Sledding in Switzerland
What does sledding have in common with integration?
"Do you want to go sledding Friday evening to Bergün? It is the longest route in Switzerland."
Why did he ask this stuff? Thirty years ago, I didn’t know where Bergün was and I had never seen a sled. I once whisked down a 50-meter hill on 10 cm of snow on lunch trays we stole from the cafeteria. It was so much fun. Does that count?
He continued, "We can go to STEG, FL but it is short and we have to climb up to the top each time we want to go down, but there are stairs. In Bergün we can take the train."
No climbing – Sold! That explains my stupid reply, "Why not."
The train winded through hundred-year-old viaducts and tunnels. -The snow-covered forest against the night sky enchanted me.
"We could have gone to Fideris Heuberg, my husband continued, but that's where with the bus my brother was riding in, went over the edge. But that can’t happen here. They built wooden walls around the dangerous curves."
Huh? Dangerous? He never mentioned that until now.
"Last Stop - Ausstiegen" interrupted my panic, temporarily.
We rented two "Davoser Sleds". Don't you know what that is? Neither did I. Simply put it’s a seat made from the hardest wood ever found, on slides. No cushions, no steering wheel, and no brake.
We walked a few meters. My husband sat on the wooden board, one leg left of the sled, one leg to the right. He said short and determined, "with press your left foot you're go to the right. When you press the right foot you go left. To brake, you need to press both feet at the same time into the snow.
What snow? I only saw the ice.
Before I could ask anything, he took off.
"Where do I go?" I screamed.
"Just follow the road," he said nonchalantly as he raced away.
Fearless (not yet) I took off. I approached the first right turn. I pressed my left foot. Instead of turning right I ran full force into the wall. I fell off the sled but it continued the journey without me. I chased, no I slid after my sled like a skater on an ice rink. Except my chase took place mostly on my bottom. By the time my sled and I were a couple again, my courage escaped me.
What else could I do, I got back on my newest enemy. My heart racing. I was going much too fast. I hit the brakes, with both feet just like he said. Like a prima ballerina, I did multiple pirouettes. Ok, not quite as elegant. Once again, I hit another stupid wall.
Why do Swiss call this masochistic sport, fun? As I pulled myself up again. I contemplated whether to get back on or not, a sled overtook me. Long gray braids flew through the air, her smile graced with wrinkles as deep as the Grand Canyon. I was 27 years old at the time and my youthful pride refused to let a senior citizen overtake me. Hah.
I decided to use my feet as little as possible and raced down the icy road. Somehow I arrived 30 minutes later.
My husband was waiting – again. "Where have you been?"
"I explained my "crash tests" and my allergy to wooden walls."
"Why didn’t you just pick up the front of your sled to slow down?"
Huh? Why didn’t you tell me before I we started?
"Because you just know." The sentence I hate most in the German language. HOW?
Let me offer you a tip. When we want to do something new, unknown, I found a solution. I take a course – taught by a stranger.
But I learned something else. Sledding is a lot like integration. We begin enthusiastically. When we are moving, taking one step after another, it feels amazing. We feel successful. But then we make a wrong move or we hit a wall - wooden or otherwise. We slip, fall and can’t immediately find the way.
A Japanese Proverb says, "Fall seven times, and get up eight times."
That’s the only option. Summon up the courage. Again. Get up and take the next step until you reach your destination. Maybe it won’t happen immediately. But we, the very integrated persons, are here to encourage you and remind you yes you can! And who knows? As you breeze down the mountain and through your integration journey, you might realize; you did it, and it's was fun. Not just sledding, but building your life here “bi us” (with us).
I love this word of advice from Valerie Burton.
"If you are thrown at the wall of resistance, you can become a tennis ball or an egg."
Let’s all be tennis balls!
© Copyright Vicki Gabathuler 2017