Once Upon A Dream

I was living in Europe and packing as much into it as I could. I'd met a girl and she took me skiing with a group of her friends. Neither of us had skiied before and at the end of the day we came to the conclusion that this was something which needed to be done more often. The only way to do that would be to develop some level of competence because it was obvious that the skiing part was much more fun than the falling down part. That meant taking some lessons.

I bought some ski magazines and tried to get smart about where was a good place to learn this skill. I was in Europe so the usual suspects for an American were not on the table. That meant a European resort and it doesn't take a genius to quickly narrow the choices down to Switzerland or Austria. Sure there is some French skiing and Italian as well, but the real place to experience it had to be one of those two nations.

There were factors beyond skiing driving the choice. We were planning a two week vacation over Christmas and there was always the possibility that we might not like it as much when immersed in the sport. We would have to fall back on our love of great food, fine wine and living large, European style.

The magazines helped me conclude that Zermatt was arguably the greatest ski area in the world. Plane reservation from Madrid to Geneva. Train tickets first class to Visp then switch to a narrow guage up to Zermatt, a village which allowed no cars and employed horse-drawn sleighs to get around. Reservation for two weeks at a four-star hotel with two gourmet meals a day included. Top it all off with a view of the Matterhorn.



It's changed a little bit since then, but the Nicoletta Hotel remains and the skiing is just as incredible. The three huge areas seem to go on forever and during the next eight years we returned regularly discovering it was possible to ski for a week or more at a time and never retrace your steps.

There were unbelievable lunches in small mountain cafes, each of which seemed to have a specialty that was unique to them alone. In the spring you could almost always sit on the patio, surrounded by snow banks, sipping on Fendant and a hearty lunch of spiegeleier mit rosti or maybe fondue or raclette. It was impossible to sit without regularly finding yourself entranced and silently staring at the mountain. No place on earth can rival it.

I wish I were young again.