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From panic to exhileration

From panic to exhileration

After a night on the beers, schnapps and giederwine, I am not exactly ready to face the hazard of my first-ever day of ski-ing. Especially when told that I can’t join the ski school because they’re all advanced and I’ve barely started.

So H decides to teach me the basics. Getting on the skis is fine, stepping parallel up the slope is kinda fine, but then we get into the messy business of actually ski-ing and snowploughing, and I pretty much panic like a loon every time that comes up. Especially since every time I feel like I’m gathering speed (above 1 mph it would seem) I instinctively make my feet go parallel – which of course speeds you up. So I fall on my ass, again and again, and generally am in a bit of a state and panic.

After a rather tense drink/lunch, we resolve to pay for a personal tutor to teach me the basics (and H some advanced stuff). And Toni is brilliant. A rock. I keep crashing into him, over and over, but by the end of it I’ve almost managed to pull off a snowplough, and have even made turns. Although this was mostly accidental and at one point almost managed to turn into the pathway exiting the slope and onto the street. As this is one of the most successful things I’ve accomplished this year, then great!

Now I have to tackle the insurance nightmare that is claiming for a lost snowboard. Is a rented snowboard and bindings really worth 280 Euros?

And in another first, H paid for me to have a sports massage, from a German guy with a talking beard who looked a bit like George Lucas. That, combined with a day trapping my right ankle inside a ski boot, has now fixed my bruised ankle problem. Now everywhere aches. But it’s good.

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