Unser Letzter Tag

Well, we found yesterday's weather intimidating, but it was nothing compared with the whiteout of this morning.  But we hated to skip, because today was the last day of skiing and ski school, and Ella was meant to be in a little exhibition and would be receiving a medal for her efforts.  How could we miss that?

Skiing's not as much fun in heavy snow.

So we bundled for one last trek up the mountain, although somehow I managed to forget my ski goggles behind.  Skiing without them really wasn't an option, with snow coming down painfully hard.  But rather then make the long trip back on the lifts and the train, Dennis suggested I get myself a new pair and  count them as a souvenir of the week.  So I went to the ski shop at the top of the mountain and got a pair of rose-colored glasses that somehow suit me quite well.

While in the shop, I was inspired to get a balaklava for Ella: it was icy enough that I was worried about her little nose, and, spy- and ninja-obsessed as my eight-year-old is, I figured she'd love it.  We chased down her class, and I'm afraid they all had to wait while we helped Ella wiggle into her new hood, but she seemed really happy to have it.

Dennis and I only took a few runs down the smaller slopes before we noticed that the classes were starting their exhibitions, so we lined up along the slalom run that they'd erected for the morning. We watched child after child weave through the flags, but no Ella. We'd asked Ella's instructor where they'd be doing their racing, and he'd vaguely gestured toward this run, saying, equally vaguely, that it would be "later," so we weren't quite sure how long we had to wait, but we were growing nervous that we'd missed her.  Finally, one of the other parents noticed us fretting and told us that there was a board, posted by the instructor's hut, giving the time and location of each class's runs.  And that was where we learned that Ella had already raced, in a completely different location. Aw...!

At that point we took a few more half-hearted runs down the mountain, before admitting to ourselves that it was too cold and snow to have fun.  So instead we returned to the lodge, where we'd arranged with Ella's instructor to meet her for lunch. Or so we thought.  I waited and waited, while Dennis went off and scouted in several different places.

A garland that I
stared at for a long time.
I don't know why I find
it so charming, but as far
as art goes, it's very
typical of the Alps.

While I was waiting, I had a lot of time to study
the signs and decorations in the lodge.  Like
the list of all of the ice creams that we've been
enjoying all year, which I'm sure we'll be missing.
Ella's favorite, the Dame bar, is missing from
this list. Alex prefers Hello Kitty, of course.

And then we switched places and I went and bought our lunch, while Dennis waited some more.  Only then did I notice Ella and her ski instructor, tromping through he cafeteria, and I hailed them over.

Evil Ella, with her hot chocolate goatee.

Not to stereotype our Netherlandish ski instructor or anything, but as I talked with the man, who, to be fair had impressed us all week, but now disappointed me by being lazily apologetic...well, I became increasingly suspicious that he'd been high all morning. But he was off duty anyway in the afternoon, and told me he'd be handing Ella over to another instructor.














When I asked Ella if she'd prefer to just go home, she didn't pause to think: she was cold, too.  So we (finally) took a long lunch before packing it in.

Before we left, I hailed the head instructor to let her know Ella was done for the day, and she ran off to collect Ella's finisher's medal.  Ella had been disappointed that we weren't there to cheer for her during the exhibition, so I think she was glad that we got to see that, at least.

So we skied home one last time, and there we learned that the boys had collected their own medals, although sadly Joey's was lost somewhere in the bowels of the playroom.  We left the kids to enjoy their fun, while Dennis and I packed up our ski gear up into our biggest duffel bags and hiked it back to the rental shop.

All done.

Since Dennis and I received no medals, we rewarded ourselves with one last visit to the aprés ski hour, limiting ourselves to just a slice or six of cake.  After all, it would be a full hour and a half until our six-course dinner.

"Seared tuna on your own cream"?

Alex, making Christmas gifts for
Oma and Opa.

It won't surprise you to hear that I was a little reluctant to pack our bags after dinner, although given the price of this hotel, we really couldn't stay a minute longer.  We had to be smart about our packing, too, because tomorrow we're returning to Zürich, for a one-night stay in the Altstadt, and we really can't plan on dragging all of our bags and baggage along the cobblestones.

But it's done now, and we end the night with a bunch of overstuffed duffels and one carefully packed suitcase, holding the last two outfits each of us will wear in Switzerland. My, oh my.