Snow, Ski's and Shingles - Part 2 ...

I awoke the next morning with no pain whatsoever apart from a mild back ache. In light of what I had put my entire body through the day before I figured I had done quite well. My legs moved, my hips were positively loose after the stretches and angles they had been asked to perform the previous day. 

If anything I put the stiff back down to the firm bed which was similar to some of those I have slept on in India. I did my usual yoga, the back ache eased, the knees and hips were flexed and I was ready to hit the slopes yet again.

Snow had fallen during the night covering the entire valley with a rich layer of crisp white frosting.

Standing on our beautiful little balcony we were able to gaze down the valley at a scenic winter wonderland so often referred to in books.

Snow covered the roofs, snow covered the streets and yet the snow machines were still pumping out man made snow with a vengeance.

Just before we had arrived in Slovakia the family, en-mass, had headed down to the Mountain Warehouse clothing store in Aberystwyth to investe in the most wonderful array of winter snow clothing. Pre Christmas the shop had been selling their snow jackets for £79.99, ski trousers for £69.99, gloves for £19.99, hats and socks for £9.99 a piece. Our last minute decision to go skiing after the January Sales had begun, turned out to be the making of the holiday.

“Special Offer”, read the sign, “Buy all 5 for £80!!” Jackets, Ski trousers, hats, gloves and socks were piled into the centre of the room, thermal underwear joined the pile as did the half price snow boots and hand warmers. £400 lighter (for all four of us) we were ready for the slopes!

As I am sure I have mentioned before, I do NOT DO COLD!!! During my first day on the slopes despite all my wonderful new thermal equipment, I had froze. I had stamped my feet, shaken my hands, slapped my sides and jumped up and down in a bid to keep warm while the boys had been taking off their jackets to reveal sweat coated T-shirts.

As I gazed at the new crisp snow, I was not fooled by its beauty. Frost hung in the air as I breathed, minus temperatures were registered on the balcony thermometer. For warned they say is for armed, and having experienced the bitter cold of the day before, I was determined not to suffer!!!

TWO pairs of thermal socks were put on that morning, along with my Mountain Warehouse full body thermal underwear, an extra T-shirt AND a thick polo neck jumper. Peters Buff was placed on my head, my thermal hat was pulled over the top before the Buff was pulled back over to make a three layer covering over my head and a second scarf was wrapped around my neck. All this was then encased inside my padded Ski trousers and Jacket (with the hood pulled up) and finished with my thermal snow gloves.

I was not cold but then again I was not warm! We skied the slopes going over what we had learnt the day before but it was with grateful relief that I returned to our rooms that evening and stood in a boiling hot shower for over an hour!!!!

As I dried myself Peter noticed a rash across my back. It didn't hurt and looked a bit like a nettle rash. We put it down to the fact I had got snow into my waist band during one of my many falls. This had probably dampened the fabric and rubbed me as I had skied. We said no more about it and headed back down the hill-side for a well deserved game of Ten Pin Bowling and lots of Pizza!!

We had discovered that if you ordered over 30 Euros of Pizza you got Free Bowling, at 5 Euros a Pizza this called for 7 pizzas … there were 5 of us and we were hungry!! Needless to say we got our free bowling!!

The heating in the club was on serious over-drive, drinks were ordered, my boots plus one pair of socks were removed and for the first time that day I was WARM!!!

We played pool for an hour, slammed our knuckles in air-hockey, blistered fingers and strained knees in the bowling alley and had an amazing time!

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Sun shine returned to the slopes the next morning and our walk to the Ski Shop was picturesque.

Snow shone in the morning rays,

Icicles clung and dripped off rooftop edges,

Beautifully designed houses glistened in the still air.

Down in the valley the château looked magical as for our final day we hit the slopes.

The day before, as we had returned our boots and ski things to the shop, Kris had been offered a board of his own for the same price as one weeks hire. As he planned to return to Slovakia in February for a month this seemed like a great deal and he was eager to try out this new board. Romana had her own skis and while Peter and I happily handed our equipment over to the drying room, Cian had asked to take his home for the night (*??*)

In the the past two days both Kris and Cian has mastered the basics of their boards and were ready for a bigger challenge.

That morning as the sun beat down and already armed with their boards, they had headed for the HUGE cliff like mountain beside our apartment.

