One of the things our family most anticipated about Almaty was the chance to experience seasons again, especially winter. I know many of my Minnesota friends and family are probably thinking, “What’s so great about winter? I’d give it up in a heartbeat”, but I bet you’d miss it too if you didn’t have it for ten years! (Side note: while we were obviously in D.C. for 2023-2024, it never felt like real winter because we got no snow and the temps never dipped below freezing.)
What I appreciate about winter here is that it’s cold, but not too cold. Average highs were in the teens or twenties most days—with a fair number of thirties too—and our coldest stretch was lows of -20 right before Christmas. The snow never poured down in droves like the blizzards I remember from childhood. Most often we got the picture-perfect, slow-falling, fluttery flakes that you see in movies. I spent many an hour watching the beautiful flakes drift from the sky! I even noticed the little things that’d I’d stopped paying attention to long ago—the shape of unique icicle formations, the way flakes crystallized on branches or weighed down the pine trees. All of it felt beautiful and new to me again.
Along with winter came the opportunity to ski, something I was both intrigued by and dreading. I liked the idea of being a ‘skier’, but I wasn’t sure about the reality of it (the cold, the possibility of injury, the learning curve). I’ve always taken a cautious approach to physical activity because of my rheumatoid arthritis (now in its 26th year!). My wonky immune system makes healing take 3-4 times longer than the average person (case in point my pulled hamstring from March 2023 that still bothers me after months of physical therapy). And I definitely didn’t want to end up with a broken rib, arm or leg…
There were undoubtedly a lot of reasons to try it though, including:
- My husband’s love of skiing and desire for this to be a family activity
- The women’s club group that went out every Thursday & the generous coordinator who helped new people get the right equipment and book lessons (a daunting thing when you’ve never skied before and you have to communicate in Russian)
- The beauty of the mountains
- The easy access—we could be on the slope 1 hour after leaving home
- The cost–$10 for a 4-hour lift pass, $20 for a full set of rentals, and $30 to 40 dollars for a private lesson depending on if it was a weekday vs weekend.
In the end, I think FOMO was what ultimately got me on the slopes since I knew I’d kick myself later for not giving it a go. I managed to do 10 ski sessions (with 8 lessons) between the end of December and mid-March. Those first few ski days I would wake up crazy-nervous; certain that this would be the day I broke something. Mostly I dreaded falling. At first I was just afraid it would hurt, but turns out it isn’t so bad. What did me in though was the getting up part! Who knew THAT would be so dang hard?! I’m sad to say that even by the end of the season, I still couldn’t get up from falling without removing one of my skis. Alas… #2025goals
My husband, in contrast, has been a skier since age 12. He first learned in the Alps when his family lived in Vienna. Each year there would be a class ski trip where they went to the mountains for the week. Can you even imagine?! Suffice to say, he’s a solid skier. And he has a strong preference for short skis and no poles. I may have to give those a try one day. He says they’re more like ice skates. That sounds promising.
Nia also agreed to give skiing a try, but mostly because we forced her to be in the school’s ski club. As is often the pattern with Nia, her strong initial resistance gave way to genuine enjoyment by the end of the season. I think she even got more sessions in than I did given her six ski school visits! And I definitely appreciated having another beginner in the family. We commiserated on the hard days and cheered each other on as we improved. I was grateful to have her around.
My feelings about skiing are still quite mixed. I don’t like going fast; it feels too “out of control” for my liking. I am told those higher speeds will normalize over time and feel like nothing by the end of next season. We shall see…
Lessons were also quite frustrating. My first instructor and I were not a good match. He just kept repeating the same thing over but it wasn’t clicking for me. The final straw was in lesson two when he told me I had gotten worse since my first lesson. I did not appreciate his Kazakh directness, even if it was the truth.
Challenges aside, I am glad I did it. Being up on the mountaintop on a sunny 30-degree day made me feel so alive and in awe of nature. Seeing things from this ‘on-high’ lens gave me a lot of inspiration and gratitude for the beauty of our world. I also liked the comradery that comes when skiing with others—turns out it’s a very social sport. I even gained a good friend as a result of skiing—my neighbor Sandra and her daughter Elizabeth loved to pair up with Nia and I to go out on the weekends. Their companionship—and fun personalities–helped get me out of the house on several days when I didn’t feel like dealing with the complexities of skiing. We will miss them greatly when they leave in June. :(
My favorite part of the whole experience was the post-skiing lunch. My women’s ski club group was blessed with lots of warm, sunny Thursdays where we’d sit outside after skiing and enjoy a meal of comfort food and lively conversation. I swear to you, that food tasted so good al fresco after working my body hard. My go-to lunch combo was pulled pork with mac & cheese on top, paired with a delicious crisp glass of white. Mmmm. I can still taste it now. Tell me that doesn’t sound amazing!?
The lattes also cracked me up because every time they’d bring it with a straw in the mug! Who drinks espresso drinks with straws?! I gave it a try one day just for fun but it felt soooo wrong.
I think that’s a good place to end. Sorry it got a bit long. Lots to say! Thanks for being here and reading.
