Elephant Hunters

So we moved after three nights at Sands River to a place called Beho Beho which made our last place look unglamorous. Also dangerous. The new place has a discreet electric wire in front of the open room, and Masai guarding our rooms at night. It was not uncommon to hear them yelling at hyena and hippos…no weapons, just sticks and voices. There are Persian carpets on the stone floors by the bed and in the bathroom complete with a bathtub in open air, beneath the African sky.  

We are picked up at a meeting point by a man named Saningo: a Masai with 24 brothers and sisters. He lets us swim in the hot springs at the pick up location:  a very hot pool and a cool one, but all natural, and complete with waterfall. The kids are out of their minds. Also a hyena is watching us, which thrills them even more. Saningo has the kindest face I have ever seen –it is as if he has candles in his eyes..they have that much light. The kids and I are in love.

Charlie was the first one to articulate what is clearly a difference between the white and black Africans. The black ones are the most in touch with the children; they see them for what they are: lion pups with large paws that occasionally knock over things and step out of line. Best of all, the Africans do not mind if you sneeze without covering your nose, or leave your napkin out of your lap. They just gently them back to the topic or get them to sit down again in the jeep without frustration or annoyance. And man do they laugh at their antics. I have seen young Charlie reduce them to tears with his act, which as I have said, has gotten very good. He loves them fiercely back and will say so in a loud voice: I DON’T LIKE the WHITE ONES.

One white one, Werner, is an Afrikaner…the descendants of the Dutch who believe they are as African as any black man, and were the ones in charge during that whole apartheid kerfuflle. They are macho, alpha male types who think children should been beaten and not heard.

His look is straight out of central casting: huge muscles, dark glasses, beard, and best of all a belt made of a tidy row of huge bullets. Werner is one of only three who are trained to take guests on walking safari, with a rifle and plenty of those bullets. I admit I am sort of buying the act- firm handshake, tall tales of big game at lunch, ok we get it: you have a big gun, (this is a family blog so I won’t make the bush jokes here, but feel free). Charlie, however, is having none of it. He rolls his eyes at the stories and stage whispers to me that he thinks this guys is a blow hard. For his part, Werner can’t believe this little cub is taking him on.  F has a natural sense of hierarchy and keeps quiet (Charlie says Frederick is waiting quietly til he can crush these people with his evil German brain), but Charlie is like Screw it, why wait? He thinks his big puppy paws are big enough to do some damage, so he swats away-contradicting him at will, interrupting him to speak to me, sighing loudly at the scary stories.

We arrange for a walking safari and are assigned not one but two guides: Werner and Haribert a black man with a German name because his father was a doctor in Germany long ago. The instructions are clear: no noise. No antics. We must walk silently into the bush because we want to hear the animals and know where they are. Werner reads the boys the riot act. He has told me a story about the one and only time he had to shoot an elephant. He was so miserable, he claimed he would rather be trampled the next time.

The first thing we encounter is a group of elephants including a very young one. Obviously, if a young elephant wants to come over and check you out, it is bad. Often we are told the mother will look up, see where the kid is headed and freak the fuck out. You do not want to flirt with a baby elephant. So I am breathless and wide-eyed and we watch Werner speak to it, kindly, firmly. “That’s a god boy” he says “Go back to Mommy”. Good boy. Off you go. He is firm, and I must say masterful.

Whew.

I don’t remember the events that followed exactly, but very soon we come around a corner. And around a tree comes a bull. A big ol mother of a male bloody elephant bull.  He’s startled, we’re startled and we freeze.  Apparently I began to walk up the hilly bank of the river bed we are in, and Haribert stops me. The one and only rule in this is DO NOT RUN.  You must stand your ground.

So we stand, and the elephant comes towards us. It is not fast, but it is menacing and we are close. Werner raises his gun and says to the elephant in essence, to stand down. Elephant comes closer to me and my kiddies and god he is huge and they trample people..they are being poached and he is scared and shit shit shit. I don’t want to be there and isn’t this supposed to be a vacation. ?