Peter and I lounged around on the balcony for an hour enjoying the warmth seeping over the hillside before joining them on our usual slope.

We had now spent two days on our smaller slope, Kris venturing once or twice onto the big one. We gazed up at the thick snow. We looked on as children as young as four hurtled their way down the enormous slope parents following oblivious of any danger.

If they could do it, we decided, so could we!!!!

The top of the big mountain was reached not by a pole clasped between the thighs but by a chair lift that gracefully lifted us high above the trees and snow. 

The views were amazing, the air crisp and clear ….. until we got hit by the billowing snow being thrown forcefully into the sky by the enormous Snow maker!!! We emerged from the cloud covered in a thin layer of snow that we quickly shook off just in time for our gracefully tumble off the lift and onto the utmost top of the GIANT HILL!!!

From our new view point the valley looked very very far away. Houses were pin pricks in the distance, trees mere sticks in the snow. The hill also looked incredibly steep!! Snow billowed out of the machine at the first ridge obscuring the actual slope. Little children had done this we told ourselves, little children, without sticks, without fear, without falling ….. the boys strapped their boards to their feet and one by one we began.

In those first few moments I was vaguely aware of other people as they passed by, I was vaguely aware of Kris and Cian behind me. As I passed the snow machine I became totally aware to the drop off in front of me, I was also totally aware of the speed I was gaining the further down the hill I went.

By the time I passed the half way marker I was positively hurtling down, totally out of control yet somehow still gracefully upright, no longer being overtaken, no longer looking like a beginner.

I streaked past Peter filming at the bottom of the hill, unable to look, unable to stop, definitely unable to wave!!

I raced level with the other speed skiers as they headed towards the gates of the ski lift, marvelling at the way, one by one they spun to a stop. Gradually the ground rose up before me slowing my momentum, slowly I eased to a nonchalant stop, time standing still as my heart calmed its irregular thumping.

Kris slide to a stop beside me. I was upright, I was alive, I was smiling. We beamed at each other and headed through the gate to do it again!!

By now the slope was getting busy, the sun had brought people out in droves. School parties skied in relays down the hillside and despite our growing confidence that we could actually miss the other people on the slope, it was getting uncomfortably close!!

On our fourth trip up the mountain Kris noticed that on the right hand side of the Big Hill was another slope, one bereft of people. As he strapped his boots to his snow board a wicked grin spread across his face.

“You want to try it?” he queried. It should be noted at this point that under the influence of my son 90% of my better judgement goes out the window. I have drunk blue plastic buckets of rum and coke on Cambodian beaches until 4am, I have raced motor scooters across main roads full of trucks wearing shorts and flip flops in Vietnam, I have driven cars at speed through the forestry while my children stuck their heads out of the sun roof in Wales and a lot worse, all because Kris was there to do it with me!!

We eased ourselves over to the new ridge. Half way down another snow machine obscured the view with its thick cloud of snow. We slid a little closer, wondering what lay beyond. There was only one way to find out ….... Kris went first!!

If anything this slope was actually easier that the first. Although narrow in the middle, the sides rose up to quite a height allowing you to ski upwards and therefore slow down. The snow was also soft and loose allowing the skis to dig in a little, again slowing my decent.

As we slid down the final rise, the hill opened up into the most amazing straight lined smooth decent imaginable. We glided down the last 100m, slowing perfectly at the gates of the Ski-lift.

We had found our new play ground and there we remained for the rest of the day!!!

With Kris getting cleverer by the hour!!

That evening we packed our bags. 

If the truth be told three days was enough for me in minus temperatures, three days of sliding, falling, dragging, lifting, laughing and smiling. It had been amazing, it had been fun but I was ready to go home.

We caught the bus and then trains back to Bravakslavia.....

.... drinking champagne as we went.

Kris was staying for another week to allow him more time with Romana and as we climbed aboard the bus to the airport Kris and Romana said their goodbyes to us.

In the airport we met some amazing guys from the Christmas Decorators Company who were playing a fantastic game of 'Suitcase bowls' until the security officer stopped them. They tried to reason, they even tried to make him join in, but the guard was adamant, they would have to leave the airport if they continued to play. One of the boys lamented to the guards departing back “If you cant play suitcase bowls in an airport, where can you play it???” but it was no use, the game was over ….... so they played 'Shove a penny' on the restaurant table instead!!

