Wordless Wednesday: Snow castle edition

Wordless Wednesday: Arosa edition

Wordless Wednesday: Arosa Edition

Breathe

I can always breathe in Arosa. After the car ride during which The Boychen refused to sleep even though we purposely left at his nap-time, after the last 40 minutes when Small Boy’s admirable patience finally deserted him and he began asking “How much longer?” every five minutes and then arguing with us over the reply, after the mad dash to the sport store for helmets and sleds five minutes before closing, after the unpacking, I can breathe. A person can breathe up there, can breathe in big lungfuls of snow and sky, can breathe in this:

Yes, a person can breathe up there.

Re-charging

I’ve been neglecting my blog terribly; I’m in the February doldrums. By this time of year, I’ve had it with winter in this part of Switzerland: the fog, the grey skies, the dirty melted snow, the brown fields. We’re off to the mountains for a week to recharge. Hopefully I’ll come back with stories, and the energy to tell them.

The last morning of vacation

From my journal, dated Saturday the fifth:

“Last night I tasted winter in the air, winter sneaking in over the mountains like a girl sneaking in past curfew on tip-tap toes. This morning there is snow on the high peaks. The locals – our hiking guide Hans, the hotel owner Walter – smile, says it’s not really snow, just Zuckerpulver (powdered sugar) and it will be gone by afternoon. They are right, of course, on both counts, but it is there all the same. Winter: sending a post card from her summer vacation, telling us it was nice and now she is on her way home.”

Yoga! Hiking! Mountains!

I’ve just registered for my yoga retreat in Arosa; it’s at the start of September and I can’t wait!

Moments

I’ve been coming to Arosa for over a decade now, and rarely have I seen so much snow. The curve between the road and the Obersee (upper lake) where there is often a snow sculpture was covered by a child’s mountain of plowed-away snow.

Small Boy climbed it again and again, each time barreling back down hill on his sit-sled. I’ve seen hints of it before, but this trip confirmed it: the boy is a speed demon, fearless on sled or Bob or, it would appear, skis.

* * *

A man stands on a hotel roof shovelling great mounds of snow down onto the sidewalk below; it lands with a muffled thud that recalls the sound of avalanche cannons going off in the distance. Snow sprays in every direction when the larger blocks crash into the sidewalk. In all my years of coming to Arosa, I have never seen this.

* * *

Our first days are grey, clouded over. The mountains come and go like ghost ships.

* * *

I drink deep draughts of mountain air. My cheeks tingle. It is good to be here.

A taste of Arosa

I keep forgetting that vacation with two small boys is more properly termed a “change of scenery” or a “break in the routine” than a “restful vacation.” I am exhausted from trying to keep up with those two. I mean, with this

this

and this

going on, who could rest?

More words and pictures soon.

Arosa

It occurs to me that I didn’t post any pictures of the actual town of Arosa. I didn’t take that many. I had intended to do it Friday and Satruday, but on Friday the weather was awful and on Saturday a combination of bad weather and two sick sons sent us home early. So I do not have many pictures of the village from this trip, but here are a few.

The train from Chur to Arosa (here in front of the Litzirüti train station):

Looking down the road from in front of my hotel:

Looking up from the Obersee (my new favorite view of Arosa):

Arosa from across the valley:

Not nearly as many pictures as I wanted to take, but I know there will be many more trips to Arosa to come. It’s good knowing that.