Learning to Ski in South Tyrol
Over the years of living in South Tyrol, I’ve come to realise a few things. One of them is that learning to ski is similar to learning a foreign language – it would have been much easier if I had started as a child.
Growing up in sunny Southern California, snow and rain were novelties to me. It’s safe to say that I didn’t spend my winters in Aspen. The first time I had skis on my feet was when I was 23. That’s approximately 20 years too late for the average South Tyrolean. So, what did that mean for me? I had a lot of lost time to make up for!
My first ski lesson took place on our local mountain, the Rittner Horn. To say I was unprepared would be an understatement. Fortunately, my ski instructor brought me a mishmash of equipment he found in his attic: pink poles, skis that were too long and boots that were too big – it was certainly better than what I had, which was nothing. I didn’t even own a pair of ski pants; I just doubled up on yoga leggings and hoped for the best.
At last, the time had come – the moment I hadn’t been preparing for my entire life. It was time to ski! There was no turning back.
Once we were on the slope, my instructor explained how to position my skis in a V shape to make turns. I blurted out “Like pizza!” to which he replied, “Uh, no. Pizzas are round.” Right, how uncultured of me! Moving on.
Do you know how they call someone a “natural” when they are really good at something from the beginning? Well, if you look in the dictionary, you might just find a picture of me under the antonym.
We slowly zigzagged our way down a couple of times. Although my instructor initially laughed at my two-ply yoga pants, he later admitted they were helpful because he could see my mistakes without any baggy ski pants obstructing the view. Ha!
If you’ve ever been to the Rittner Horn, you know that the last hill before the bottom is quite steep. To a beginner like me, it looked like the hill of death. In fact, I had already envisioned a little cross on the side of the mountain with my name and the epitaph, “She tried and then she died.” Not only did I “pizza” my way down, but my instructor was in front of me, braking backwards to help me make it to the bottom in one piece. When we finished, I thanked my lucky stars and my instructor and ended the day with a satisfying round pizza at the Burgerstube. It was a good day.
That winter, I went skiing several times with my husband. I skied down easy slopes and rode the ignorance-is-bliss wave of not knowing all of the things I was doing wrong. It’s like when you start speaking a new language, and you’re blissfully unaware of all the mistakes you are making.
However, as we ventured onto steeper slopes, an ugly feeling started to grow inside me – fear. I couldn’t help it; it began to consume me. Some days, my legs would tremble uncontrollably, my mind would turn to mush, and I would forget everything I had been taught. Any confidence I had was gone with the wind.
Bending over backwards, tripping and stumbling – when you’re learning a foreign language, these are just figures of speech, but when learning to ski, things take a literal turn. Nevertheless, I refused to let fear hold me back from enjoying something that so many people in South Tyrol love.
So what did I do? I purchased all the necessary equipment (including ski pants!) and made myself financially obliged to keep trying. Leaving the ski shop with my hands full and a hole in my pocket, I confidently declared, “That should do the trick!”
Now, after numerous ski sessions, and countless lessons, my legs no longer shake, fear doesn’t consume me, and I can even navigate black slopes – albeit not very gracefully. But that doesn’t matter to me! I love skiing, and it deepens my love for South Tyrol even more.
I used to only enjoy activities that I excelled at, things that came naturally. However, I now have a profound appreciation for the feeling that arises when I challenge myself, confront my fears and venture beyond my comfort zone.
On that note, see you on the slopes!
Tschüss, pfiati, ciao, bye-bye!