(this actually spread to about 5 other tables as random strangers briefly watched and then pulled coins out of their pockets, so the guard gave up!!)

The flight was short and subdued. The drive back to Wales long and winding. Peters mother had died that morning while in hospital for some tests. While we had been travelling it had seemed far away. Now we were home it became reality.

Over the next week Peter was busy with the arrangements for the funeral. The rash on my back didn't seem to be healing so I called the Doctor describing the nettle style lumps over the phone. “It sounds like an allergy” he concluded, “try antihistamines and call me Monday if it hasn't gone.”

I worked the weekend, the rash a minor inconvenience but it didn't go so on Monday morning I called the Doctor for an appointment. Tuesday morning I showed the line of red lumps that were beginning to scab to the Doctor. “You have Shingles!” he proclaimed, “How do you feel??”

I felt fine, no pain, no aches, no fever, just a rash. We worked out the date the rash had appeared, he asked me how I had felt at the time. “I was skiing” I replied, “I felt cold!!”

He shook his head, scratched his chin, “Well,” he concluded, “You are the healthiest Shingle sufferer I have ever met, you may as well go home and carry on, the rash should clear in a few more days, call me if you start to feel unwell.”

It was another week before the rash completely went, I had one day of backache similar to the ones I had had in Slovakia. I did yoga, I did Tai Chi. I ate salad and healthy soups, I lost the weight I had gained from a diet of pizza and amazing dumplings and I booked a 10 day trip to Morocco for my Birthday in March!!!

Life is good!!! But I need a suntan!! xxx

Snow Ski's and Shingles : Part 1

Skiing, in the opinion of a pure amateur, is basically skidding down a hill and remaining upright! A bit like surfing a wave but on a harder surface!

As one improves, one is able to look graceful, skilled even and those who dedicate themselves to hours of practice ….. look amazing.

Like most of the residents of Porthcawl I dabbled in the art of surfing as I grew up. I sat out with the other neoprene wrapped bodies, calling to the God of the Waves through the thick coastal mist that regularly settled over us. 

As the children got older I allowed them to use my Surf Ski and I even invested in a second ski so we could paddle the waves together. But I was never a dedicated master. I clung to my board 'hoping' to stay on as I hurtled down the face of the wave rather than 'knowing' I was in control. I stood proud when I made it and laughed each time I was thrown into the sea.

I did a lot of laughing in those days!!!

My career in Skiing was basically the same!

Under the watchful eye of Romana I was fitted for my boots and Ski's, while the boys sorted out their Snow-boards. I stood up, feeling like solid seven stone weights had been attached to my feet, and shuffled to the door, skis and sticks held out for balance!

No snow had fallen during the night, much to the boys dismay, so my first walk from the Ski Shop to the slopes 200m away was at least on solid non slippery ground. 

I had just begun to master the rocking fixed ankle walk as we emerged from the covered bridge onto the ski slope ridge and decided to worry about aching muscles later.

I had planned to have an easy morning watching the boys as they enjoyed their three hour snow board lesson but Romana had other ideas. Sticks were placed in my hands, my feet were placed into the classic position of the snow plough and down the slope I began to slide with Romana skiing slightly in front of me to break my fall should I need her!!!

The little slope at Donovaly starts off with a sweet gradual incline that virtually levels off before dropping away again to what looks like a 45 degree angle straight down. At the bottom of this steep hill the sides close in to form a narrow gap before the whole thing opens up again to reveal a wide gentle slope to the bottom of the valley.

Three times I hit the deck before I had moved three feet. Each time I thanked my yoga practices for allowing my legs to actually make it into the angles they had achieved with out breaking. Each time Romana got me up, talked me through what I had done to end up with the amazing resulting angles that I now found myself in and helped me to start again.

By the time I had managed to slid down the sweet gradual incline I was feeling more confident. I had not been on my backside for over 15 minutes, I was in control!!!

As I eased myself over the ridge I saw for the first time the steepness on the drop but by then it was too late. Although I now knew how to go in a straight line, I had not thought to ask how to stop. Until now I had just ploughed into Romana to stop and together we had sideways climbed back up the hill!