Werner is now almost yelling…he is very clear; he means business and the elephant must turn back. And the bull starts to turn away from us, god sweet relief, and then terror again as he changes his mind and comes back.

Werner readies the gun and pleads with gut wrenching sincerity because there is no lying to an elephant-

 DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS!!

Sweet Jesus. It was intense; intimate really. I was no longer afraid for us, I was afraid for the bull...Please elephant, please don’t give us this burden. Please, please please live.

And we are frozen while the elephant decides. And he does; he turns away.

Haribert, takes us to safety while Werner waits until the bull is really gone before turning his back on him, and joins us.

Sweat is pouring off of me- Werner asks if anyone has gotten a thorn from the walk through the bush. (Thorns?) Frederick, precise Frederick says, yes he has a thorn in his sock. Sir, yes sir. One thorn reported.

We go to a safe place and look at hippos and the sweet relief from adrenaline makes us giddy. The guides are euphoric. They live for this: proximity with the animals, but also the fear, and the relief from fear. Both light up cigarettes and laugh and I sit very close to Werner just in case. I might have been in his lap don’t judge.

We have one more encounter-have to walk past mother and child again, but we skeedadle no pictures no confrontation. And then, we are greeted on a hill at sunset with gin and tonics and little meat balls and a jeep to take us home.

The drive home was the most magical thing : we drive in and around the elephants in the near dark and we stop and visit with them in silence. When we get to camp the trusty, tall dignified Masai are there in red cloaks and the children shake their hands and we high five and drink more gin until dinner where I am seated with Werner and Charlie (Werner did the seating so clearly CMB is growing on him) and Werner is laughing like he is the happiest man in the world.

I told Thomas, I believe if he had asked for all my money or a kidney or my first born, I would have given it. Either way we are somehow tied for life…Me, Werner, the Elephant.

Crocodile wrap up

A few more dets on the croc swim, before we move on to the elephant charge. As you probably know, crocodiles kill by drowning their prey in a move called the “death roll”, and only eat (a baby hippo, honeymooners, whatever) later. At Sands River camp, they are everywhere, both in and out of the water. (Sometimes they sun themselves with their mouths open-horrifying) The hippos are also plentiful and very very testy. They weigh as much as an SUV and have large powerful jaws that can crush any animal. Most of the time they sit with their little eyes and ears out of the water in a most adorable way.

When we went on our evening cruise, I was struck by what an undesirable combination this was: hippos plus croc plus small tin boat plus shallow river. I told Thomas the only thing missing was terrorists shooting from the shore. But the hippos stayed where they were, so it was ok.

But when the French team went in, there was one hippo in particular who came up to the boat. I am not sure what happened because there were two versions. One version was the hippo was mellow, the other said he was aggressive both said he was close, and accidentally (or perhaps not) tipped the boat from the side. It sank immediately. Guide of 20 years was so shocked he was almost incapacitated, having only recently learned to swim himself.

The new bride of the English man apparently freaked out completely, but her public school husband was very stiff upper lip upper crusty part boy scout about it. He grabbed the cooler that was in the boat with the idea it could be used as a flotation device. They swam with it in between them

I had asked many questions to the guides about swimming-with croc-etiquette only the day before (much to the guffaws of the family) and it was explained one’s best chance would be to swim very gently. A lot of splashing makes the crocodile think you are a wildebeast.

None was a good swimmer and the English man said he kept his camera around his neck in case when they reached shore, they could scare away the animals with the tiny light. So they are swimming with a cooler in between them and a camera around his neck and at this point the German swim team I am married to is getting restless. You can just see the bubble over their heads: How the F did these people win the war?

The new bride is cooing…I CLEARLY married the right man. Oh darling you were brilliant. He thought of the cooler! He thought of the camera!

