Birthdays and Boarding

So things are really heating up (or perhaps that should be cooling down...) in Canada, which is good for a variety of reasons, the most important being I finally have some news worth blogging about. After all, nobody likes a rambaling blogger, much like nobody likes a musician at an open mic night who is smitten with the sound of their own voice.

First and foremost, it was my birthday last week and I turned 23. Yet another milestone celebrated on the other side of the world. (For reference, other milestones have included eating gator sausage, watching Steph Holt get her first tattoo and being photographed unawares in a Steakouts advertisement. I am easily satisfied.) The benefit of being from Australia and celebrating your birthday in a different country is that you essentially get an additional 17 hours of celebration time. I saw in my Canadian birthday over pool and (a few too many) shots at The Gap and had Mexican that following evening with my roommates and neighbours, my now Canadian family, who were a fine replacement from the people who would have taken me out in Australia to get me drunk on my birthday. This fine replacement also sat me down to watch the movie, The Number 23, and now I am positive something bad is going to happen to me this year courtesy of the 23 enigma.

After a disappointingly warm introduction to winter, it has FINALLY started snowing! It started dumping last weekend and now everything looks like its coated in a thick layer of icing sugar. Unfortunately, snow doesn't taste anything like icing sugar but it looks pretty none the less. So, with snow to cap its peaks, Sunshine Mountain finally opened its doors to the public and I officially started waitressing at Trappers. My first day on the job was much like being thrown into the sea and told to either sink or swim, but I came out the other side with a better appreciation for northern service expectations and $120 in tips. God bless gratuities.

Like the weather hasn't been bipolar enough over the last month, the temperature plumeted to a very uncomfortable -38 degrees this week, forcing the mountain to close and everyone to seek refuge indoors. Despite it being cold enough to freeze your eyelashes together, Sunshine re-opened for part of the day so that only those crazy skiers and snowboarders who are addicted to the snow like Cher is addicted to the knife, could go up and get frostbite.

With all this snow falling out of the sky, I decided it was time to get my boarding butt on some slopes. I went and bought my snowboarding boots - a pair of peppermint-coloured Thirty Two's which are, in my opinion, the snowboarding equivalent of a pair of Jimmy Choo's but make my feet feel like they're being pushed through a meat mincer. Apparently fashion, and snowboarding, is pain. So with new boots in tow and my neighbour's old snowboard under one arm, I went up the mountain yesterday for my first ride of the season. Having been six years since I was last on the slopes, I greatly underestimated how much I remembered of how to snowboard. I spent most of my first run down the hill on my ass and at one point, jarred my thumb so that it bruised up to the size of a small sausage. By my third run, I had re-mastered the act of balancing but I've got a long way to go before I'll be boarding alongside Shawn White.

But the most exciting news is that, after getting the go-ahead from BUNAC, I should be making my way back across the border for Appel Farm 2011.

I've got my apple, you've got your apple...

Ciao for now. xo