BLIZZARD

Hyperactive and his snowboard

The snowboarding neophyte and his superstar mentor

I love Hanazono!

Loose screws need love, too.

"I'm done," I told Chris. "I've had enough. This is not for me. I'm going back home."

"Home" is Ezo 365, our villa in Niseko.

"I thought you were having fun?" Chris said.

"I was," I agreed. "Yesterday. But not today, on a steeper slope, by myself. I can't do it."

"Practice," Chris suggested helpfully. "It's the only way for you to get better. Keep at it."

OK. I consider myself a fairly adventurous person. There are only two things in life that I fear: Frogs and Boredom. No, three. I also fear being a burden to anyone. I'm much too proud and sensitive. It sucked whenever my snow bunny friends would discuss which part of the mountain to take on next, but oh, hang on - will James be able to handle it? I was an awful lot of dead weight to lug around; it made me sick.

A winter vacation is expensive. It's a project you save up for all year, if not more. Getting yourself to snobbish ski resorts - located in parts of the world where there aren't a whole lot of people and therefore aren't on the route of your favourite budget airline - will immediately zap your bank balance. Accomodation, ski / snowboard equipment, daily access to lifts, absurdly overpriced food and drinks, some shopping if you're lucky... It's a commitment.

And so I felt awful knowing that I was keeping my friends, who have poured buckets of resources into this holiday, from doing the exciting runs that were matched to their skill and experience. Why did I have to insist on coming along?

WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?!

If this were the game of Survivor, I'd be the first one voted off the island!

"James, the tribe has spoken..."   

"I don't want to be a burden to anyone," I said with as little feeling as possible. Chris' pity was the last thing I needed. "You guys go ahead and do your thing. I'll go do my own thing. I'll take the camera and shoot photos around the village."

"But this is exactly the point when you have to keep trying," Chris pushed. "It's the only way you'll get better 'til you get to the point when you can actually do stuff on your own. I always assumed you'd spend a fair amount of time lounging around at home with your computer - but don't just throw the rest of the holiday away!" 

"This is my holiday, too," I countered. "I have to be having fun, too, right? You guys are having fun. I'm not. I'm unhappy that I'm scared of crashing on the slopes! I couldn't even get up on my board 'coz it was so steep up there! I'm embarrassed that you guys worry about me, considering how much money everyone paid to go on this vacation! So this is not fun for me. Not at all. I'd rather go around the village to gather some decent material for my blog!"

Phew.

Day 2 in Niseko and already, my inner drama queen broke free - even contained by five solid layers of clothing! Yuck, yuck, yuck.

By the way, this tragicomic exchange between myself and Chris happened at the foot of the Mountain Centre, right where everyone queues up to take the chair lift. I couldn't have picked a better place to have a hyperactive meltdown.

"We've all been where you are," Chris tried again. "It's a confidence thing. Perhaps it wasn't best to set you off alone on an unfamiliar slope first thing today, so your confidence is shot. But please give it one more try. You don't need to be doing this all day. You can take the afternoon off to take photos, if you decide that that's what you'd rather do."

I hung my head in defeat. I had run out of arguments.

"Wanna go on the chair lift together?" Chris invited, gently taking my hand. Even through the thick gloves, I could feel his warmth. How could I possibly refuse?  

I nodded weakly.

A few runs down what I call the "Baby Slope" - because it is literally ruled by impossibly athletic skiing babies, damn them - was just what I needed to restore my mojo. I must have crashed 48 times only, which was an improvement from the previous day. I could manage to snowboard backwards because I only knew how to use my toe-side edge. I hadn't yet learnt to use my heel-side edge.       

Enter my friend, Greg, to the rescue. For the next few days, through sunshine and snow to full-on blizzard, Greg was by my side to esnure that the captain of the Philippine snowboarding team learnt to fully control both edges of the snowboard.

Greg, at his ripe old age of (CENSORED), is a real daredevil snow bunny. Should we all be so blessed as to grow old as gracefully. Amen.

I was able to do two intermediate runs on Hanazono before Greg was finished with me. But I still couldn't do jumps. And cliffs. And trees. I just get spooked and panicky, then, my snowboard refuses to budge an inch. That's when Greg knows to maul me off my butt and kick me into gear. Thanks, Greg!

And thanks to Peter and Allen, who, with unqualified encouragement and support, made me feel like a star pupil. I love my friends.

"Thanks for persevering," Chris whispered into my ear as the gang enjoyed an après-ski cup of hot chocolate. Then he threw the same annoyingly irresistible, heartmelting, snow-melting, bajillion-dollar smile that made me fall in love with him almost five years ago. 

ASIAN FIT goggles - coz we simply don't have the massive nosebridge to keep this up, otherwise.

BE SMART!

Hanazono Cafe

I deserve to eat.

Is there such a thing as too much snow?

// HANAZONO //