Big Girls Don't Cry

You can take the girl out of the city, but can you take the city out of the girl?

I thought this to myself as I anxiously suited up Sunday morning (at 5:30am) for a snowboading trip in the Dolomite Mountains! I've had one previous snowboarding experience...it was circa 2001 with my ex-boyfriend who insisted that I not take a lesson and promised that he would teach me instead. After about 20 minutes he lost his patience (what little he had) and disappeared into the zero visibility, leaving me to fend for myself.

But I wasn't going to let tramautic memories ruin a perfectly awesome Sunday of skiing in Italy with some new friends! So I put on my game face (and a rather cute boaring outfit, compliments of my old job), downed two espressos and began the ascent up to Pecol, about an hour and a half away from Treviso.

We arrived before the crowds, easily rented boots and a board and went straight up in the gondola. Showtime.

After a few passes on the practice hill the guys decided we should throw caution to the wind and go down the real mountain. Oh Dio. My first run was disasterous; a series of flailing mishaps, face plants and falls. I even managed to take down my 6 foot 4 inch, 190 pound friend who ever-so-patiently guided me down. My most fantastic face plant nearly knocked the wind out of me, at which point as I fought back tears I thought, maybe I should have stayed on the bunny slope. Needless to say, my confidence wasn't at it's peak by the time I reached the bottom, but after fueling up with a mid-morning wurstel sandwhich (think sliced hot dogs on a hamburger bun) we went back up for round two.

I don't know how it happened, but on my 2nd run this city girl was actually snowboarding! Ok, I definitely fell a couple of times and by no means looked cool, but I finally became one with my snowboard and found my balance! Such a rush.

Run number three wasn't as successful, probably due to my trembling muscles and worn out knees but I felt satisfied with my modest success. I spent the rest of the day chatting with some locals and met an adorable Italian girl at the log cabin-ish panini shop who I'm going to meet for coffee and do a language exchange with (half hour of English, half hour of Italian). Oh, and I can't forget the Vin Brule. No cold winter day in Italy would be complete without it.