Thomas and Frederick (and Charlie I am sure) were thinking: why didn’t they swim as quickly as possible to the god damn shore? With this strange barge of soft drinks they were hauling, they were in the water for way longer than necessary. And how well is the light working now? After the swim?

Oh that reminds me. The kids did an imitation of what I would have done in the water. So so funny. Whenever I got nervous on the boat I would pinch the children rather hard. Charlie calls it Ninja Ellie. It’s when I basically lose my shit and come after their necks -they think I have a teeny temper. They claim the first order of business when thrown in would be to slap both of them for getting us into this, and then when the croc came up, to slap him too.

Anyway back to the swim. The French took a longer time to get to shore due to the current, but all made it. Weirdly none of them was thinking about crocs. They were afraid of the water!

French man acted exactly like I would have afterward- (one must play the part) very dramatic and traumatized but in a noble way. At dinner he consumed nothing but red wine and coffee. His wife however, ate with gusto. OOOH Chocolate!!

 Apparently this couple-who have a great sense of humor by the way…(they loved my idea of them starting an agence do voyage for middle age intrepid travelers) have also had a plane crash landing and took a balloon ride where the guides could not find them so they languished into the night until the guides finally came honking up holding champagne, because I guess that is the way to rescue French people.

I asked them casually where they were going to next.

Stay out of Zanzibar, is all I’m saying.

Out of Africa

OK OK here I am from (very) very hot Dubai. Little known fact: Dubai is humid. That's right...like New York in August, but hot.  It actually makes you laugh...until you cry.
Anyway...much, much to share. Africa was as amazing as one imagines it to be. We were flown from Dar es Salaam to a tiny airstrip where two jeeps from our first camp were waiting. The drive from the airport to the camp was about 15 minutes and along the way we saw giraffe and bouncing impala-things that we have seen since we were children in books, and tell us we are in Africa: home to all mankind.
The first place was on a river with hippos and nile crocodile. Both are very dangerous to man, but live somehow in harmony with each other. The rooms have thatched roofs and side walls, but no front wall. So it is just you and the hippos, which can be loud. Also one hears the slinky, slithering sound of the croc who is truly a terrifying anumal.
Anyway first night we are taken on an evening cruise down the hippo filled river to a beach and the crocs slide off when we get there and the children fish (!) and Frederick gets a croc on the line, but all seems mellow...guide (heavenly man named Emmanuel) cuts the line..hahaha..hakuna matata.
Days start with coffee brought to room and then early morning game drive, then home, lunch, then rest, then afternoon drive into the sunset, then drinks, then bed, then all over again.
We get really lucky and see wild dogs and we sleep to the crazy sounds of Africa and we shower under the open air and I am Meryl Streep- afraid of nothing. It is simply the most romantic place I have ever seen. The kiddies sleep in the same bed and cling to each other a bit, but they are scared in a good way. It is luxury Africa and they know it...picnics in the bush cooked by many noble black men who laugh at them and love them..and all is good.
But then one fine morning we go on a long cruise to a place where we might see leopards from the little boats and on the way we keep getting harassed by 2 ton hippos..in lets not forget..crocodile infested f ing waters and I have two children aboard. I am not happy. The boat is very light weight and one gets stuck often on the sand bank and everyone laughs at my discomfort.
I come home and go to bed. I am that frazzled. Later we come to dinner and it is delayed. The managers come out and say there has been an incident and it is serious even though no one is hurt, but more gin all around.
Well cut to the chase...a newly arrived honeymoon couple and a 60 year old french couple arrived, took their evening welcome cruise and got tipped by a hippo and had to swim in the croc waters for 10 minutes.
This had apparently never happened in 20 years, even though I, Ellie Streep hippo whisperer, was concerned by the same thing only hours before. I cannot begin to tell you the color these people were when they came to dinner. British, but paler. Martian, but greener.
No surprise to bloggers who love me, that I conducted a thorough interview (in French no less) and have more details. But we must sleep now before another marathon trip to zurich via london. I promise more soon.
Also the next place was so unbelievable...unreal luxury..and we went on a walking safari with two armed leaders of man types..and no joke got charged by an elephant (they call them ellies here) . Almost had to witness the death of my favorite animal.
Persian carpets in the open air bathroom, gin and iced towels handed to you in the bush...it is a wonder we came back.
The boys have been such a source of joy to us. Charlie has taken his comedy to a new level and kills me...we were laughing so hard in the back of the jeep that the guide said the lions might notice and eat us. Today at the HUGE dubai mall from hell we gave them money and said see you in 45 minutes. When they returned Charlie said AUNTIE (he calls me that) look what we got...he got a blob of blue goo that one..I don't know..plays with. It is utterly useless and slightly unappetizing. F got a calculator that..wait for it. ..does NOT give you the answer..it says YOU TELL ME when you type in 1+1. Perfect. Charlie said DOESN"T THAT SAY EVERYTHING ABOUT OUR PERSONALITIES????!!
I could not argue. CMB...fun, whimsical, blue goo...F wanting to boss a calculator around.
xx

