Portes du Soleil is the largest contiguous skiing area in mainland Europe, with mountains falling on both sides of the French-Swiss border. When I was young, I took ski lessons in Morzine, the largest town in the area. I always remember the area being referred to as Morzine-Avoriaz, named after the two mountains on either side of the valley. In our 4 years visiting the area, I only remember one time my parents took me up to ski on Avoriaz, and on a snowy slope, I saw a flag indicating we were at the Swiss border.
As it seems, that flag is only a short drive past Lake Geneva. In fact, from the base of Crosets, it takes only a single ride on the chairlift to reach a seemingly disputed peak; I suppose that's why they bother to sell a two-zone ski pass there. After an 8-minute, 1600-meter ride on the lift, we reached this peak and promptly took a southwesterly bearing. On our way down, we only saw one unbelievably long lift that would take us back up, so we tried kind of hopped trails in an attempt to keep things interesting and to actually reach our only hope for return. Our expedition led straight down into a large, deep valley. When I arrived at the bottom, I noticed that another lift, further off to the right, bore signage indicating that it led to the peak of Avoriaz. Suspiciously, the lift right in front of me also bore the name of the French mountain, and my Swiss-only pass wouldn't allow me access to the chairs that would return me to Helvetica. Fortunately, it seems that whoever was supposed to be attending the lift wasn't paying much attention, because I followed the lead of the Swiss delinquent in front of me who removed his skis and hopped the turnstile. Fortunately for the rest of my group, since they were at least 15 minutes behind me, Kevin had accidentally bought a two-zone pass, and could scan it every couple minutes to let all 6 of the guys through.
So, that was the first run of the day.
Crosets is an amazing place, and the name Portes du Soleil is not a misnomer. It was sunny spring conditions in mid-February, there were 80-centimeter crevasses forming in the snow higher up, and I got sunburned. Luckily, I wasn't wearing goggles. Unluckily, I was wearing my mustache.
I spent all day with Luke, Kevin, Logan, Will, and Matt, plus a 15-year-old Swiss German named Luca who is on base taking an English class. We found a terrain park with manageably-sized-but-still-exciting jumps and a snowcross course that emptied out into a natural halfpipe, and we spent the hours before and after lunch going through it about 6 times. Jordan (Martina's husband) joined up with us after lunch, and he showed us a cool powdery tree run that culminates with a 20-foot drop off of a cliff into masses of soft powder. Every time we got to that part, we paused, regrouped, and went over the drop one-by-one. It was intimidating, but the landing was so thickly padded that I'm uncertain whether there is any possible way to get hurt there. On Will's first attempt, he and I were the only ones remaining. He had never skied in powder before and was slightly hesitant about the jump, and he wisely asked me to wait and go after him. On impact, he lost his right ski, and it seemed fortunate that I could just drop down right next to it, dig it out, and hand it over. Of course, it didn't work out that simply: as I pulled the ski out by its end, the snow on my gloves allowed its metal edges to slide frictionlessly out of my grasp, and it promptly took off down the hill. I took off after it on my snowboard, splashing powder everywhere in a way that made me afraid I might accidentally bury it, and Will removed his other ski and started bodysurfing in pursuit of his footgear. Long story short, we achieved victory. Also, it's hard to put skis back on in deep powder.
As it seems, that flag is only a short drive past Lake Geneva. In fact, from the base of Crosets, it takes only a single ride on the chairlift to reach a seemingly disputed peak; I suppose that's why they bother to sell a two-zone ski pass there. After an 8-minute, 1600-meter ride on the lift, we reached this peak and promptly took a southwesterly bearing. On our way down, we only saw one unbelievably long lift that would take us back up, so we tried kind of hopped trails in an attempt to keep things interesting and to actually reach our only hope for return. Our expedition led straight down into a large, deep valley. When I arrived at the bottom, I noticed that another lift, further off to the right, bore signage indicating that it led to the peak of Avoriaz. Suspiciously, the lift right in front of me also bore the name of the French mountain, and my Swiss-only pass wouldn't allow me access to the chairs that would return me to Helvetica. Fortunately, it seems that whoever was supposed to be attending the lift wasn't paying much attention, because I followed the lead of the Swiss delinquent in front of me who removed his skis and hopped the turnstile. Fortunately for the rest of my group, since they were at least 15 minutes behind me, Kevin had accidentally bought a two-zone pass, and could scan it every couple minutes to let all 6 of the guys through.
