This was just too funny for me not to take a picture of.
And yes, that's Goglie Moglie in both English AND Georgian.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Swiss Flu
The "Swiss Flu" settled in our 3rd day in Tignes and kept me company for the remainder of our time in the Alps. If the CDC alert hasn't reached your area of the country yet, the "Swiss Flu" presents itself like adult onset Cystic Fibrosis with a touch of Ebola. I'll spare the rest of the gory details. Many tens of cups of tea were drunk with many tablespoons of honey. Cold medicines and echinacea tea, antiseptic lozenges and lots of OJ. Nothing could kick this nasty bug. Not even the antibiotics I received upon returning to Georgia. This sucker stuck it out for a total of 4 weeks. I must be one hospitable host.
Unfortunately, while it has moved on to bigger and better things, it hasn't moved far.
Seth's coughing as I write this.
He asks if next year I'll agree to get the Flu vaccine. Why? I never get sick once a year.
Unfortunately, while it has moved on to bigger and better things, it hasn't moved far.
Seth's coughing as I write this.
He asks if next year I'll agree to get the Flu vaccine. Why? I never get sick once a year.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
It's pronounced TEEns, not TIGness.
After a quiet Christmas at home with good friends we packed up our cold weather gear and caught a pre-dawn ride to the airport. We were off for a 2 week holiday in the Alps. Our destination for the first week was Tignes, France. Seth had made all the arrangements. The idea for this trip came about after friends of ours in Phuket, Thailand told us they were going to be in Switzerland for a wedding of New Years and asked if we would be interested in meeting up with them their for some skiing. Seth took the reigns and began doing research on places to ski in the area. He has been looking into Telemark skiing for the past several months and was interested in finding a company that taught lessons in this style of skiing. He came across a British company that was holding a course in Tignes and things began to fall into place.
The journey began with a 5:00 am flight on Turkish Air to Istanbul, Turkey. From there we were to catch a connecting flight on to Geneva, Switzerland. Seth and I laughed our way through the flight to Istanbul. It was a pre-dawn flight where most people are only interested in slipping back into the dreams they were shaken out of hours earlier. The crew had other plans. Announcements were made at a volume that ensured the birds outside could hear them, the seat belt chime went on and off constantly and the cabin lights were either on full power or blackout mode with no time wasted on subtle transitions in illumination. When the plane landed in Turkey, instead of taxiing to our gate at a gentle coast our pilot hit the gas causing several of the impatient passengers who had already gotten up to reclaim their overhead baggage to go stumbling backward into one another.
Once in Geneva we made our way to the bus pick up to find our ride to Tignes. We walked up and down the line of buses asking if this was the bus to Tignes and were answered with confused shakes of the head and waves of the hand. A man behind us had over head one such exchange and informed us that what we thought was a town named TIG-ness was actually a very French village named TEENS. Oops. We found the bus, set out for a 4 hour ride up into the mountains on switch back roads with beautiful views.
Upon arrival we checked into our hotel (which turned out to be the original hotel in the town before it grew into the resort it is now) and received a call from the leader of the Telemark course. He took us to a rental shop in town, helped us get set up with our equipment and we followed him to a near by restaurant where the other participants were waiting. The other TWO participants. It turned out that only 3 people had signed up for Telemark lessons this week and I was the loan Alpine (downhill) skiing student. Of the 3 Telemarkers, Seth was the only true novice which meant that classes were divided up in such a way that he and I received private lessons all week (a major deal for the price we paid!)
The first 2 days were challenging as this was the first time Seth has had his feet on two independently moving planks in over 8 years and I am still a bit of a beginner and this IS the ALPS after all. Throughout the week Seth's skill level on skis quickly caught up with mine and, he will argue, eventually surpassed it. The one-on-one instructional time was invaluable for me and I became much more comfortable and confident in my ability to maintain control on (what was for me) challenging terrain. Skiing was starting to become FUN. Not to mention that ever time I got on a chair lift I spent the next 5-10 minutes looking around at the Alps and the spectacular views which included a direct line of sight to Mount Blanc.
The there was the food. I had never had French food before but I had heard people speak of it with mist in their eyes and a slightly gaping mouth glistening with saliva. They weren't wrong. I had French onion soup for the first time (only there they just call it onion soup.) and then for a 2nd and 3rd time. We had steaks with Roquefort cheese and breakfasts of chocolate croissant, rich coffee and yogurt with dried fruit and granola, soft boiled eggs and crusty French bread. I needed to become a much better skier so that this sport could actually become aerobic or else I was in for some marked weight gain.
We were fortunate to meet some fantastic people on this trip. Our instructors, John, Bonny & Graham, were fascinating people with incredible stories to tell. not only had they been teaching Telemark skiing for years but they had also lead multiple summits of mountains in the Himalayas. Graham is an Aussie who manages to earn his living teaching skiing around Europe and Australia all year long. We spent New Years Eve in Tignes with them all. It was a fun night but would have been more so if it wasn't for the Swiss Flu...
The journey began with a 5:00 am flight on Turkish Air to Istanbul, Turkey. From there we were to catch a connecting flight on to Geneva, Switzerland. Seth and I laughed our way through the flight to Istanbul. It was a pre-dawn flight where most people are only interested in slipping back into the dreams they were shaken out of hours earlier. The crew had other plans. Announcements were made at a volume that ensured the birds outside could hear them, the seat belt chime went on and off constantly and the cabin lights were either on full power or blackout mode with no time wasted on subtle transitions in illumination. When the plane landed in Turkey, instead of taxiing to our gate at a gentle coast our pilot hit the gas causing several of the impatient passengers who had already gotten up to reclaim their overhead baggage to go stumbling backward into one another.