Hakuna Matata

Where to begin Where to begin....Charlie charlie charlie. In Muslim countries. ....but first....

We loved Washington, loved seeing the white house all the time (so close to the street!) so loved the sites, Lincoln's speeches written in stone. They always choke me up: always. I do however think he might have been one of those great geniuses who wrote the speech in the car (horse) on the way to Gettysburg. If you re read it, you might agree he could have used a little bit of editing: he says "here" too much ...it is slightly distracting.  Also there is a mangled sentence in the second inaugural. I know this is blasphemy to the people who worship him (as I do) but it's true. I got the feeling in that memorial that he is cringing ever so slightly at its imperfections.
But but but.. as if to remind us there was simply no one like him, he awes with the beauty and controlled vehemence of this: 

Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether." every drop  of blood drawn with the lash! shall be paid by another drawn with the sword! Come on! The little black man at my side at the memorial was patting my shoulder at this point. Kills me. I just think he started a bit late writing some speeches. that's all I'm sayin. Ok now to comedy. and statistics. 14 minutes. That is the amount of time it took young Charles McCune (as they called him in Dar es Salaam airport) to say the words AL QAEDA!! kind of loudly in Dubai. When we landed and took the walk to a bizarre in-airport hotel...which had no windows to the outside, and one does not even go through passport control to reach it...it is totally inside. ..but on the way there were plenty of women in full black veils, and men in skull caps (he thought that meant they were "hebrew" and said that also loudly..).and saudi types in their funny robes, was the only time the children stopped yacking to each other. Charlie was agape. He walked into walls. Then the next morning we fly to Tanzania..and the children are in coach and we are in business (emirates...most unbelievable business class luxury ever)...and Charlie comes up to me (see photo) to wake me in my air conditioned splendor to ask for more chocolates from up front for his "friends" people in the back he has asked to teach him to swear in Swahili. Then he shows me photo after photo of him holding one black  perfect beautiful muslim baby after another. One had a fully veiled mother..who said nothing. But the father in long white cloaks and skull cap (aka a hebrew) said to him..where are you from . AMERICA! well the man said, you are so kind, and you smile all the time, you will go very far in life. (!!!) way to go CHUMU!!! make one muslim friend at a time. All over the world, until they like us. and they will. Check out the photos...he does nothing but play with their children, spreading love and sunshine and chocolate. He is now so exhausted..we put them into bed at 8 after sampling a chocolate fountain at the buffet. Ridiculous. Tomorrow we will fly in small plane to the outback in time for an evening game drive. The frederick and charlie duo have gotten even funnier. Because before we used to laugh only at them..now they have a bit of game. Had us in stitches describing the typical american approach to safari, i.e. the BIG FIVE. all the New Yorkers demand to see the BIG FIVE (lion, zebra, hippo, giraffe..blah blah0 and it is like a competitive sport back on the upper east side. So the children took a riff on this and said they would chest butt and high five with each one. Trouble is they are so loud and chatty (discussing I am not kidding everything from chinese currency manipulation to whether or not Jesus married) that we will not see any f ing animals. So it will be the BIG five insects. Took us three hours to get out of paspsort control and a 5 mile drive to the hotel, but the man who picked us up said simply Relax...! all good all good. Hakuna Matata. Charlie: what MOVIE IS THAT FROM?????!!!!!! Crashed cousins at airport pool in Dubai during layover Dubai with group of veiled women giggling behind them Waking me up to get business class chocolate new friends more friends

