February 25, 2023
We sat outside on Adirondack chairs nursing a coffee in the sunshine. The temperature was around freezing. Next to us, young people drank beer, taking a break from snowboarding or downhill skiing. The flat valley at the bottom of the mountain buzzed with the young crowd, some people getting ready with rented skis while others picked up their skis leaning against the ski stands. It was a noisy atmosphere with laughter, and rock music blasting out of loudspeakers at the lodge.
I thought back to Covid times just a couple of years ago when we had to “distance ourselves” from each other and preferably avoid people altogether. This was the total opposite, with the crowd milling around with no masks nearby. What a pleasurable and positive change I thought!
John, a grizzled ski instructor, took our grandchildren for a ski lesson, their first time on skis; they live in Durham, NC with hardly an opportunity to ski. John introduced himself to the children and asked softly about their names, where they are from, and what other sports they play and enjoy. Then they went off to the “magic carpet” for their lesson (the magic carpet is a conveyor belt that takes beginner skiers up the hill while standing on it). We heard later the lesson started with skiing in a circle on one foot, pushing with the other foot. The upshot of the lesson was that the children came back and jumped on the ski lift accompanied by their father and aunt and came down on the steep hills with gusto, with maybe a fall of two.
The next day we tried to interest the grandchildren in other winter activities such as cross-country skiing and snowshoeing, which they found boring. And they lasted a short time tobogganing because they had to walk up the relatively short hill. So we changed plans and went back to downhill skiing the following day.
Emily, a high school senior, took the children for another downhill ski lesson the next day. The children bonded instantly with Emily when she explained she had two siblings the same age as they were. Emily took them up the ski lift and taught them to keep their skis parallel, and showed them how to turn. In two amazing lessons, the grandchildren, aged 13 and 9, were flying down the steep hills.
During the ski lesson, we took a walk along the hills and noticed the real estate development taking place around the slopes. There is a modern hotel and condos built that, we heard, were owner-occupied or rented, according to a woman walking a dog with whom we engaged in a conversation.
She had a strong accent, and I inquired where she was from. She proudly explained she came from Bosnia 17 years ago when she married her Canadian husband and started working in a café making sandwiches that she had never made before. That was surprising to me. I thought everybody knew how to make a sandwich, but she said she was a “professional woman” and perhaps she worked in an office back home. But she advanced her career and is a financial person at Carleton University today.
During the last seventeen years, she has become a true “Canadian”, she said. As an example of what she meant, she related that when she goes home, she tells people not to smoke in her presence. It took me a few minutes to digest this aspect of being a Canadian; I was not aware of it. To emphasize her point, she said that back in Bosnia, people tell her she is more Canadian now than Bosnian. She confided in us she has no intention of going back home. Considering that she has a Canadian husband with a good government job in Ottawa and a high school-age daughter here, it would make sense for her to carry on with her life here in Canada.
Although she had a place close by, she was not a skier. She was an immigrant and although some come from Europe, most immigrants to Canada are from China and India today, where skiing may not be popular and available to the extent it is available in Canada. I noticed perhaps a dozen Asians among the hundreds of skiers on the hills. This, of course, may change in the future as more immigrants become used to the local climate and culture.
We moved from Washington, DC to Ottawa in 1971 and had become keen skiers in no time; both downhill and cross-country. And our children took up all the winter sports. Having graduated from high school here, the children moved on and left the area. Their children have not had the opportunity to ski; except when they come to visit us. And this is how our grandchildren from Durham, NC came up and discovered downhill skiing this year. I am sure they are dreaming of coming back for more skiing.