With my legs fixed in their position, the skis forming a perfect right angle in front of me I began to gather speed. To say I was graceful is untrue, yet to say I was ungraceful is also untrue. In my fixed position I hurtled down the mountain side, grateful for the fact that everyone else seemed to get out of the way at just the right moment. I 'aimed' for the gap at the bottom, amazing myself at my surprising ability as I shot through it and onto the softer snow below. 

Still upright I began to slow, still upright I began to relax my, until now, ridged muscles and turn to the side fence. I was still upright when Romana arrived beside me, then I stopped!

If the truth be told I stopped for a bare millisecond before my feet began to move backwards. Now one must remember that at this point I knew only how to stand in the classic plough position, a position that until this point had served me brilliantly. A position that has not only got me down the steep mountain side but had also allowed me to do so in style (of a sort). It was a position I knew and trusted so well that it never occurred to me to move my feet until it was well and truly too late.

Slowly but steadily, as I moved backwards, my legs began splay out into a widening split. My ski's, still at their ninety degree angle, pulled each foot apart, the attached leg going with them. For the briefest of seconds I remained upright … for the briefest of seconds I wondered what to do and then I hit the deck ...face first, as my hands were still grasping my sticks!!

With my ski so far out, my hips rotated deeply into the floor, my belly flat on the snow I was totally helpless so I began to laugh. 

Just like in the days of my surfing youth I had survived, not with the skill of the dedicated but by the God of the Slopes will and an awful lot of luck!!

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If my initial decent of the baby hill side could be loosely described as 'graceful' under the rules of poetic licence and mild exaggeration, to say my initial accent of said hill was 'not the best' would stand at the opposite end of the scale where under-exaggeration would stand shoulder to shoulder with blatant lie!

While the boys continued their lesson, Romana ushered me through the gate of the Ski-lift explaining in Slovakian to the guy in charge that I would need help. He spoke good English, he even explained himself quite well but somewhere in the wording I has misunderstood a vital part of the process.

DO NOT SIT DOWN!!

Having missed the swinging arm three times, I was instructed to stand aside to let the growing queue of people pass. I resumed my place upon my patient instructors instruction and promptly missed the pole yet again, (although I think I more let go of it that time!!)

As yet another pole with its coloured circular disc came around the corner, the patient instructor caught it for me and in a quite undignified manner shoved it between my legs while forcing my hands around the cold steel upright. I was jerked forward with such velocity that I nearly fell forward but in the last instant I managed to lean back . This in turn made my feet shoot forward, feet with seven stone weights attached, feet that had no traction, no control…. so I sat down!!

Embarrassment, frustration, helplessness all engulfed me as I was dragged along the floor, legs buckled beneath me, knees not strong enough to lift me. I considered letting go but the coloured disc that had been placed between my thighs was now wedged between my buttocks and my boots and wasn't going anywhere.

Slowly up the hill I slid with my Slovakian Ski-lift Instructor shouting untranslatable words into the clear crisp air. I cleared the first small ridge fighting with every adrenaline charged cell to straighten my legs, to lift myself from the bum dragging sitting position to the elegant upright one embraced by everyone else on the lift both in front and behind me.

I do not know where the strength came from, I do not know if it was even strength that got me up or some strange combination of mathematical angles and velocity but as I cleared the second ridge I found myself upright, clinging desperately to the metal pole, legs locked at the knees, ankles and hips, relieved yet too afraid to look anywhere except at the ground immediately in front of me as I watched for every bump, rise and fall, adjusting my weight as much as my rigid muscles would allow.

As I neared the top it dawned on me, once more, that no forward planning had been made and I had no idea how to get off this moving pole-wielding contraption!! Forward planning, I vowed, was something that was going to need some careful attention from now on!!

As I had entered the lift, Romana had taken my sticks to simplify my accent (!!*??*!!) My abilities to stop were still in question, my ability to get off a moving ski lift were totally unknown!! I smiled and got ready to laugh!!

In the final seconds as I neared the top of the hill I assessed my options.

I could not let go and see what happened, but a quick glance across to the downward side of the lift ruled that out, Rocks and snow boulders were strewn along the way.

I could scream for help and trust there was a five year old who could speak English at the top to save me!

