In Russia
most businesses shut down from December 30-January 9th because of
the holidays. As a result, travel within the country can be difficult because
the planes do not fly domestically during this time. Because Clint and I were
returning on the 7th our only option was to take the overnight train
from Moscow to Penza. This wouldn’t have been a big deal except Clint felt
awful. He started feeling sick our last day in the states and the 18 hour plane
trip didn’t help his condition. But to our pleasant surprise mom and dad were
picking some things up in Moscow for the farms and had some room for us in
their car. It was a tight squeeze but we were very thankful for the ride. God
was taking care of us, He knew what Clint needed and provided. We are now back
to our home in Penza and recovered.
Clint has a residual cough but otherwise feels great.
(Disclaimer: this next little section was written by my wonderful husband who I love dearly. I apologize ahead of time if it sounds cynical or morbid to anyone. We were in-fact very excited to go skiing, we had a blast and there were not any major injuries!)
Haeli and I were talking recently and in
the course of the conversation we discovered that neither of us had suffered
from any serious injury or bodily harm in the recent past. Understandably we
were both alarmed at this unsettling realization. How could we have allowed our
lives to become so dull and uninteresting that neither one of us had gotten
seriously hurt in the past couple of months. This had to be fixed and quickly.
We discussed how best to go about risking our necks and our health in a country
with “non-existent” healthcare. It is not a subject to be entered into lightly.
One must consider all of the potential injuries that one can do to one’s self
and judge which one would best suit you and your current situation. You also must
give yourself a chance, however small, that you will not sustain any injury at
all. It’s only fair after all. Besides, this seemingly small detail is what separates
the masochist from the daredevil.
After much deliberation and thought on the
matter we came to the conclusion that the sport of skiing would be a perfect
fit for us. It had the potential for broken bones and serious head trauma while
at the same time offering the enticing thrill of rocketing uncontrollably down
a mountain. We agreed to set out on this adventure as soon as possible. We
contacted a friend of ours, Michele, who also had not hurt herself in a while
and suggested that she join us in our foolish folly. She readily agreed and we
set the date for our excursion for the following Saturday.
Haeli and I eagerly waited for the day to
arrive. We talked of all the ways that we could be hurt and of what we would do
if the other should be lucky enough to be seriously injured. I was the most
excited at our prospects due to the fact that I had never skied in my life and
was in all probability the most likely to end up in a crumpled heap at the base
of a tree. Still, Haeli held out hope for herself. She had not been skiing in
years and insisted that she was “not very good” and was therefore just as
likely to end up smashed and battered beyond recognition.
The long awaited day finally arrived. We
jumped into our Niva and sped off to seek our doom. We arrived at the ski slope
several hours later thanks to Russian roads and the snow that had fallen on
them three weeks ago. Plowing snow is not something that is done very often.
The Russian logic is that one day it will warm up and the sun will do the
plowing for them. Therefore, why bother. But I digress. As I was saying we
arrived at the ski lodge several hours later. The lodge was a small rectangular
building on the side of a hill. Out in the front several men were starting a
fire in a shashleek pit. There were several snowmobiles parked out front and
next to them a small pony was tethered and grazing on hay. I parked my Niva and
we got out. The men firing up the shashleek pit directed us inside to procure
skis and lift tickets. As we were entering into the building it occurred to me
that the men had all of the necessary ingredients for shashleek except for the
meat. I glanced at the pony. No, couldn’t be.
This is the pony from the ski lodge.
We entered inside the building and found
the counter where we could obtain our gear. The man behind the counter greeted
us with all the cheerfulness a deranged lunatic could muster; which is a lot in
case you were wondering. He gave us some very ill-fitting equipment. My boots
were tight enough to instantly seal off my feet from any flow of blood and
instantly put them both into a peaceful slumber. Haeli could not get her foot
into her boot but she crammed it in as far as it would go and strapped it on
any way. Her foot did not touch the bottom of the boot but she said that it was
better this way. Being able to keep her
balance would only hurt her chances of potential injury. Michele was most
disappointed of all however because by some mad chance her equipment fit quite
nicely.
Our ski boots on, we gathered up our skis
and poles on clumped loudly to the door. The temperature in the room was somewhere
close to the event horizon of a super nova so we were in hurry to exit.
However, one does nothing quickly when encumbered by ski boots. We walked with
all the speed and grace of a 100 year old man with a bad case of gout. Our
wobbling and clattering caused a symphony of noise that nearly deafened us.
Now back to Haeli to finish the story because Clint had to get back to work. We got to the bottom of the ski hill. The hill looked quite manageable from the bottom looking up, the view from the top felt like a whole different story. Our first obstacle after making it to the base of the hill with all of our gear on was figuring out the ski lift. It wasn't what we had pictured in our minds. It was a round, flat piece of plastic about the size of a dinner plate on a pole attached to a rope. We stuck the disc between our legs, with our feet still on the ground, and it pulled us up the hill...eventually. It took us all a few tries because we would fall when the rope would jerk tight but we eventually got the hang of it, it worked quite slick.
This doesn't quite do the lift justice but its the only picture we have of it.
We are now to the top of the hill where the fear builds. Michele gave Clint a few pointers and we headed down. Clint and I both fell a couple times the first two times down the hill but then our confidence was building. We skied for three hours and had a blast. Clint came out of the adventure with a sore thumb and shoulder that he had injured by being "over-confident" he says. We had some tea at the lodge cafe and then headed home to rest after exhausting but very exciting adventure. Clint will write more in the near future I hope. His stories are much more elaborate and humorous!!!
Clint's first skiing adventure.
Us with our friend Michele, who was a daring pro skier, an inspiration to us all!
