I am channeling Bridget Jones Chilean style.

I’ve had this past week off basically from work… due to the Independence Day that took place last Sat., but hey I’m not complaining. I decided would take myself skiing on my long holiday. I figured I could see a different side of Punta Arenas, and check out what this town really has to offer. I didn’t see the need to plan for my expedition because I can basically see the slopes from my house. Tuesday morning I woke up, ate some bread with marmalade without the butter …since I’m on a diet now and all.

With my belly full I got on my way. I hailed a cab uneventfully. Handed him a receipt with the name of the resort written on it (I really didn’t want to end up visiting the penguins instead of skiing because I threw in an extra –s or actually pronounced a word how it is spelled).

The ride up the mountain was quite beautiful, the city was behind me and I had nothing but blue skies in front of me.

As we approached the resort my first reaction was to internally celebrate the fact I got into a cab and arrived at the correct destination. Well, after the confetti cleared I looked up to realize the ski lift was NOT running. Alright, I’ve come to find the best way to handle these types of situations is by not freaking out and yelling English in the nearest Chileans face. So, instead I started speaking really fast spanglish to the cab driver, he just motioned for me to get out of the cab. Well, I figured I made it this far and walking down the mountain wouldn’t hurt (considering I’m not actually on a diet).

I walk in the ski rental office and through broken English and my Spanish incapability I relay, I want a lift ticket AND skis. It was a process and lot of motioning but we figured each other out. Finally, when they get my receipt written up and I have my lift ticket securely fastened on I notice the lift still isn’t running. The guys in the office follow what I’m looking at flip a switch, which in turn sends the chair lifts running up and down the mountain. It’s in this moment that I realize I am literally the ONLY person skiing on this mountain today.

I step out of the office geared down and head towards the chair lift, where you guessed it... there are no lines better yet there are no people. I position myself and take the lift to the top. Usually, from the limited amount of times I have gotten to ski I found there to be a meandering green (easy) trail off to the side of the mountain. I made it to the top got off and realized there were no signs there were no green, blue or black dots just signs with Chilean slang written on them.

Again, I say to myself, “okay Merrette you got all the way up here now all you gotta do is ski down”. I don’t know why I expected a Chilean ski resort to be any different than any other Chilean experience I’ve had thus far... why would there be signs detailing where the trails begin… that makes way to much sense. So, without further adieu I take off for what looked like the easiest course possible. I meander along for a while and then begin to notice that my trail is ending. Due to the fact that there’s a forest in front of me and no more snow on the ground. I start trying to think through my options here, either ski through the vegetation or hike back up the hill. Well, let’s be real here nobodies skiing through trees so I hoofed it back up that lovely meandering trail that wasn’t so meandering or lovely in up hill in ski boots.

30 minutes later I found myself back at the top of the mountain. Well, I got this far all I gotta do is go back down.

So, I take off thinking I just hiked up a snow covered mountain with skis on my back… I can make it down this small/biggish hill/mountain… and make it down I did, only it wasn’t in my skis or with my polls. But fortunately, I didn’t fall down the whole mountain… just in-front of the lodge where the five people who were visiting or working happened to be lounging. I lay there in the snow tangled up in the orange caution tape and started seriously thinking about turning in my skis and heading down this mountain for good. But, then I look up and a semi-toothless paramedic is standing over me yelling Spanish, Esta bien Senorita! I realized I had been laying in the snow for a good four minutes and this Chilean toothless paramedic had reason to worry. So, I quickly jumped up put my skis on and headed in the opposite direction as the paramedic …which happened to be the towards the chair lift. Whatever, I paid the money I’m here I might as well go down the mountain at least twice, and the view waaaaas pretty spectacular.

I made it back up the mountain still determined to find my meandering trail… and low and behold I found one. I was able to look out on to the Andes snow covered mountains, Punta Arenas, Tierre Del Fuego, the Pacific Ocean and the straight of Magallanas. I passed two men in a snow plow truck, gave them a friendly wave… finally I was skiing in Chile… it was amazing. Then I started to realize that there wasn’t any meandering trail left... again... in fact there wasn’t anything left except a highway sign telling me Punta Arenas to the left and the Ski lodge to the right… and then I realized… I had managed to ski to the highway. Somehow or another on I had meandered off the ski resort trail and ended up on the highway.

Again, I am faced with one of two options. Either go back up the mountain (again) or walk along the road until I arrived back to the ski lodge. Well, my dignity at this point had all it could take, so I decide to walk back up the mountain. I didn’t think I could handle for the five people in the ski lodge to watch me walk up from the road after I had just wrapped my body in the orange caution tape directly in-front of them. As I’m walking up the mountain (again) I run into the snow plow guys, who apparently knew I was skiing in the wrong direction when I gave them that friendly wave previously. This sleeveless Chilean man climbs out of the cab of the plow truck takes my skis from me, then my polls and lastly practically picks me up and puts me in the truck. As usual when I am in a any type of moving vehicle with a Chilean he/she starts explaining how I got so lost… I am just nodding and throw in a loco gringa before my sipo. Finally we pull up to the top of the mountain. The sleeveless Chilean points at me and says muy facil Mary (that’s my name down here, Merrette just doesn’t exist). He then proceeds to take my skis out, point them directly in the front of the Bunny Slope, stick my polls in the ground beside them and lastly basically places my ski boots into my skis for me… these Chileans. He gives me a wave, climbs back into his trusty stead and heads into the sunset.

At this point the entire Ski Resort (all five of them) are swapping stories of where THEY found the gringa girl. I continue to ski since I now knew exactly how to the find the “intermedia” slope.
I ski down the mountain and around 2:00 and proceed into the ski lodge… not completely sure I will be returning the ski lift anymore that day… or any other day in the future.

I have a hot chocolate and a chat with the paramedic from earlier in the afternoon, watch the snow falling and eventually decide… I did make it up here I should ski at least one more hour.
So, I take the lift to the top only to find the paramedic Louis waiting on me. He has decided the gringa needs a partner, which at this point I can’t argue with. He shows me a new trails, and not a meandering ones mind you. But before we can go down the slope he pulls out his phone asks me if I’m single and for my telephone number. Well, semi-toothless 70 year old man (I am thinking), "I don’t have a phone and I am not single". This news does not deter him, more than likely I told him I would love to run away and get married to him immediately... who knows.

Again, I make an attempt to head down the slope and he says, “wait Mary... musica” and he beings playing Enya, “who can say that that your loves gone…” on his telephone… and then we begin skiing to Enya (the singer) looking out over the city of Punta Arenas, the ocean and Tierre Del Fuego.

We continue skiing for a few more hours, there an no more falls to report or meandering trails leading to a highway… finally I got to do what I headed up that mountain for.

I hope this puts a smile on your face, because I still find myself chuckling over my Chilean ski adventure.