Monday, January 19, 2009

The Life of James

All is well in the cold north. Although for a while there it wasn't all that cold as we had several days of +degree-weather. While that's fine at the time; surfing around in slush is actually really fun on a snowboard but when it cools down again and without any fresh snow, you are left with acres of ice-rink that isn't much fun for anyone. Ouch.

Work is good. Life is good... of course I wouldn't be James without my share of misfortune: but thus far it has been kept to minor hand injuries, pulled back muscles, rapidly-passing fevers and awkward infections. I still manage to soldier on.

Partying is becoming less often but nonetheless still alive and kicking. What better way to spend your pre-drinks than getting drunk and seeing how many people you can fit into a two-person sauna? According to the above picture the answer seems to be eight. Not a bad effort I must say. I bet you're all loving the ratio as well. Classy.

What would a trip to Sweden be without some seriously biker-esque rock and roll? I seemed to have yet another reason to stand out not knowing who Mustache was at the start of the night but after surviving the chaos of the mosh-pit and the epic power of their beards I was soon one with the crowd.

Friday night we had a 75-year party: Swedes love to add up everyone having a birthday and 3 people celebrating their 25th.... well you can fill in the rest. I found myself playing host to an Australian kid (18) who had lessons with the ski school and got dragged out for some partying. Encouraging people to speak a bit of English was actually hard to do but it was good hear a thick Aussie accent from the Northern Beaches. Comforting in a way. Apparently the police were called out to the house but clearly I didn't notice as it was something I heard about the next day. Two of the supervisors from work showed up to give their best; always nice to cheers with the bosses.

Tuesday night is the first staff party; pulkas (bum sleds) food and drinks... Sounds like heaven as long as you're not antibiotic-ing it up? Ah to be James.

Sunday, January 04, 2009

Flapping Mice

Swedish is an interesting language. The intonation remains the bane of my integration but I am making progress. I do have time however, to notice a few of the idiosyncrasies of the language along the way. The word for bat for example; fladdermus - which when translated directly means 'flapping mouse'.

Tissue? näsduk - translates as 'nose towel'. Jealous? svartsjuk - 'black sick'. Charming stuff huh? Maybe I'll get over these strange little bits and pieces one day, but for the time being I am kept amused in my own little way.

Last weekend a few of us planned to cram ourselves into a car and head to Östersund, the nearest 'town' to speak of. I parked myself behind the wheel as the car's owner: Olle, was far too hungover to drive. There was a lot of bad 90's music, searching for pizza places and most importantly- stocking up on cheap groceries and guitar strings. Thanks to a combination of a huge old Volvo with bald tyres full of stinking Swedes and an Australian driver unused to driving on ice- the first set of lights we came across in town was met with an interesting response. As I went to put on the break the car seemed to speed up as the wheels locked and started sliding. Everyone's jaw dropped and there was an eerie silence as the car continued all the way through the intersection... uphill. Luckily the cars coming the other way could see the tank coming a mile away and just sat back to enjoy the show. I was significantly earlier in my breaking after that point...

As the weeks roll on I am starting to shake off my impostor syndrome and feel more and more at home amongst the madness. After the positive reaction to a test run based on my commonwealth status, I have landed myself a pretty sweet gig organising the ski groups for a British tour operator. This means that for one class a week I will be charged with breaking up a group of students according to their abilities and essentially having my pick of which bunch I want to take for the week.

For the rest of the day I am still in the trenches with the rest of them; taking care of a variety of skiers from highly abled Swedish young adults to tantrum throwing 5 year olds. All adding to the rich texture of life as a ski instructor.I have had the weekend off and despite my plethora of aches, pains, wounds and injuries I managed to make the most of the dumps we've had over the past few days. While it looks like I'm crying here; when you have 10m/sec wind blowing in your eyes and it's -20 out... watery eyes are the least of your problems. I feel like a wintery Laurence of Arabia.

Teaching beginner-intermediates more or less limits your range of location so today was a bit of exploration for me; searching around for places to ride. I managed to find a sort of valley which was sheltered from the wind and a place where wind-blown snow collects to leave a paradise of powder snow with pleasant weather hidden away from the windy mists amidst the snow machines above. Sure the visibility was horrific. Flying down a mountain in a place you've never been when you struggle to see 10 metres in front of you is great fun. Trust me. No really.

I am still managing to keep partying in the back seat. Work is important and I want to make sure that I am comfortable in my new surroundings with a strong grasp on the task at hand... Having said that however, New Year's Day was possibly the most painful experience of my life. I think I was still drunk as I jogged along the street trying to catch the bus I missed 5 minutes earlier while skulling down my budget German multi-vitamin juice. As for what happened the night before? Do not ask me. Well I can tell you that a few of the girls put together an amazing spread which came close to rivaling the feast we indulged in a week earlier and then the party began. I hunkered down into my portion of fläskfile and potatoes and the rest is history...