Mountains, Skiing and (alot of) Beer

The next day my sister and I decided to try to get to the highest point (that we could physically get to) in the mountains. First, we had to walk to where the trams took us up the mountain. We had to buy a ticket for the day, which wasn’t cheap. (we were figuring that out really fast) Once we bought the tickets we hopped on the first little tram (which was a glass bubble that held about 4 people). It took us up to the first mountain – “Blatten” (and, if you can say this without spitting all over yourself then I will buy you a beer!)

The minute we hopped off there was a photographer there taking pictures with his dogs with the Matterhorn in the background. We couldn’t resist:

After that, the next tram took us up to “Riffelberg”. Then, we got on a larger tram that we had to wait awhile for to get to “Trockener”. We were slammed in with about 50 other people with skis and snowboards. (which, is a little intimidating considering we’re dangling miles above the earth like sardines). Then, again, we got on another tram to the highest point - “Matterhorn Glacier Paradise” which is at 12,736 feet.

We had hot chocolate in the little restaurant up there (can you imagine working so high up everyday?) and then started down. By the time we got back into town we inquired about ski lessons. I gruff man at the ski lesson counter told us all private instructors were sold out that day. We were also finding out that absolutely no one (except for the tourists) had a personality in this town. So, we found a place to have a drink after walking around and realizing that we couldn’t even afford a polar fleece hat with little horns on it (54 CHF which equates to $66.53). Once in the bar we also realized that most restaurants and bars do not serve food until after 7 (but, you can sure as hell drink before then!) and only until 8:30. So, try not to gnaw your arm off until then and set your alarm because anytime after that – no food! So, that’s when I order a BIG beer! (r.d. would appreciate this)

The next day we went back to the ski instruction place. No gruff man this time, a very nice woman said, “Oh, Daniel is available” (for 240 CHF – you do the math). “Oh, that sounds nice, ok, we’ll take Daniel.” – little did we know….

The woman pointed us to a place on the map that we were to meet our instructor – “Sunnegga Paradise” and that we could rent our ski equipment there. So, we walked to the place we thought we should be. Another nice guy rented us our skis, poles and boots and said we could leave our regular boots there. We (again) pointed to the map we were given and asked how to get to the place we needed to be to take the lift to meet our instructor and was told (again) that we just had to go across the street and meet the bus and it would take us to Sunnegga. We hobble out of the ski place walking like elephants with broken legs. (how do people walk in these things?) As I said before the roads and sidewalks of Zermatt were caked with ice and snow and one moment you'd be walking along just having a jolly good time and next be on your ass. This happened several times – walking along, talking to my sister, realize she’s not beside me, look back and she’s laying in the road. So, just in regular walking boots it was precarious at best let alone these stiff, plastic boots that didn’t have any give to them.

By the time we hobble to the bus stop (I am covered in sweat) there is no bus and we’re going to be late meeting our instructor. It is then my sister wants to start asking people if this is the right place. I mean, we’ve already asked half the town and they all gave the same ambiguous answer so what’s the point? We show a taxi driver the map and ask if the next bus will take us to this place of Sunnegga. He grunts in German (by this time I am getting so tired of non-directions, looked at like I’m an idiot and nothing -no spoken or written anything in English – yes, my fuse is getting short). A bus pulls up and we pile on with 100 other people in ski equipment and I fight my way to the front to the bus driver and ask is this will take us to the stop we need. He shakes his head and grunts in German what I think is no. We get off the bus. The next bus comes and the taxi driver points to it and grunts in German – that must mean “yes”. So, we get on the bus – we’re the only ones on the bus and the bus driver grunts something to us (we don’t understand, of course) and drives straight to the bus garage, backs the bus in, grunts something else in German, gets off the bus (locking us in!) and jacks the bus up like he’s fixing it.

This is when I have a GRAND ol’ AMERICAN hissy fit. I ranted and raved for the exact amount of time it took for the guy to fix the bus. My sister was like “Shhhh, he’ll hear you” and I was like “I DON’T CARE! He probably can’t understand me anyway! NO ONE IN THIS TOWN DOES!!” So, the bus driver comes back on the bus (I feel much better by then) smiles and nods to us and takes us to the place for the lift to Sunnegga. This wasn’t the place we thought we needed to be. In fact, it was all the way across town and instead of buses and hobbling all over town we could have just gone there. Sigh.

This ski lesson better be good.

Piling onto this train car (after buying yet another ticket) that actually takes you in a tunnel up the mountain we got off at Sunnegga. And, met our instructor, Daniel. Who was a very crotchety Italian guy. Wonderful. (I need a BIG beer by this point) Daniel made us ski down this baby slope teaching us turns and so forth. When we did the turns he wanted us to exaggerate everything – meaning that since we leaned on the outside leg to turn he wanted us to put both our hands down at that knee. So, we looked like a cross between solid gold dancers and crazy people going down the bunny slope. No one else had to do this with their ski instructors. I longinly looked at this cute female instructor helping a kid up and saying "Oh, are you all right?!" Sigh.

Finally, we graduated to a real slope and my first attempt down was rolling down in a ball ass-over-tea-kettle and launching myself into a drift on the side of the mountain. (my sister laughing in the background) Daniel skis up and just looks down at me and said, “Yooo go too fast! Yooo need to turn! Yoooo no fall DOUN next time, no?” I get up brushing the snow thinking about this:

The next time we go down the slope Daniel wants us to put both our ski poles together and when we do the turns instead of putting our hands down (solid gold style) by our knees to put both poles there. He said, “Yooo go UP with dez poles and yoooo go DOUN wid dez poles, no?” and started skiing down the mountain doing dis, I mean, this.

(This is me imitating Daniel "....zee go DOUN wid dez poles")

I turned to my sister and said, “Did you do this in your ski lesson in Fisch?” and she said “No, dis – this bullshit”.

So, here I go again trying to do this ridiculous thing and again roll end over end down the mountain only this time hitting the icy side of the slope. By the time I manage get up Daniel is shaking his head and saying “Noooo, noooo you dint go up wid dez poles or DOOOUN!” I feel my American fit coming back thinking, “You stick de pole UP de ass and then I push you DOOOUN de slope, buddy!”

Riding up the lift my sister asked me what time it was and I said 2:15 and she was like “OH OH! – we have 45 more minutes and have to go down the slope 3 more times!!” We had hired him for 3 hours!!

Yeah, it was bad- by the end we paid Daniel good(riddance)bye and he pointed to the slope we’d been going down and said “Yoooos practice on dis slope tomorrow morning and den de afternoon you go to zat slope, no?” and pointed to another slope. We nodded vigorously and said “BYE!”

We did practice on the one slope the next day and didn’t hardly fall down at all (funny how one can do so much better without a grouchy Italian). But, (no surprise here) we had bought the wrong lift tickets up and had to buy another ticket every time we went down the slope. After making it without falling twice and seeing two helicopters land taking people off on backboards I turned to my sister and said, “We made it DOUN de slope without falling – twice!” She nodded “Yez” I said, “I say dis a success and that we stop while we’re ahead” She agreed and we went and sat out at the restaurant overlooking the slopes. As I’m having a beer and her a tea we saw Daniel going down the slope with his poles together and some (poor) student behind him doing the same – solid gold style.

Yes, I definately drink beer better than I ski!


(Me with my big beer thinking "I made it without breaking bones and killing Daniel! Dis a success, no?")