I know it´s long, but it was a really big day.
I saw the Swedish horror film Låt den rätte komma in (Let The Right One In) last night.It was by far the sweetest, most memorable and original horror movie I can imagine ever existed. Fantastic acting, brilliant ending, basically everything about it was great. I would see it again in a second, but it was a designated “Art House Monday” film and therefore only played two shows, both of which are yesterday. Anyway, if you are looking for a very good quality foreign film, and like vampires and bittersweet children´s love stories, this is the film for you.
After working at the Brewhouse from 9.30 to 16.00 yesterday, I managed to finally obtain my ISIC card (the picture on it is truly awful, I had just woken up) and went out for a ski alone before the actual ski practice itself began. It was intensely beautiful outside, the sun was setting and streaks of golden and pink light filtered through the trees and onto the snow, it was great. It´s always so quiet in the wintertime, and very surreal at Kincaid (where I ski Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday), especially when there aren´t many people out. It´s basically dead silent, glorious nature, but with a constant stream of aircraft flying alarmingly low overhead. Kind of a space-age feel, at times.
After I skied alone and all the kids showed up, we split into groups and ventured into the trees. I went with the fast group for once, on a loop trail that extends quite a considerable distance away from the chalet. We skied in complete darkness, which is hazardous enough as it is when you have only two coaches and 12 little kids to keep track of on a series of winding trails through a dark forest. (Naturally, our most important goal as coaches is to not lose anyone.) This was made even more exciting when, at the absolute furthest point from the chalet (e.i. where our cars were parked), my binding fell off my left ski. The trails are skiers-only. The kids thought this was hilarious, luckily, which lightened the mood a bit as I contemplated skiing all the way back on one foot, carrying my poles, my ski, and my binding. This, my dear readers, I can promise you, is more difficult than it sounds (and personally, I don´t think it sounds easy to begin with.) The kids and other coach soon skied away and I was left struggling through the snowy forest alongside the trail, carrying all my gear. I checked my watch. Twenty minutes until I had to be back.
These are the circumstances in which I found myself balanced precariously on a snowbank alongside a road, waving frantically through an armful of ski gear to any and all traffic passing by. After a few minutes of wondering if this was perhaps not such a good plan after all, an old truck pulled up alongside me and rolled down the window. A young wide-eyed couple stared out at me, surely cautious about the types that hitchhike along dark forest roads late in the evening. I shuffled eagerly up to the window.
“Hey, so…” I held up my ski in one hand, and my binding in the other. “You going to the chalet?”
Still eyeing me warily, the couple in the truck looked first at each other, whispered a bit, and then looked back at me. The young man climbed out of the cabin.
“Well, if you don´t mind…” he said, rolling up the cover on the bed of the truck. “There isn´t any room inside”.
Probably as good as it was going to get, right? I threw in my skis and then climbed in myself, half laying-down as to conceal my identity. It´s somewhat difficult to blend inconspicuously in with the shadows when the word “COACH” is written in huge, glow-in-the-dark letters across your back. This was no sight for parents. I squeezed my eyes shut for a few minutes as clouds of dust rose from the bed of the truck. Lay low, I thought to myself.
The nice couple in the truck pulled up right to the door of the chalet and I jumped out as quickly as possible, thanked them profusely, and ran out of sight. My classic skis were still in my car, so I skied to the stadium on those and found the kids playing a violent game of freezetag.
“WHOA!!” they exclaimed. “What happened to you?!”
I looked down. Dirt from the truck covered my jacket and pants.
“I… uhm… wrestled a moose and rode it back. It was really dirty”.