Michelle Goes Skiing!

This photo is just a silly shot of Holt wearing, yet again, another non-hat item on his head. My youngest son seems to be obsessed with wearing things on his head. I can’t quite figure it out.

So, my big news for this post is that I am learning how to ski! What makes this even more amazing is that the man teaching me knows about fifteen words of English. Let me start at the beginning.

For a reason completely unclear to me (but I’ve come to accept that feeling, as it happens with such great frequency), all the teachers in the area went skiing on Friday afternoon. School ended early, with all the students going home at one o’clock. At one-thirty, we gathered at the local ski hill (I’ll have to take some photos for another post). Originally, I had been skeptical about my participation in this eveny. I’m a Texas girl. My daddy taught me how to water ski. Well, he tried, at least. I didn’t tell my Japanese friends, but I’ve never really been able to stay up out of the water for more than a few seconds. Shhhhh…. I talked with Kurata and discovered he can’t ski well either. I made it clear to him that I have never even touched a pair of skis, much less put them. He was very encouraging, and told me to come anyway, if I could. Past teachers from Juneau have left behind many things, including several sets of skis and boots. I decided that if I found boots in the garage that fit me, I would go. Sure enough, I found some dirty, cobwebby ski boots that I could slip into. My fate was sealed. We made a mad dash to Nayoro on Thursday night in an effort to acquire some snow pants for me. Friday morning, Aaron went online and researched which pair of skis would be the right length.

So, there I was, standing amidst was seemed to be seasoned skiers, with my borrowed ski gear and brand spanking new pants. Kurata wasn’t there yet (i.e. some one who speaks English), so I made up my mind to be positive and brave. Having decided this, my first goal was to figure out how to put on the blasted ski boots. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought, but then I tried to walk. I don’t think I ever appreciated my ankles until I was no longer able to move them. A few of my teacher friends snickered as I hobbled up to where everyone was gathering, trying to figure out how the heck to walk in my boots. Fortunately, everyone is really wonderful, supportive, and good-natured, so I felt comfortable, despite my near-immobility.

I found my “beginner” group and waited. I have to digress here a moment to mention what it’s like when Japanese people gather in a group to listen to some one, especially prior to some sort of event. I truly believe that they are completely incapable of standing in an unorganized group. Without even really thinking about it, much like birds migrating south, they slowly begin to organize themselves into lines and rows. My line was five people long. The one next to me was only three, so my friend Kaiko grabbed my coat and gently pushed me into the next line over so they would be even, I presume. The same arrangement “thing” happened just before we played mini-volleyball, too. Shortly after we assumed parade formation, one ski instructor spoke. Bowing and clapping. Then, one of the principals spoke (this was teachers from all three schools). More bowing and clapping. Then Mr. Kamaya spoke. More bowing and clapping. I sort of tuned the whole thing out. I think of it as a survival skill – if I try to understand everything, I’ll go nuts. Finally, it was time to warm up. That’s right, warm up – as a group. One teacher came to the front and led us in some stretching exercises. Except you can’t really do squatting and bending exercises in ski boots. I just laughed. Quietly, of course.

After our warm up, we broke into our groups and began. Kurata helped me put my skis on. Unfortunately, we discovered that after putting my skis on, I was now facing the wrong way. It was then that the hilarity of the situation really struck me. I was standing in skis, with my back to the instructor and the rest of the group, completely surrounded by a language I can’t understand. What was I doing?! We managed to get me turned around in between bouts of hysterical laughter and finally got down business. Kurata helped translate a little bit, but it was difficult.

We practiced turning in circles for a few minutes and then began walking sideways up the hill a little ways. Sounds easy, but try to imagine walking upstairs with brooms tied to your feet. I was doing okay, and only a little nervous about going up. Then the sliding started. At first it was just a little, and I was able to stop myself. But I was a little nervous because the group was outdistancing me and I wanted to catch up. As I tried to readjust a bit, I slid even more, slowly turning my body around until I was looking up the hill. This is not a good position to be in, by the way. One shouldn’t be facing uphill. When you face uphill, the next thing that happens is that it begins to move away from you quite quickly. Helpless to stop myself, I began to slide backwards down the hill. So, I was finally skiing, just not the right way. Fortunately I fell pretty quickly and one of the instructors came over to help me up. It was then that I learned that the fun is only beginning when you fall. Then you have to get up. After a great deal of heaving, pulling, and giggling (on my part), Mr. Itoh finally helped me up. Of course, ten seconds later I fell again. I just couldn’t seem to get control over my feet.

To make a long story short, Mr. Itoh ended up staying with me the entire time. He helped me learn how to “snow plow” (I taught him that word) down and walk my way back up. I only went down a very short slope. He soon figured out that I wasn’t kidding when I told everyone this was my first time. By the end of the first session, I could sort of stop myself. After our break, he apologized and let me know he needed to rejoin the other beginner group. He then gestured for me to continue practicing the snow plow move. I was more than happy to comply. The others tromped back up the hill to higher elevations. Me and my lonesome little self went back down a bit to practice stopping. As I tired, I stopped occasionally to watch the other teacher skiing. Often, one of them would ask me, “Daijobu?” – are you okay? I would wave and answer, yes, and would be answered with a cheer and “Gambate!” This word has multiple meanings in English: keep it up, good luck, go for it, etc. I think I scored a lot of points with my persistence.

After skiing, we re-convened at the hotel for a dinner party. Mr. Itoh took the opportunity to apologize to me for having me just go around and around. I assured him it was fine, but he seemed a little disappointed with himself. Later, during the “second party” in the bar, he continued to apologize. I think he was also a bit frustrated by his lack of English. He really doesn’t speak much. I think I can probably remember every English word he used. So, using Kurata to translate, he insisted that I come back on Sunday for another lesson. He was determined to teach me to turn. How could I refuse? Especially since other people have to pay for their lessons, and mine was free.

So, today, I spent another two hours on the slopes, learning how to ski from a man who only speaks Japanese. I must say, this was not a position I ever imagined I would find myself in. However, he is a good teacher, because now I can stop and turn left and right. Mostly. At least I didn’t fall today!

Everyone at dinner was asking about Aaron and Ridge skiing. I would like for Ridge to give it a try, and I think we can make it happen. However, there were many, “Ah…so…nai..” (ah, I see, nope) when I told the men what size shoe Aaron wears. He thinks that some of the skis in the garage may fit him, though. Maybe we will order some boots for him online. It is really seen as a family activity here in Nishiokoppe – skiing. One of the ski instructors was telling me that it is really important for him to see whole families skiing together. So, we will see. Maybe Aaron can get some Japanese ski lessons, too!