So, that was the first run of the day.
Crosets is an amazing place, and the name Portes du Soleil is not a misnomer. It was sunny spring conditions in mid-February, there were 80-centimeter crevasses forming in the snow higher up, and I got sunburned. Luckily, I wasn't wearing goggles. Unluckily, I was wearing my mustache.
I spent all day with Luke, Kevin, Logan, Will, and Matt, plus a 15-year-old Swiss German named Luca who is on base taking an English class. We found a terrain park with manageably-sized-but-still-exciting jumps and a snowcross course that emptied out into a natural halfpipe, and we spent the hours before and after lunch going through it about 6 times. Jordan (Martina's husband) joined up with us after lunch, and he showed us a cool powdery tree run that culminates with a 20-foot drop off of a cliff into masses of soft powder. Every time we got to that part, we paused, regrouped, and went over the drop one-by-one. It was intimidating, but the landing was so thickly padded that I'm uncertain whether there is any possible way to get hurt there. On Will's first attempt, he and I were the only ones remaining. He had never skied in powder before and was slightly hesitant about the jump, and he wisely asked me to wait and go after him. On impact, he lost his right ski, and it seemed fortunate that I could just drop down right next to it, dig it out, and hand it over. Of course, it didn't work out that simply: as I pulled the ski out by its end, the snow on my gloves allowed its metal edges to slide frictionlessly out of my grasp, and it promptly took off down the hill. I took off after it on my snowboard, splashing powder everywhere in a way that made me afraid I might accidentally bury it, and Will removed his other ski and started bodysurfing in pursuit of his footgear. Long story short, we achieved victory. Also, it's hard to put skis back on in deep powder.
It's tough to say that Crosets is my favorite mountain so far, but that's mostly because Villars was so good. Indisputably, the terrain park was the best I've ever enjoyed and the many ravines and lightly-used powder runs through the trees were excellent. The only downside was that the sheer number of people going through there were really packing down the snow and creating some congestion on the more groomed runs, but the off-trail skiing at Portes du Soleil is so expansive that you barely need to stay on the actual trails.
Tuesday last week was Valentine's Day, and it was actually the best Valentine's Day I've had since elementary school. Our topic for Week 5 was, of course, Relationships, but it can more accurately be said that the teacher mostly joked about romantic relationships while covering more fundamental issues relating primarily to how Jesus summed up "all the Law and the Prophets" (i.e. the whole Bible) with "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself." In between going through 1 Corinthians 13 backwards, along with other select verses about God's love, nature, and character (which are all love) and mentions of how Christians should be more socially conscious because God cares about all people, Troy Sherman mercilessly mocked Leah and Kevin for sitting at the same table on the first day when they knew it was Relationships Week and promised that, with our "perfect" 1:1 gender ratio, we'd all be hooked up by the end of the week. In opposition to this intentionally absurd "prophetic word" lies the much cooler de jure sexual climate here: one page on the school application included a signature-required clause that we would not pursue "exclusive relationships" during the course of these 5 months. Of course, everyone is being good and abiding by the codes of conduct to which we've agreed in the interest of community living, but we're also all in a certain age group, and my classmates are therefore only pursuing inclusive relationships, meaning all being good-natured, generous, and somewhat snarky towards the entirety of the opposite sex in a manner that at least appears equitable.