I could try to remove myself from the lift by letting go and skiing over the side ridge. This could result in either me falling over in a tangle of legs and arms or possibly continuing my movement until I skied over the side of the mountain.

Somehow I needed a plan to stop!!

Never have I been so grateful to see a patch of potentially non slippery grass on a snow covered mountain side! As I drew level with it I removed the coloured disc from between my legs, gripping it tightly in both hands. Carefully I angled myself over the left hand steep ice ridge that had formed on either side of the lift path, letting go of the pole as its momentum shoved me over and onto the grass.

I must admit I hadn't put much thought into how non slippery the grass would be. I did however give it quite a bit of thought as I stopped! I stopped so suddenly that I nearly fell flat on my face again as everything from the hips down stopped and the rest of me continued onwards. Much arm flapping in a most undignified way followed as I fought to remain upright.

Slowly I stood erect, slowly I looked around, no one was watching, no one was judging, I had made it to the top and I was still emotionally as well as physically alive!!

Cyprus to Slovakia - Part 3 Arrival

Armed with our cameras loaded with photographs, two small stones from the top of the mountain and a memory full of breathtaking views,

we returned from Mount Olympus with our little Blue Dot bravely leading the way as darkness descended on the Island.

We spent the next day diving off the coast near Aya Napa,

driven there, this time with a hotel guest at the steering wheel of the truck and trailer now that Kris's licence had expired!

Our fins were put on at the bottom of the cliff,

as Kris explained the logistics of our point of entry!!

Blow holes had been formed from the relentless pounding of the sea, blow holes JUST big enough for a person in scuba gear to get through!!

Carefully we dropped down into the water through the holes as water surged around us

In the underground caves below we got our bearings before exiting into the open sea to begin our dive..

The dive was wonderful, the water clear the fish divine and responsive but my exit was a wee bit more clumsy that my entry 

(In actual truth I was bodily hauled out of the hole by Kris and Peter but we won't mention that bit!!)

It was yet another day, this time spent windsurfing and kayaking around the hotel, before we ventured out with the car once more.

During the past two days maps had been studied while we lounged on the beaches, the tourist brochures had been perused, distances verses time available had been analysed and a plan had been made.

As the sun peeped over the horizon the next morning and Kris crawled down the stairs to his waiting lift to work, Peter, a very sleepy Cian and I loaded our drinks and biscuits into our fuel filled car and set off.

Cian was asleep within minutes and missed the glorious sun rise as we drove away from the coast towards the North. He also missed the tiny villages we passed through, each one alive with people scurrying here and there before the sun became too hot.

He did wake up at the border as, with passport and car hire papers in hand, I negotiated our crossing from the southern Greek side into the northern Turkish side of Cyprus. In the distance a huge Turkish flag had been carved out of the mountainside, its white stones gleaming in the heat. Our passports were stamped, additional road insurance was paid for, another selection of road maps was passed over the counter and we were off!

Our little Blue Dot led us to the north coast but failed to find the marina we were looking for, it did find us the ferry port so it was forgiven!

Our little Blue Dot then led us along the tranquil northern coast line revealing the tiniest of coves lapped gently by the blue Mediterranean seas. Further along the coast long stretches of sand could be seen over grass covered dunes. We stopped to stretch our legs and bath our toes in the cooling water before warming them again on the warm sands.

Down the beach, where the sand gave way to the rocky point, incredible rock formations hid underground caves. As the sea surged below, water spouts would erupt through blow holes with glugs and whallops, shooting water a foot into the air before it fell back down to form tiny pools that resembled crater formations.

Walking around the point we discovered even more fascinating rocks totally different from the first!!

Bleached white and so smooth to the touch, long flat fingers of rock stretched out along the shore.

Narrow inlets of water stood evaporating in the sun leaving behind crystallised salt in thin lines.

At the point itself the ground rose up ending with huge boulders that were balanced upon each other.

Clear water lay in large pools, shallow and warm in the mid day sun.

Sandstone waves stood motionless in the breeze.

We clambered over the rough scree of the point … I climbed to the top of the boulders, very pleased with myself as I manoeuvred around and over the overhang. The view was breathtaking but I had climbed without my camera!!

We returned over the white flats to the spouting water holes,

where I sat for a good half an hour desperately trying yet failing to photograph the actual water popping out!

