This is probably one of the "easy flowing" essays I wrote. It was written in January 2006 - my very first attempt at skiing. It's a long read but I guarantee a pleasurable reading experience....
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| Skiing in Hokkaido with fellow UNESCO scholar Nara from Mongolia |
“It's not because things are difficult that we dare not venture. It's because we dare not venture that they are difficult.” - Seneca
I skied in Hokkaido last week.
For those who know me, this is a remarkable feat. For one, not one of the 206 bones in my body is a ‘sporty’ bone. In fact, I almost hate all physical activities. I said almost because there’s one really physical activity I look forward to. ; )
Ok..ok..back to skiing…
Our visit to Hokkaido was actually for a study tour under the UNESCO programme. We learned about, of all things, bio-toilets. Biotoilets are composting facilities where they use your poo and pee as fertilizers to your veggies. Part of this so-called academic tour was a skiing activity. It’s optional, of course, as it’s a bit expensive (cost is about 6,000 yen). I was the first to sign up and everybody looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. I gave them my counter-looks which boldly gave them the message that I was dead serious.
Yes, yes…I realize the dangers, the hazards, the perils I was putting myself into. But when and where shall I have that opportunity again? So while others were still mulling over whether to go or not, talking about breaking bones and never walking again, I was already comfortably seated on the bus to Santa Ski Park.
My skiing saga was not without obstacle – in fact, it was all obstacles. First, the ski shoes. While everyone was already properly shoed, I was still trying my eight pair to see if they fit. You see, my calves were just too big to fit a size 25 shoe (my size). So I tried on pair after pair after pair. Finally, the exasperated attendant gave me a size 28 and walked away. This violated the first rule of skiing – wear properly fitted shoes. Next, the ski wear. The same attendant gave me a size L ski pants. Trying it on, it did not fit (of course!). Back to the counter with the sweetest smile and enough guts I can muster, I asked for bigger- sized pants. Now, the attendant, giving me that hey-why-don’t-you-just give-up-skiing-is-not-for-you-look and babbling unintelligible Japanese, gave me an LL. Back to the fitting room and this time, I can zip the pants but I could not secure the button. If you were in my ill-fitting shoes would you go back to the counter? So, there I was in my size 28 shoes and unbuttoned ski pants, trying to walk to the skiing ground. Ski shoes are heavy - no, VERY heavy.
The ski park has several slopes – practice, beginner, mid and pro. We were grouped in 3s and had 1 instructor (actually, very handsome students from Hokkaido University) for each group. We were first taught how to climb the slopes with skis on. Climbing itself was a big effort – I kept on slipping. You know, the law of physics on gravity and mass. After probably 30 minutes (5 minutes for others) and with my hopelessly patient, gorgeous instructor prodding me to go on, I reached the practice slope. Now, skiing basics – skis on inverted V-form, upper body upright, cut the ice to stop…blah..blaah..blaah. THEN I SKIED. The battle was between the slope and me. The slope won – hands down! I fell, tumbled and stumbled. IT WAS A MOST EXHILARATING EXPERIENCE! So the cycle continued – climb, ski and fall.
Enough practice, the instructors declared. Time for the real thing – the beginner’s slope. Others simply did not want to risk it. But I, true believer in the “no guts, no glory”, “no pain, no gain” cult, rode the lift to the top and seeing what I have to conquer, almost wetted my pants. The slope was way too steep and seemed insurmountable. My ever-patient instructor urged me to give it a go (in retrospect, I now think that he probably was enjoying all of it …). So, I went. I went so fast (again, gravity and all), faltered halfway and fell down so hard I laughed. I laid there in the powdery snow of Hokkaido and realized what I accomplished.
Yes, I took so much risk there but it was well worth it. I now have a better idea of what I can achieve if I will myself in doing it. The experience I had is a life’s lesson in taking risks. I could have chosen to comfortably laze around in my warm bed and feel safe instead I stuck my neck out and achieved something. I have pains and bruises all over my body as trophies. : )
By the way, I was midway the slope when I tumbled, so I still need to ski halfway down. Well, I maybe a risk-taker but I also have common sense. I walked.