Now that the atmosphere has been described, back to Valentine's Day. Upon getting wind that the female folk were plotting something, we men wrested control of our classroom on Monday evening and occupied it for a few hours, working on cards for our classmates. Of course, none of us were going to make a specific card for a specific girl, so we each just illustrated the exteriors and then decided arbitrarily which one was going to whom. Then, we filled the interiors of the cards with a single message for each of them, drawn from all our collective genius and wordsmithery, and with carefully-selected verses from Song of Solomon (because Martina suggested it as a joke, and the best thing we could do was to apply it). We then pooled our resources to procure 7 red roses, which we presented in the morning to each of the ladies and to Martina along with the cards that we had hand-made. They graciously received the pathetic messes we'd scribbled and made a big show of smelling all their flowers and then apologized that they hadn't gotten us anything, and then they told us that they were lying. They told us to meet in the classroom after lunch, and Matt confidently declared that they had made dessert for us. When we entered, we found a riddle posted on the board; Matt immediately said "It's just gonna lead us to the middle room upstairs, guys." After three minutes of following clues to the Annex basement and the garage, we indeed found ourselves in the middle room upstairs with paper cards in the shape of hearts (each containing writing from all 6 girls), squares of homemade fudge, and little origami boxes full of confections, decorated with bunches of hearts and such phrases as "YWAM: Young Women After Men," "Marry Me," a lipstick print with a phone number (one not belonging to any of the girls in our class, of course), and, on the box Matt obtained, "You're a tease." Magdy asked "What is 'tease'?" and quickly reprimanded Matt when we explained it to him (on a side note, the girls later told me that they randomized which box went to whom, as we had done with cards). Magdy's other comment on the matter was "You know what, guys? Seriously, you are lucky. You guys are very lucky that these girls do this for you." I agree. I'm actually really impressed. Hats off, ladies.
Now that the atmosphere has been described, back to Valentine's Day. Upon getting wind that the female folk were plotting something, we men wrested control of our classroom on Monday evening and occupied it for a few hours, working on cards for our classmates. Of course, none of us were going to make a specific card for a specific girl, so we each just illustrated the exteriors and then decided arbitrarily which one was going to whom. Then, we filled the interiors of the cards with a single message for each of them, drawn from all our collective genius and wordsmithery, and with carefully-selected verses from Song of Solomon (because Martina suggested it as a joke, and the best thing we could do was to apply it). We then pooled our resources to procure 7 red roses, which we presented in the morning to each of the ladies and to Martina along with the cards that we had hand-made. They graciously received the pathetic messes we'd scribbled and made a big show of smelling all their flowers and then apologized that they hadn't gotten us anything, and then they told us that they were lying. They told us to meet in the classroom after lunch, and Matt confidently declared that they had made dessert for us. When we entered, we found a riddle posted on the board; Matt immediately said "It's just gonna lead us to the middle room upstairs, guys." After three minutes of following clues to the Annex basement and the garage, we indeed found ourselves in the middle room upstairs with paper cards in the shape of hearts (each containing writing from all 6 girls), squares of homemade fudge, and little origami boxes full of confections, decorated with bunches of hearts and such phrases as "YWAM: Young Women After Men," "Marry Me," a lipstick print with a phone number (one not belonging to any of the girls in our class, of course), and, on the box Matt obtained, "You're a tease." Magdy asked "What is 'tease'?" and quickly reprimanded Matt when we explained it to him (on a side note, the girls later told me that they randomized which box went to whom, as we had done with cards). Magdy's other comment on the matter was "You know what, guys? Seriously, you are lucky. You guys are very lucky that these girls do this for you." I agree. I'm actually really impressed. Hats off, ladies.
It seems that, yet again, I've managed a reasonably-sized update while still not summarizing anything that I've been learning. I have some thoughts on bilingualism, service, and identity, but it's 1 a.m. here and I need some more time to compose my ideas on those topics.
Ciao!
Ciao!
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