I’m sitting in our room on the third floor of a French hotel. Technically it’s their second floor- but since I’m a silly American- we don’t call the ground floor “0” or the “Receiving” floor. We have a small balcony that overlooks one of the many small winding roads in this southern France ski village. We have five and a half days here. To drink good alcohol. To eat good food. To ski beautiful slopes. And hopefully make new friends.
I just unwrapped my fourth ‘Krema’ candy. This one is lemon and unfortunately was the last one in the bag. There are a ton of orange flavored candies left. They’ll probably be there for a bit.
At this point in our journey (my fiancée and I) we’ve trekked to the Denver airport. A surprisingly alright long flight to Paris and a quick connection from Paris to Lyon. Customs just waved us through with a single stamp and no questions.
We got scammed by the first large taxi we took from a Rhone express taxi stand. We didn’t care at that point. We were ready to be at our first hotel. In total, we have two long ski bags, two ski boot bags, 2 large duffle backpack bags, and a backpack between the both of us.
Once we were at our hotel in Lyon, we walked the roads in an attempt to find dinner. I can’t even remember what the French translation of my meal was- but it was a sirloin in a cream peppercorn gravy. I will eat that any day. I had a glass of an undoubtedly smooth glass of Chardonnay at the same restaurant. The next day- my fiancée found us a Michelin recommended restaurant for dinner. That was the best meal I’ve ever eaten. Probably. Except the meals at Wendy’s after a backpacking trip or 14er hike. Those chicken nuggets go hard after eating a pouch meal.
We did some sightseeing and shopping. Lyon is known for their silk district. My Christmas gift from Jeff was a beautiful silk scarf of my choosing – made from a designer in Lyon. She was a true gem.
On our last morning in Lyon- I opened the floor to ceiling windows and stepped out onto the balcony to witness Lyon in the morning. Quiet.
For two Americans that are busy bodies- this was a pace to get used to. Savor the moment. Sit at the dinner table longer to chat/laugh. Sip your digestive (noun) a little longer.
As we said goodbye to Lyon- we high-fived many times because we had trekked through multiple subway stops and the train station to catch our train. One that we cut a bit close.
Chambéry was a one-night stay. A beautiful village to walk around and explore. My stubborn “I can do this” attitude told Jeff that we were walking to the hotel from the train station. Longest .4 miles of my life. Moments of rest while lugging around an extra 70 lbs (me only lugging around my own luggage) Jeff laughing with me and both of us complaining how stiff our backs and joints were. It was a triumph moment of I knew I could do it- but should’ve just spent the 10 Euros and hailed a taxi… don’t worry- we had reception call us a taxi on the way back the next day.
And here we are. I’m sitting in the corner of the room where I just ate four Kremas. The chair is barrel shaped with a three-leaf clover pattern. Apparently, they couldn’t spare a fourth leaf. I was about to go wander around the village when inspiration sparked to write. I’m not brought to happy tears too often. But- I’m sitting here thinking how fortunate I am to have made this trip happen. How fortunate I am to have a partner in life that wants to do trips like this with me. I didn’t realize how burnt out I was until getting here- and the most important thing to do in a day was to explore. Or- don’t miss the train.
We went to an art exhibition in Lyon that had a fascinating exhibit on dreaming. Most were in French- but towards the end of the show- we arrived at a booth in the center of the room. Two small wooden steps were the bench. White curtains adorned the makeshift space. A TV hung on the wall in front of you. Next to it. No translation needed. “The American Dream.” It showed a nine-minute clip of Design for Dreaming 1956 . It made me think of the American Dream and how it was and is depicted.
Perhaps, the American Dream should be switched up a bit. My mind has been pondering what my version of the American Dream is.
I’m getting anxious to go find a cheap, homemade loaf of bread to snack on. So, adios for a bit. (We do accidentally keep speaking Spanish and not French at times.) Maybe I’ll write more after this week of skiing. Who knows.
Take the vacation. You deserve to tweak the American Dream to fit your needs and ambitions. If it is too hard to even fathom taking time off for new experiences. “Do it for the stakeholders.” Hehe. We don’t make it out alive anyway. 🤷♀️
You know when I said I may or may not write more? Well- here’s more. Yesterday I had theeeee absolute worst mental block since I began skiing. I found myself in my first snowstorm with wicked winds and cold temps. Frozen limbs out of fear and was at the borderline of a panic attack. I was on a green trail. Yes. A green trail. This, however, was unlike anything I’d ever skied before. The French Alps are a beautiful beast of their own. Expansive, Snow White fields of jutting peaks. It was difficult to determine the slope of the runs.
Fear was running high. Tension was high. My body was shaking. Paralyzed with fear. I eventually skied down and even pushed myself further and completed additional runs. I could have quit- but I didn’t. I got down without hurting myself. Then enter an afternoon with some disappointment crying and frustration mixed in. I’m not a non-athletic person by any means. Yet- I hit a metaphorical wall HARD. I walked back to the hotel cussing myself and trying to stay positive that I did indeed push aside fear. I hate negative self-talk and rarely do it to myself. I was lacking confidence in my ability and self-worth because I was reminded just how small I am compared to nature. It was as if I had not skied an entire day in my life and one stuck me on top of the mountain and said “figure it out.” I wallowed in self-pity and loathing for four hours. Then found a solution as I usually do.
Yesterday after the hardest day of skiing in my entire life- I wanted to say f*** this and quit. Yet- I found myself booking a ski instructor at 9pm last night and Whatsapping with a complete stranger about my ski skill. Because problems only become bigger problems if you don’t work towards solutions. My mind had concluded that the next logical step would be to hire a ski instructor to help validate and start from scratch. And that’s what I did today.
I’m not sure where all the anxiety went that I had coursing through my body. But- today, I was maximizing my time. I was listening. I was making sure that I stayed humble and open to constructive criticism. I was vulnerable. Because when we need to fix something- we HAVE TO be open and willing to show all our cards. Show our weaknesses if we are trying to improve. I had to accept that I needed help. As a person that is very process-oriented; it’s low-key difficult to accept that I have to start from scratch on something athletic-focused and learn new dynamics. But that’s the game folks. None of us are perfect and now- I get to work on fixing myself and working towards better mechanics while skiing. My ski instructor was a neat guy. He videoed me at times and wrote a blog about what I worked on as well as teachable moments for others to consider. At risk of being vulnerable- here his blog write up.
I had the absolute best day today. Self-improvement is my jam. And now- I get to focus on being an athlete and relearning skills that will set me up for skiing success. Meanwhile- I will push out one of the hardest days of self-loathing I’ve had in years and remember that I cannot and will not ever master skiing. But I can sure try.
I’m starting a second post because this one is becoming a book. Look for part two!
Danae Decker 