Following our recent Night at the Museum (see separate blog entry below) and thanks to a bad flu in the family, Mariana and I found ourselves on a long holiday ski weekend that turned into another father-daughter outing. Clearly part of Mariana’s pleasure at this turn of events was the delicious ten-year old thought that she would be getting better on skis while her athletic younger brother Walter perfected his nose-blowing technique at home. As for me, I imagined stylish descents of steep slopes in synchronized slalom, punctuated by meaningful father-daughter conversations while re-ascending grand peaks in luxury chairlifts.
Now for the reality. Do you moms realize how terrifying it is for the average dad (CEOs included) to contemplate that he now must feed, clothe and bathe his adolescent daughter for an entire ski trip? Helpless calls home to ask mom how many layers should daughter wear under her ski pants or whether long hair should be braided or parted under a ski helmet just won’t do.
In the end, the snow was great, the daughter forgiving and the skiing superb. While the image of chairlift discussions gave way to the reality of chilly joke telling, nonetheless the weekend was a great success. Mariana came home an accomplished skier, I went back to work with both ACLs intact, and we both appreciated the other more than before.
One other revelation of the weekend for me was to be reminded of the difference between skiing in the US and in Europe where my family and I lived for the last seven years. At European ski resorts the slopes are very poorly marked; however, the roads leading to the resort (or anywhere else for that matter) are very clearly signposted. In the US, it is exactly the reverse: ski trails so well marked that you and your lawyer could not possibly end up on a “Double Black” run or “off piste” by accident, but roads so poorly marked that you could easily get lost on the Interstate and never find the ski resort in the first place.
I can hardly wait for our next father-daughter outing.