The morning sun is peeking out of the fog as our airplane wheels screech across the Santiago airport tarmac. The weather looks a little dismal, but hopes are high that the mountains are peeking above the city’s bad weather.

I grab all of my stuff that I seem to have spread out between the two seats I snagged as the last person to get on the plane once again. I have this down to a T by now, although I was beat to a row of four empty seats which bothered me slightly. Anyway, the flight attendant had finally opened the door, and I follow the rest of the anxious and groggy passengers out into the hall to follow "aduana" signs.

Upon arriving at the customs officer I pull out my passport and hand him it while scrounging to find my declaration form. He asks me the normal questions like "what are doing in Chile?" and "How long are staying" and I give the routine answer I am here with my ski team for two weeks, I am going to Portillo, yada yada yada. I expect to just move on like always, but much to my chagrin, he doesn’t stop there. No, instead he asks me for my return ticket and how much money I have and this and that, wah wah wah. At this point, I’m thinking things are beginning to get a little bit ridiculous. “Is there some kind of problem here, sir?” I ask.

He returns my question with a baffled look and in this thick Spanish accent replies, “I have to get my boss.”

What the heck did I do now? At this point though, my head starts to clear after such a long flight and I realize he is probably upset that there is no more room to stamp my passport. Oh shit.

He returns with his boss and informs me that the only way I am going to get into his country is to promise I will go to the US embassy and get more pages. The thought of trekking through Santiago to the embassy was not exactly very inviting, so rather than give in and give up, I decide it’s time to play … yep, you guessed it, a little thing called… ignorant tourist!

I tell him how sorry I am for not having taken care of it in the first place, but that I have been traveling all over the place and just didn’t have time. And also, that the new Passport laws in the US have been backing up the passport agencies and there are too many risks in not getting my passport back in time. “Really sir, I am just going with my team straight to Portillo and straight back to the airport!” I pleaded. Then finally, with much reluctance he decides to give in and allow me to enter his beautiful country and gives me the stern warning: “Ms. Mancuso, you are not to return to Chile without more pages in your passport, that’s a promise.”

Well, let me tell you Mr. Customs officer, I don’t want to come back anyway, so huh!… Well in the heat of the moment that is what I thought anyway.

I get over it and grab my gear, which in this case is a small bag on rollers that I could have carried on but decided to check. Going from New Zealand to Chile I shipped most of my equipment, so if you saw me walk out of customs in my skirt, flip flops, and roller bag, I am sure the last thing you would think is that I was going skiing. I mean, you’d think I was going to Hawaii or something tropical, not CHILE!

Upon meeting my team, my hypothesis was confirmed and I receive many comments on my choice of clothing and lack of luggage. Well lucky for me I’m the last to arrive, so we straight to the bus we go and up to our majestic 10,000 ft training base camp of Portillo we climb.

What an amazing place, Chile

Fearing that I would never get out of the city’s smog, we finally rise above it and the road opens up to a stunning view of the highest peak south of the equator: Aconcagua. The sky is a stunning blue, and as I scan the surroundings I spot the dreaded switchbacks ahead. It’s time to sit down and focus on the little bits of breakfast resting peacefully in my stomach. We slowly climb up and up until finally the yellow hotel pops out at me. The road is full of semi trucks delivering goods to Argentina and vice versa.

An impulsive and devilish thought enters my head, “man, would I LOVE to check out Mendoza a few hours into Argentina!” But I remember that immigration officer’s words, “Ms. Mancuso, you are not to return to Chile without more pages in your passport, that’s a promise,” and I realize that maybe not getting back into Chile if I cross that border is NOT AN OPTION! So I suppress the impulse and eat a cup of yogurt.

It’s still early as we pull up to the hotel and file out of the bus to go check in. The lobby is in a frenzy as guests from last week are checking out before heading up the mountain to get a few more runs on the slope. My room won’t be ready until 2… “wow!” I’m thinking, “that’s in 5 hours!” Ohhh well, what are you gonna do?

I head upstairs to see if I can sneak in some breakfast. No dice, it’s closed. I settle for some more yogurt. I search around a bit and find a very comfy looking couch and decide to take a little nap. Last night’s flight is starting to really wear me out and I am feeling my eyes get heavier and heavier.

It seems like every time I travel the hours go by so slow. I keep getting up to check the time, hoping that it’s at least noon so we can all go eat, but only fifteen minutes pass, then another fifteen and then I just stop and decide to wait for someone to hit me when its time or something. I just can’t think about the time! It is just agonizing and makes everything worse.

I hear Chris Knight come in. He wasn’t on the bus, so I hadn’t seen him yet. I pretend to sleep just a bit longer, then I get up to make the appropriate greeting and catch up with the time since we’ve seen each other, which happened to be a couple of weeks ago in New Zealand. All of this happens right at about noon, so perfectly timed we go sit down in the dining room. I will say one thing, when in Portillo, apart from a few luxuries, this place is far from the normal Chilean experience. The menu is just like I remember from the years before, three specials of the day and a whole a la carte menu with pretty much anything your heart desires to order. I’m talking anything from a steak to spaghetti Bolognese. I go for a green salad and fish, but really just trying to fill myself before desert because I remember the tres leches ice cream from last year and that is all I am craving. Juan brings out my desert and I devour the ice cream in three bites! Although it might not seem like it when I’m sucking down a Tres Leches ice cream, I really do I have lady like manners! Really, I swear!

Alex Hoedlmoser our head speed coach comes in and tells us all we should go out for a couple of runs. At first this seems to be a little bit of a crazy idea, but the more I think about it, it will be nice to get outside for a minute. The sun is still shining nice and bright without a cloud in sight.
My room is ready and I get my key. I get room 808, just like my home area code, Hawaii 808. I find that fitting and find myself dreaming about jumping in the ocean right now.

Wait a minute! Am I a skier?!? Or what???

I open the door to find my closet of a room, and since it is the first door on the right, I realize I will be able to keep tabs on everyone leaving and entering the building. This can actually be a good thing when you are on the road, because you start to become the eyes and ears of everyone, and believe me, there are some things that can get you a free chocolate every once in a while if you keep quiet! HAH! Yeah, there’s another devilish thought…

The Crew

I throw on my ski pants and jacket, and get on my boots and cruise to the chairlift. Kaylin and Caroline meet me there and we just take a few laps. It feels great to be back on snow, and as I feel the cold wind creeping through my hat I feel at peace to be back in winter and I realize.

The familiar feeling of freedom as I glide down the slopes with only gravity keeping me pinned to the ground gives me the rush that I remember from all those days growing up without a worry in the world but going faster! I just want to go as fast as I can, and I know I will never lose that rush and need for speed. As I pitch my skis sideways and look back up at the hill and the mountains towering overhead, I realize…

… this is paradise, and oh yeah, I AM a skier.

Talk soon!
Jules

A WHOLE BUNCH OF PICTURES!

That’s Me!

Me Again…

That’s me… again.

Caroline Lalive

Carolina Ruiz

Me

Lindsey Vonn… Vonn? Yep Lindsey Kildow got married!

That’s me too…