Summer Blog 2013 coming soon!

This was from a couple summers ago...but someone sent it to me just now.
Spoiler alert- we will be going soon to Tanzania with young Charles, one of the world's best cousins; and well known and highly popular figure to loyal blog readers everywhere.
xx

Happy Birthday Chico!

Woke Frederick up to his gift-a large radio controlled airplane. It is a spit fire- British used in WW2: of course the perfect choice for F Der Deutsche

Anyway, last day today-tennis lessons and the usual swim swim baseball swim. As you can see, I am extremely tan....(50 SPF)

chico in his bed

savage tan achieved after 7 days in the tropics

rain approaching

Photos day three (with luggage!)

watching baseball in the heat

Rastafarian who comes by every day

F now fully trained making coffee

Photos

E contemplating a ride on this plane. 

Anguilla or bust

This will be a quickie....  it took two days to get here, with a teeny weeny 8 seater  propeller plane over huge clouds as the grand finale (san juan to anguilla) Ellie -kins was not psyched- especially after she heard the flight would last for almost an hour and a half . Worst of all, they have to weigh all of your carry on bags- with all those embarrassing magazines inside...as well as ask you in front of everyone:
How Much Do You weigh Man?? With a reggae accent.
My Germans however thought it was Christmas. (Especially when the pilot started giving instructions on the fire extinguishers).
To relieve the tension I made a new BFF  on board: a woman I thought was so brave, so blasé  in the face of shark infested waters..that  I started to believe in fearlessness again, until I found BFF from Boston was stoned out of her mind on xanax. I still love her though- even though she does not share .
Sadly my bag did not arrive , and I was desperate to get into the water so I rushed  to the hotel boutique to buy a bathing suit. The horror. (Who has boobs this small? Who can wear a tiny triangle on top like that ?) I am ingesting nothing but sand and pineapples for the next week.
Happily I am now in bed with the sea crashing outside my door - and no unpacking at all.
Photos tomorrow ....

Last Christmas post

Thomas after not seeing the edge

Lukas in an outfit that looks exactly like mine. 

Lukas

me after our little hike

We are leaving so soon and I have not written about crazy Schneider race nor New Year's eve....Race was especially amusing because the Schneiders gave me a megaphone and told me to do the announcing (can you imagine?) I had full creative control. Then later as I was resting with my little flu, G came to the room to haul me downstairs where he handed me the microphone to give out the prizes. I made the other (wonderful) American woman who has been coming here since she was a child, help me read the names. too funny. I was slightly feverish and confused and the Austrians now think we need a talk show. 

Above are pictures of me and Lukas in the back country...weather was too bad for much, but he somehow made it fun. Thomas did not see the bump in the road there and fell; I am learning all kinds of new words for cliff and edge. I particularly pay attention when they say things like do not ski very much to the left. Best part about L is he is a big fan of coffee breaks if I need them. No guilt whatsoever. And all that coffee fills one with mountain bonhomie. Just the other day we were putzing around and he said, I know! let's get the helicopter and go over there! and I said great! let's get my credit card at the hotel! and he said ok ! they are calling us back to see if they can do it! and then I said Let's have a coffee while we wait! It's the new me. 