Once in Geneva we made our way to the bus pick up to find our ride to Tignes. We walked up and down the line of buses asking if this was the bus to Tignes and were answered with confused shakes of the head and waves of the hand. A man behind us had over head one such exchange and informed us that what we thought was a town named TIG-ness was actually a very French village named TEENS. Oops. We found the bus, set out for a 4 hour ride up into the mountains on switch back roads with beautiful views.
Upon arrival we checked into our hotel (which turned out to be the original hotel in the town before it grew into the resort it is now) and received a call from the leader of the Telemark course. He took us to a rental shop in town, helped us get set up with our equipment and we followed him to a near by restaurant where the other participants were waiting. The other TWO participants. It turned out that only 3 people had signed up for Telemark lessons this week and I was the loan Alpine (downhill) skiing student. Of the 3 Telemarkers, Seth was the only true novice which meant that classes were divided up in such a way that he and I received private lessons all week (a major deal for the price we paid!)
The first 2 days were challenging as this was the first time Seth has had his feet on two independently moving planks in over 8 years and I am still a bit of a beginner and this IS the ALPS after all. Throughout the week Seth's skill level on skis quickly caught up with mine and, he will argue, eventually surpassed it. The one-on-one instructional time was invaluable for me and I became much more comfortable and confident in my ability to maintain control on (what was for me) challenging terrain. Skiing was starting to become FUN. Not to mention that ever time I got on a chair lift I spent the next 5-10 minutes looking around at the Alps and the spectacular views which included a direct line of sight to Mount Blanc.
The there was the food. I had never had French food before but I had heard people speak of it with mist in their eyes and a slightly gaping mouth glistening with saliva. They weren't wrong. I had French onion soup for the first time (only there they just call it onion soup.) and then for a 2nd and 3rd time. We had steaks with Roquefort cheese and breakfasts of chocolate croissant, rich coffee and yogurt with dried fruit and granola, soft boiled eggs and crusty French bread. I needed to become a much better skier so that this sport could actually become aerobic or else I was in for some marked weight gain.
We were fortunate to meet some fantastic people on this trip. Our instructors, John, Bonny & Graham, were fascinating people with incredible stories to tell. not only had they been teaching Telemark skiing for years but they had also lead multiple summits of mountains in the Himalayas. Graham is an Aussie who manages to earn his living teaching skiing around Europe and Australia all year long. We spent New Years Eve in Tignes with them all. It was a fun night but would have been more so if it wasn't for the Swiss Flu...
Sunday, January 11, 2009
My Turn to Say It...
In the 10 or 11 years I've been doing winter mountain sports I've heard the phrase several times. I usually disagree with those who have said it, arguing that it's the person not the sport. I've probably had the phrase uttered at me a few times in the past, but I have NEVER actually touched anyone else while riding my snowboard. (I may have buzzed by some skiers maybe a little too fast where they fell on their own, but I guarantee you I never touched 'em.)
But on January 2nd -- my last day in Tignes, France and my first day telemarking by myself -- I yelled those words so many other skiers have yelled in the past....
"F@(*ing SNOWBOARDERS!!!"
That's right... the sport I've loved so much for the last 10 years I cursed in a long sequence of 
profanity.
Why?
Meg & I were skiing together on Friday but she left just before lunch to go do some school work. So I continued skiing, grabbed a bite to eat and was just finishing another run in the same area, figuring it was probably going to have to be my last before I head in for the day. (A 1-2 hr ski/ride to the right part of the resort.)
I was still working on a lot of fundamental technique for telemark turns so I had pulled over to the side of the slope to collect myself, think about a few things and get ready for the upcoming section. All of a sudden I heard the sound of large volumes of snow being scraped off the mountain just moments before this French snowboarder clobbered me from behind at full speed. I swore for a very long time as it became quite apparent that my face was bleeding profusely and my noggin' hurt like crazy.
He didn't understand a word of English, but I'm pretty sure he understood I was pissed. He and his other snowboarding buddy stuck around long enough to make sure I was conscious, and informed me I should get my lip looked at my ski patrol before leaving me.
So there I am, on the slopes bleeding profusely, checking my mouth to make sure all my teeth are still connected to my gums. (They were.) You know how facial wounds go, there is blood, EVERYWHERE. All over the white slopes. Looks like a total disaster. After a while, I figured out that the only piece that was damaged was my upper lip which appeared to have caught the edge of the snowboard and had flapped open.
I skied down to the base of the lift (about 2-3 minutes away) and found some ski patrol there who put a bandaid on it and said I probably needed a stitch. If I wanted to get a ride on the snowmobile to the medical clinic it would cost 400 Euros from where I was. (I didn't buy the insurance w/ my lift ticket.) I decided I'd ski to a different town (another 5 minutes down the slope) and take the bus to the medical center.
Less than 20 minutes later, I was with a doctor in the medical center. (Might have been in the check-in area for 5 minutes! Really fast!) The doctor said he thought I probably needed 2 stitches, but wound up putting in 3. He gave me an antiseptic mouth wash to clean out my mouth 5 times / day and sent me on my way home with blood and iodine all over my face. I got some interesting looks on that walk.
Mind you, during this whole process, Meg has no idea what's going on, because her phone didn't work in Tignes. Imagine her surprise when I walked into the hotel room with a face that looks like it's been through a warzone.
A week later though, and it's been very clear this doctor did a great job. Nothing ever really hurt, and two of the stitches have come out already. The third is buried so deep it will just have to dissolve on its own. Right now, you'd hardly know anything ever happened to me unless you find the exact right spot. All the costs should be covered by my insurance too.
In the end, my face is fine, but I'm sure to have mixed feelings the next time I get back on my snowboard. (Bound to happen at least for a few weeks, as the snow is apparently good in Gudauri, but it'll be a few weeks before I have the last pieces of gear to telemark here in Georgia.)
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