Tess Key - To ski or not to ski, that is the question

To ski or not to ski, that is the question

Here in Sweden the snow keeps falling down more, and more and more. There seems to be no end to it. Which makes me remember my first ski-trip in Italy almost 6 years ago to ”Madonna di campiglio” when living in Milano. Before that I had only been skeeing in the north of Sweden and Norway which always was a traumatic experience because of the f_cking cold.
Those of you who know me well, are aware of my hatred and suffering of cold weather. I could be walking in the dessert in +40 degrees whisteling happily, but God forbit that the temprature goes bellow -5 and I become an angry, stiff pengiun-like statue cursing my way through the streets.
So since the mother of the children that I was watching hated snow, mountains and cold weather just as much as me she refused to go skiing and I was forced to have the oh-so-awfull responsability of going with the rest of the family.
I was TERRIFIED. I had promissed myself after the last ski trip in Sweden to never ever do something that makes me freeze that much and where I have to go around dressed like a stupid Michelin-man in silly hats and too big mittens.
But since I had no choice I bit my lip, braced myself and thought:
- ” ohwell it’s just for a weekend, I can do this! But I didn’t move all the way to Italy to go fucking skiing when all I wanna do is lie on the beach”.
The fun thing is that I discovered that ”skiing” for italians DOESN’T mean at all the same thing as”skiing” in swedish.
I think somene should put that down in a cultural dictionary or something so that people don’t get confused. You see, when in Sweden you wake up at 8.00 to be on the tracks at 9.30 sharp, in Italy they only start having breakfast and coffee.
And when in Sweden at 12.00 you are on top of the highest mountain with the wind making your ears flap and your tongue freeze, in Italy you are having your second wurstel with vin brûle.
And when in Sweden at 14.00 you are having the first brake of the day to eat a quick lunch you’ve had in your backpack the entire day, In Italy you sit and suntan with a beer in your hand.
I STARTED TO LOVE SKIING!
Ofcourse...my life changed completely the years after Milano, so I’ve never been skiing again after that weekend. But I still enjoy the fantastic fun of beeing in the mountains, see snow and be able to suntan in short shorts in summertime in Piemonte. 
Tess Key