Our little Blue Dot then led us to the furthest point in Cyprus, down roads and tracks we would never have found without help. The sun was beginning to set as we pulled to the side of the road.

Below us lay a beach to rival any of those I have lived on in India. A scattering of beach huts and two small restaurants nestled in the dunes. If we had not been due to pick Kris up from work that evening we would have spent the night so peaceful was the scene.

We stayed until the sun disappeared over the horizon,

we gazed out over the smooth Mediterranean sea.

This was a place to come back to, this was a place to stay. A mental note was stored away in my brain as we climbed back into the car and let the little Blue Dot lead us home.

Where we found tiny snake the next morning by the pool!!!!

Which actually looks impressive in the photo until I put some scale into it lol!!!

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Kris returned to the UK three days after us and booked his theory test for the following Wednesday. He passed.

He then found a car test date for the Wednesday after. And passed!

On the Thursday he and Peter went to the auction and bought a car and on the Monday he began working for Karl as a delivery guy!!

Maybe this visit wasn't going to be so bad after all!!

Over Christmas Romana arrived from Slovakia!

Kris and Romana had met that summer in the Aldiana in Cyprus where they both worked. A work romance had begun and although Romana had left to return to University by the time we had arrived there for our break, the thought of not seeing each other until the following summer was too much for them to bear.

Her studies gave her a three week window over the festive season and as he was mobile and working Kris invited her to stay.

The Snow board holiday was still floating about in the ether but no plans had actually been made and with the arrival of Christmas our Taxi's were so busy it didn't even enter our conversations. Kris was out every day delivering his parcels, Romana studied in the mornings and helped Kris in the afternoons. Before we knew it, it was time for her to leave.

“You must come and visit me” she remarked a few days before her departure. “We have snow up in the mountains and my family has a chalet there.” Kristofer's eyes lit up, as did Cians. Snow … Skiing … Snowboards!!

The internet was trawled for flights, e-mails were sent to family and returned with bookings confirmed.

We were on our way to Slovakia at the end of the week!!!!!

The flight to Bratislava was short, a mere two hours, unfortunately it was a mere two hours at 6am!!We had already been awake for seven hours by the time Romana met us at the cold windswept airport and directed us to the just as cold concertina joined bus. This took us to the train station where for the 'huge' price of 40 Euros, we bought five tickets for the three hour journey that would take us half way across the country and into the snow covered hills.

The trains in Slovakia are so civilised!! To prevent excessive heat loss each carriage is divided into compartments off a corridor, just like the trains I remember in my youth.

We took over an entire compartment stuffing bags onto over head shelves and hanging our coats on the pegs by the doors!

Warmth filled the room from the overhead heaters and within moments Cian had discovered that each seat reclined to form a virtual bed!

I don't think he remembers the rest of the trip as, with his hoodie pulled over his eyes, he slept away the entire journey.

Despite Romana's assurances that we would soon reach the mountains, my first impression of Slovakia is its incredible flatness!! Mile after mile the train trundled comfortably through the countryside, past allotments complete with miniature allotment sized houses, smoke curling from their miniature chimneys as the family rested from their work.

We travelled through towns with decorative graffiti on the walls of large grey buildings,( in fact they graffitified most things that were not moving!!) we passed over level crossings while cars and trucks waited patiently for the barriers to rise. I was beginning to doubt the very existence of these snow covered mountains as hour after hour passed.

At last we began to climb, hills rose up either side of the tracks, trees replaced the towns and villages full of houses. The occasional house that we now saw tended to be wooden with a steeply sloping roof, elaborate attic windows and balconies.

From the train we caught a bus (having stopped briefly at the supermarket for supplies) that wound its way higher and higher into the mountains. By now even I was dozing as the coach rocked its way around the bends.

It was dark by the time we arrived in Donovaly, no snow lay on the floor but we were too tired to worry. A 500m climb up the hillside still awaited us, a climb that would be rewarded with beds, heating and hot hot showers!!

We were a tired but happy crowd when we reached the chalet.

Tomorrow we would see the snow, tomorrow we would hit the slopes, tomorrow we would hurtle down mountain sides oblivious to the dangers we faced. But for now ….. we put down our bags, washed our faces and crawled into bed. It was 8pm and tomorrow seemed a long way away!!!