2016年 12月 25 - 27日 (日 - 火)
Last Christmas, I was baking in the sweltering hot heat of Australia. This year, to save me from tears, I submitted myself to the cold climate of Japan. Oh noooo… how terrible...
Coming off the normie train, we waited for a charming French man to come collect us. Rocking up in a mini-van, we sped off to our accommodation. I looked to Hakuba Snowdrift Lodge for our snowy needs, based on word of mouth of a friend. And… I can’t say that I would revisit if I ever returned. That's not to say that it's a terrible place or anything; it's just not for me.
The staff were great, the in-house food was fantastic and the community couldn’t be any better. My gripes were that: the lodge wasn't the cleanest, a handful of bugs ran wild in the room and the hygienic facilities were lacking. Adding to that, the place was a fair distance away from the slopes, but the free buses made up for that -ish.
Staff weren't available until later, for the required orientation. This left us to loosely roam around the sparse encompassing area. Returning to the lodge, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that a bunch of the staff journeyed from Adelaide! It seemed that everyone we bumped into was Australian: the gear hire guys, staff at both of the lodges and the countless ones skiing alongside us. It was like never leaving home, a mini Australia if you will.
If orientation was already late, collecting our gear was even later. Leaving us to lose an arvo on the slopes. Disappointed with our place of residence, it compounded further when shown the rental clothes. The range was limited to ugly and unsightly, and sizing was meant for a future jacked or obese me. Normally an S, I ended up looking like a hobo with my Ls and XLs.
Later that Christmas night, we partied like animals (and by we, I mean not me). With newfound friends, they went loooong into the night while I went deep into slumber.
As the sun ushered in the new day, the guys left for their sole lesson, while the rest of us proceeded straight to the slopes. Up until the cable car ride up, I was feeling unnerved - though it didn’t take long for them to kick in.
Without stacking it, I managed to manoeuvre myself on the flat surfaces (if you call clumsily slipping back and forth "manoeuvring"). Building up a false confidence, I inched closer towards the slopes. Throwing myself in the deep end would surely help. Right? ~10mins of YouTube tutorials, show me what you got.
I was doing... surprisingly well. As expected, I fell over a couple hundred times but it was nothing bone breaking (pride, maaaaybe). With true confidence, I made a few more runs - not without me torpedoing right into the snow, of course. At many stages, my camera was completely caked with snow. Yay for weather sealing. Thanks, Fujifilm sponsor me.
It was fun… you know, when I could actually keep myself up. Other than that, I hate skiing with a passion. The skis are awkwardly long and messed with my legs far too often; especially when I needed to get back up after the inevitable falls. And my shins… my poor bruised shins.
After some decent runs, I realised that I hadn’t seen the girls this whole time and I had no way to contact them. Slightly worried, I made my way back up in hopes to find them. Seeing Carolyn’s backpack left me at ease, knowing that they have yet to leave me. Plonking myself down, I sat waiting for their arrival.
…
A fair bit of time passed and there still wasn’t any sign of them. Sliding about, I found them around the corner away from the slopes… building a meagre little snowman… I- wha-
Bitta nheh lunch at local eatery
Returning to the slopes the next day, I left my camera behind to focus on skiing. It was as if I became a new person; I couldn’t make it 2 metres without stacking it hard. Like a corrupted save file, whatever progress I made yesterday was lost. Making things more embarrassing, I always managed to end up veering towards the ski lifts, where every fall was observable to the skiers/snowboarders and to those travelling above. Oh and don’t forget the little groups of kids that would casually woosh pass. A nice boost for the ego.
It got so bad that multiple people on multiple occasions stopped to check if I was okay. One of the falls was so horrible that I just laid there, motionless from the pain... of embarrassment. Yesterday, I was stopping myself with the skis like: / \ and I thought to try and brake like the pros: \ \ to / /. It was ridiculous to think this was going to go well. Lurching forward on my face, I proceeded to roll onto my back and, like a snow angel, slid down the slope…
I barely made 3 runs, while the others went on and on... Should’ve snowboarded - no, wait… I should’ve gone sledding! That would’ve been perfect.
The body battering marked the end of our time on the slopes. Bags ready and packed, I holed up in the lodge ready for the sun to shine on the new day. Tomorrow was going to be the start of the Tokyo leg. Thanks for reading and come along with me next time, as I get my cray on.