Other interesting part about mountain guides is they hate hate hate the pistes. One has to do a lot of "shoosing" around here due to the shape of the mountains -get in a tuck and go full speed to get up a hill on the other side. Harumi, ex racer that she is, has no issue with them. But Lukas, Mr. wants to climb Everest without oxygen or sherpa-stops and gives a sage pep talk before each one. It is hilarious...so cautious. Once he came speeding up to me in my tuck and said something into the wind. "WHAT!?" I said. KNEES!!! he said. Finally i realized he was telling me that one has to have really spread knees for safety and I was daintily tucking knees together. word to the wise. 

In other news, Frederick and Luis made a pretty funny movie..I believe it is on youtube..(details to follow) and we had a premiere in the theater here. 

So all is sad now...most have left and the steam bath is filled with Russians. 

See ya real soon!!!!

Peep peeps

H in front of an avalanche from the day before

Barn

EBW in front of avalanche training center contemplating the joys of tennis

The perfect ready position

My ready position 

Here is what we learned yesterday: if your Japanese ski guide suggests, quietly, that you take the bus home from the next town instead of skiing home; take the bus. We brushed off her suggestion and found ourselves in a national geographic penguin movie.  We got to the top of a miserable lift (that is so cold, they used to provide blankets), waited for Harumi to get off and then watched her basically take the hell off. Thomas thinks he heard her say Sayonara.
It was horrible: howling wind and tiny pellets of icy snow in the face. I could not see H or Thomas (at that point it is each man for himself...but only for a brief while). Then a bit of a reprieve as we got lower. Harumi was mumbling, as she always does, about the brutal effects of this on her skin (she is a Japanese girl after all).
With the sub optimal conditions around here, we are spending a lot of time at the avalanche training center (see above photo) where one can practice looking for avalanche peeps. That way when one's friend or ski guide is buried in an avalanche, one can calmly and efficiently search for him. I cannot tell you the anxiety this exercise provokes in me. You are timed at how long it takes to find the peeps...with the gentle reminder from the very polite Japanese ski guide, that after about 15 minutes the person under the snow has "problems". After she saw my performance the first day, she looked kind of alarmed and we have been there every day since. Today was a bit faster, but really this is just not my strength.
Adding to my anxiety is this terrible story of a ski guide who witnessed two fatalities last year: both were excellent skiers, one hit his head, one broke neck. We ran into him today, and he looks exactly like the actor you would hire if you happened to want to make a nazi ski propaganda movie. Master race-ish and stoic. He is fairly difficult to look at without saying something stupid. And now that I know he had this terrible year last year, I can really make a fool of myself (am constantly thinking do not mention head injuries!!)

Above is Harumi San with some much deserved cake.

Merry Christmas!

Greetings from balmy Austria! it is like spring here, which is bad for people who like to ski in the wilderness. Thomas had a hell of a time. They went with "skins" (device on the bottom of their skis which enable them to walk up hill) and then when it was time to go down, had to contend with horrible icy, crusty snow through the trees. He said his skis were faster than the guides and he kept almost over taking him on this narrow way down with a genuine fear that this time, he would not be able to stop and end up in Innsbruck.
Harumi and I spent two hours dissecting my ready position. Seems to have helped-she is happy.

Best part of the day was when I was sitting with the S family at lunch. They joke that I am in charge of the ski race this year and I said that I thought it would be more fun if we challenged the rival five star hotel-the Gasthof Post. So we are laughing..batting around an America's cup type thing: where the two hotels compete for glory and the winner gets to make the rules (as in the sailing race)...and the hotel with the top 20 race times wins. All guests and staff welcome. Well Mrs. S listens to this, and in a move that made me love her even more than I loved her before...an act of such decisive action, of supreme Austrian bad ass backbone, she says, simply: Gerold, pass me the (goddamn- my words not hers, but they were in the air) phone. And with one arm on her seat cushion, and an exasperated look on her face asks for the Post's owner. Sigh. Yes I will wait. Yes tell her I called.
I turned to her son and said: Now that is what a hotel owner looks like!
Also when someone suggested another five star hotel (that shall remain nameless) She snorted and said "I don't think those (pansies- again my word but it was in the air...) even ski. " I mean she is so beyond....
So it looks like game on people. The owner called back and said she thinks she could get a group together. Who knows where this will go? uniforms? pranks over the years stealing the cup from its place in the window? steroids? One  well-born Arab friend heard the proposal and said he was all in, but immediately accused them of cheating. I mean it-we told him the idea and he said: TRUST BUT VERIFY! We said verify what? doping? checking bode miller in as a guest? That is the point..there are no rules. (One understand why there is so little hope for harmony in the Middle East).
As usual Christmas eve (they call it holy evening) was a romantic night. We assemble in our room for champagne and presents, then go downstairs for Christmas singing and dinner.

