Skiing, or Why My Body Hurts Everywhere

I went skiing for the first time Saturday. I'm probably a little behind the rest of my friends/ people in the United States when it comes to skiing experience.  So when I got the opportunity to go skiing in Farrellones, Chile for 40 luca ($80), and in keeping with my unbreakable tradition of making impulsive decisions, I jumped on it. My instructions were appropriately sketchy: I was to have the money with me in cash, and meet outside of Cafe Journal (a popular expat bar) at 5:30 a.m. When I got there and didn't get mugged/raped/killed my group was slightly less diverse than the United Nations. Two Americans--me and a girl from Charleston, four Chileans, three French people, a German, and a girl from Finland, and led by an awesome black dude from London. I felt like I was in a Guy Ritchie movie.

When googling "snatch," it's best to have safe search turned on.

Part of the reason that I signed on to the trip was that it was mainly for beginner skiers. Some of the group was, but the countries like Germany and Finland tend to have a lot of mountains and see a lot of snow. So I went to the beginner class with some elementary school kids while my group skied off like Lindsey Vonn towards a photo shoot. And by "ski class" I mean generally flat area where people fall down and get yelled at.  My instructor was kind enough to show me how to go forwards and then leave me alone for the next six or seven hours to figure things out on my own. I learned one thing from my first few runs, and that is what I lack in control, I make up for in speed. I'm like Ricky Bobby out there. This also allows for some spectacular crashes. Several times I could have passed for the guy they show during the Wide World of Sports "Agony of Defeat" segment:

I crashed into the same guy on the same run twice--which is a surprisingly effective way to get to know someone. I crashed into a pole, I crashed into a safety net, I tripped over my own skis. Once I accidentally ended up on the advanced course, which I handled well until I hit the jump. In spite of all of this, I eventually figured it out, and can now manage to go down a bunny slope at a reasonable speed and sufficient control. This is the area where I skied:

Shortly after this picture was taken, I crashed into each and every one of these people.

You can kind of make out a city in the distance. That's Santiago.

Despite my inadequacies, I really did enjoy this. In a few days my knee will feel better and my bruises will go away, and I'd definitely be down to do it again.