Last Christmas one of my cousins asked: “Who is joining our family on a ski trip?” “That would be me!”, I replied. After confirming I wasn’t joking around we made arrangements. “We always go to Alta Badia, in the northern part of Italy,” my uncle explained. “It is a beautiful area and we get along well with the owner of our pension.”
I’ve always said I would go on a ski trip one day, yet it was never a priority for me. Now this opportunity presented itself and I decided to take it.
Our group counts eight people: my uncle and aunt, their three children, two partners and myself. It’s about a ten hour drive from Den Bosch to the town of San Cassiano, the town where we are staying. Anna, Vera (two cousins) and Callum (Vera’s boyfriend) join me in my car. Plenty of time to catch up and to get to know Callum better. A couple of conversations, a podcast, some music and sandwiches later, we arrive at our destination where the rest of our group is awaiting us. “What took you guys so long?!?” My uncle smiles.
We walk around the cute little town of San Cassiano to get some ski-passes for the week, a couple of beers and dinner. Everyone is excited for tomorrow.
The sun is bright and shining as we finish our breakfast and get ready to head out. The pension offers a shuttle bus to bring us to- and pick us up from the ski area. Lifts are taking us to various ski slopes varying in difficulty. We start of with a blue slope as both Callum and myself have never skied in the mountains before. “Scratch the pizza-slice-shape,” my uncle says, “let me show you how to ski keeping your feet parallel.”
After an elegant crash with snow in my face, I figure out what went wrong and finish the whole slope without falling. Wow, this is so much fun! The warm sun is on my face in a gorgeous area and the adrenaline is rushing through my veins as I make speed. And how special it is to experience this for the first time with family.
As the day progresses everyone is going their own speed and we meet up at the end of the slopes. The longer we ski, the more tired my legs get and I make a few unintended flights through the air. I don’t mind falling as I’m obviously learning a new skill. Anytime I lose a ski or when I’m having trouble getting up a random person stops and helps me to keep moving. Kindness is everywhere.
When we take a break for lunch and sit down I order a large beer and a spaghetti Carbonara. The sun on our face feels so good. The atmosphere is relaxed and we’re evaluating the morning, while giving our bodies some well-deserved rest. “Wow, I’m really impressed by how quickly you and Callum picked it up!” my cousin says. “Perhaps you guys can join us on a red slope tomorrow!”
The next day is very foggy and we can’t see further ahead than 15-20 meters. I find it scary to ski when I can’t see where I’m going; when I don’t know if I have to make speed because there is a hill coming up or when I have to slow down because there is a steep drop coming up. As a result I’m going slower than yesterday and there is fear in my body. As a result of that I fall more. I get annoyed. At one point I even ski backwards (not by choice), can’t find a way to break, and crash with a flip off-track to find myself sliding down a hill. By that time my enjoyment level is at -4.
We take a quick break for coffee and I call in a team meeting with my body and my mind. My mind wants to keep going, but my body (probably influenced by my subconscious mind) is getting scared and wants to protect my vulnerable knee. I get them both on the same page and put on some piano music to calm my nerves. I get back at ease and am thoroughly enjoying the subtle movements again: to the left.. to the right.. to the left.. Yes! This is the feeling I was looking for!
Then, out of nowhere and for no obvious reason, my left ski slips and I land on my left shoulder, which makes a bone-crushing sound. Oh boy.. This is no good. My uncle and aunt are right behind me and ski towards me. “Remove my ski’s!” I shout as I’m laying flat on my belly. When I’m finally on my back I start to feel nauseous. My sight turns black and I pass out.
It feels like I’ve been gone for hours, when I open up my eyes. I realize it wasn’t a bad dream when I see concerned faces bended over me. “Are you OK? That didn’t seem like a very bad fall, you passed out for 10 seconds.” A few minutes later a snowmobile shows up and two guys do some tests with my shoulder. “It seems to be dislocated, you probably want to go to the hospital.”
They drive me down to the bottom of the slope and my uncle brings me to the hospital. The assistant makes a copy of my passport, writes down my address information and then I can see the doctor. No questions regarding medical insurance. I guess that will sort itself out later. The doctor touches my shoulder, takes some scans and comes to the same conclusion as the guys on the slope: dislocated. However, the fall damaged the back of my shoulder, so I have to wear a sling for three weeks. This also means my ski adventure is over. On the second day.
But you know what: I’ve had a great 1.5 day where I could experience why everyone who goes skiing regularly is so excited about it: the fresh air in the mountains, the sun on your face, the beautiful environment and the thrill of going down a slope. And even though this situation isn’t according to my preferences, I can also see the joke in it. Here I am, going on a week long ski trip, to be stopped in my tracks on day 2. Sometimes life doesn’t give you what you want, but rather what you need. I guess I’ll figure out what that is later.
Luckily my legs are just fine and I fill the remaining days with long walks. I hike alongside rivers and through mountains to meet the others for lunch. I listen to podcasts along the way, as the snow is crushing underneath my feet. I am thrilled to find out I’m still able to play the ukulele, while enjoying spectacular views from mountain tops.
At the end of every afternoon I find myself in the spa at the pension, which houses multiple sauna’s, steam rooms and a rest area.
Plenty of time for relaxing, reading and writing. The ski trip turned more into a vacation then what it originally was intended to be. Perhaps that was what I needed?
The week comes to an end and I’ve really enjoyed spending time with my family. Most of them I typically only see for a couple of hours at someone’s birthday. Now we got to spend a week together and sat down for three meals a day.
I got to know them better and I got some insights into the family dynamics. There is never a dull moment as not one meal goes by without someone cracking jokes or trying to tease another family member. At the same time everyone has been very considerate: first on the ski slope and later whenever I could use help with anything because of my shoulder situation.
Would I have signed up for the week to unfold as it did? No, I wouldn’t have. It did, however, give me a good opportunity to practice embracing whatever happens and trying to make the best out of every situation. Next time I’ll go diving.
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