It is very pretty and kind of sentimental and always the same. Plus everyone looks good in the semi darkness.
I told G to make an announcement that for the next few days no alcohol would be served to any potential racer. He did not. Mrs. S (exactly as I thought) is now scouting for the very best talent in the kitchen. She seems to think we have some real ski bums hiding under those chefs hats.....and who knows? maybe my ready position will enable me to somehow, someway help the cause.

thomas lighting the candles on the tree. In an entirely wooden hotel. 

S singing for us

E listening to Gangnam style on new ipod. Pronounced it very catchy

dinner...me in the long white number from the 70s. 

Cousins

First Days

Tree in our room

F and L 

Harumi-san 

view from hotel

A few photos of the first days. All is well. Snow was great one day but now it rained and there is very little to do but go on the groomed runs or practice finding avalanche beepers. H looked mildly alarmed when she saw how inept I was at finding her backpack in the snow and suggested we practice again tomorrow. If an avalanche falls on her with me as her only rescuer, she is a goner-san.
F had his first day of ski school today, but he and L came with me and Harumi yesterday when the snow was deep and fluffy and the sun came out. Lovely. The picture above is when she gave us chocolate mid way. Luis showed up with tiny little narrow skis his things dropping all over the place poles everywhere helmet half way on..glasses askew, and then proceeded to shred the powder like he was on proper skis. He reminds me so much of Charlie.....looks disorganized but get down to business. F can keep up, but it requires every ounce of mental concentration, and he is far from relaxed. Kept mumbling that he would like to go to the race course...a place he enjoys greatly with all that hard snow and order. In fact he beat thomas for the first time! Unfortunately Thomas proceeded to wake up and the next time really skimmed those gates...got his boot caught on one of them, spun around and banged his head quite hard. The rest of us were watching in total confusion- we could not understand who this person was who was in a crumple on the slope. It seems he will not go down without a fight...it might kill him but he will not hand over the reigns.
I have Harumi until the 28th and then she has someone else for me named, alarmingly, Lukas. meaning male and Austrian which are two characteristics I avoid when picking a ski partner....the only thing scarier is if his name were Schneider.

The Winter Blog rides again!

Hello to all, meaning: my mother, aunt, cousin, Amy R, and some guy in Latvia. (We may be a small group, but we are hearty and loyal and that is something).
There was a special request that I start the Blog earlier, i.e. upon travel day, and I say what the hell.
I have nothing to report other than I almost killed myself just now reaching from a stool way above my head to try to find a bag, and fell so hard, the boys came rushing in like this was finally the end. I did not even swear. That is how bad it was.
Anyway I appear to be in one piece...all I could think of was this would really really suck to be on a ski vacation with a neck brace.
All bags are packed, many fine dresses, little dancing shoes, ski clothes, avalanche peeps, presents for the family, christmas cds we cannot live without
Here is a word from Frederick: Sugar does not make kids hyper. Also waking a sleep walker is fine for the sleeper; but maybe not for you.
(He is reading an article called "The whole truth" which is filled with facts like these. Obviously this blog is the place to come for the truth.)
Driver is here...next blog from the warm embrace of the Almhof Schneider.