TRAVEL AND LIFESTYLE DIARIES

The biggest myth about skiing or winter sport, deliberately assumed by many, which probably, could be the reason why certain individuals shy away from it, is that, IT IS ALL ABOUT THE SPORT AND THE ACTION. ---Well honeys, I’ve got some fascinating news to report, its WRONG! Perhaps it is in other parts of the world, but definitely NOT in laid back, carefree, culture rich and convivial Europe. When Europeans think about winter sport holiday, they think simple, well, that is, in European ways... their frame of mindset leans towards the delectation of life’s leisureliness. An apt synonym commonly used here is this, holidaying. The FOCUS as they say, is supposed to be the HOLIDAY or the TOTAL SKI EXPERIENCE. Thus and is the reason why this whole winter sport shebang doesn’t revolve on the sport itself and its subsequent action alone. Daredevil antics such as flying mid-air, skiing off-route and vertical drops in kamikaze breakneck speed, are for the professionals, and though they may happe...

Alright, let’s have a short break on this Austrian ski experience holiday series, as too much discourse on the same subject matter can result to our nostril hairs flapping [bored sigh] and retinas dilating [eyes rolling]. I will post the entry about the European Winter Sport Culture and the Accident after this. So, what’s cooking for intermission? MUNICH Yes MUNICH, Germany [ Munchen in Deutsch]… but Munich Massacre, Black September, Israeli Athletes, 1972 Summer Olympics. Dutchman and I just watched this recently released controversial movie, MUNICH , directed by none other than Steven Spielberg himself, which I believe has sparked a hefty and generous debate in both Israel and Palestinian camps. The film was based on the 1984 novel by George Jonas, Vengeance: The True Story of an Israeli Counter-Terrorist Team . Here is an editorial review of the Vengeance book in Amazon, or shall I also say, the Munich film: “Avner was the leader of that team, handpicked by Golda Meir [1972 Israel’...

Snowstorm Calling 7:30AM, Wednesday. My 3rd day of my ski class. I hurriedly looked out of the bedroom window to check if the weather man from last night’s news was right and indeed, I saw white drops coming down from the dark grey heavens. I also saw the spruce tree I have been eyeing outside since we arrived [the thing could have been a perfect Christmas tree], was already half to its waist buried under the snow. Knowing the forecast for the day, I took no chances and clothed myself really warm. I even armed my hands with an extra thin pair under my thermal ski gloves. I also decided to wear the Eskimo muts [beanies] my sister in law loaned me for the holiday. We’ve had splendid weather the last days, so it was steaming hot to wear the thing, instead, Dutchman used the Eskimo muts as one of his photography props. Here is a lethargic looking Eskimo girl standing by a large alpine tree heavily decked in snow. I think this is one of my funniest and ugliest foto. Next is the ride up in...

During my growing up years, I found out that athletics proved to be the weakest link in my system. It doesn’t go well with my taste buds in life’s choices of pleasurable activities. I am not thrilled with it nor do I have any tiny hint of affinity to physical vigorous dealings. Well, unless if it is the, back hump shaking in a discotheque. So when I told everyone in the Dutch family that Dutchman and I are going to winter sport in January, almost all of them sat in silence, for a few seconds, with their opaque blue eyes suspended and their eyebrows parting a bit, just like how those midnight prowling owls behave when they see something that piqued their interest. “Oh echt?!” [“Oh really?!”], sang the jolly chorus after the few seconds of countdown. Even the Dutchman himself, kept teasing me mercilessly with corresponding gawky movements, of his arms, his legs, coupled with stretching out his butt, like a duck, in the hopes of comically exemplifying me with my skis up in the slopes. He...

The Austrian map, looks like a fried chicken thigh, hehe. Check Zell am Ziller on the west tail end, our point of arrival, about 60 kilometers east of Innsbruck, the capital of Tirol region. Being used to living in a flat surface country and a cold Dutch winter that seldom snows, I was almost in a speechless state when I looked out of the window as we rolled in into the Austrian highway. “Are we in Austria?” I asked while rubbing my finger knuckles on my eyes and gazing back out of the car’s window. I slept halfway through the ride, somewhere after Frankfurt to the direction of Munich, I think. “Yes we are.” said the Dutchman grinning at me. “Did you sleep well?” “Yeah, I did.” I answered sleepily with my mind far away still lost into my new striking green and white surroundings. 1st foto is a service road going to the direction of Aschau and the 2nd foto is a panoramic view of Mayrhofen. Pay attention to the ice cap glaciers, the white blanket of snow and the lush of pine trees....

We just came back from our winter sport holiday in Zillertal , which in English literally means, Ziller Valley , nestled peacefully in the heart of the European Alps in Tirol, Austria. One week is indeed enough of this back, leg, knee, arm and neck breaking snow sport. 1st foto: the Zillertal Arena cable car; 2nd foto: lift somewhere in the Tirolean Alps; 3rd foto: me sitting in the lift, ready for some action. At any rate, my body’s resistance was gnarled, and my character, put to the ultimate test, ergo, I am so beaten dood moe [dead tired] but I have many exciting and scary stories to report!!! Here is a quick wrap-up for the eager ones who can’t wait... Day one of our official ski holiday, this ruthless beginner, that’s me by the way, who actually never skied on real snow as my training in Holland was done in a plastic brush hill with a 5 to 10 meter tilt... guess what, directly scaled the steep red piste [slope]! Daring? Well not yet, not quite enough. I also braved, had no choic...