cheese trays in the bottom, and the top is a stone which is a grill. It heats up, and you cook your meat on it. Literally, they pass around a platter of raw meat, you take a few pieces onto your plate, and, one at a time, you watch your meat cook in front of you. Oh gosh. It’s so cool!
For the record, I am the clumsiest thing a Swiss slope has EVER EVER seen. I rest my case.
It’s funny, the other night at a restaurant, I had a “juliette crepe” which had rigolo, fromage, et tomates on it (arugula, cheese and tomatoes) and the waiter was trying to make some joke about finding me a Romeo. I just laugh and feign comprehension sometimes.
The restaurant was beautiful. After seeing Sherlocke Holmes (in french) and stepping outside the theater into a European setting, I still felt like I was in the movie. It’s a different feeling than the typical anticlimactic “back to the true north biting winds” feeling. Honestly last time I saw that movie I saw it with Becky. Now, when I watch it again, I see how many people die in the movie. It’s sad. I’m way less desensitized to it now. I still want to see Sherlocke Holmes a few more times, in English. There’s so much to be understood. Because it was in French, the words slipped right past me, for the most part. I was too distracted by the screenplay and camera action, (Steven Spielberg is an absolute genius) and the score. The score was SO well done. Oh gosh. There’s so much detail which you really only pick up if you’ve seen it once, and on your second time through, you’re not paying attention to the words. It’s down to the detail of having the same rhythmic motif for each time that the chess piece reappears.
I feel so much at home in this family. They were joking around, and the said “Welcome to our family, but I don’t think we told you everything beforehand. We are very different. We aren’t so sure you’ll survive.”
Epic lol. 😀 I’m more than surviving. It’s 5 star.