Shigakogen (2 of 2)

(Part 2 of 2) Rejoice! Freedom! Escape from a life of setting, serving, clearing, and cleaning 200+ tables twice a day amongst smoke-tinged Swiss jodelling music in a faceless black apron and zipper tie, drowning in incompetence. Kiss the snow. Hug the thin, dry smiling wind that drives from the west.

I began work with the ski patrol the following day. A typical work day consisted of an initial sweep of the mountain to ensure that no dangerous spots were unmarked, and all previously marked areas were still visibly taped off or matted. What a joy to work on skis. Throughout the day we would make a handful of patrols, which were more or less similar in principle to this initial sweep. In the meantime, I would sit in the patrol office with whoever wasn't off on a job, answering phones, manning the information/emergency window, or studying the textbook on emergency procedures. Although the majority of the time was sitting in the office, I did get to be on the slope for 3 or 4 hours a day.



I really didn't see many emergencies during my two weeks there. People would trickle in everyday or so with an injury, and once or twice we had to remove someone from the mountain due to a debilitating injury. But we would just send them to the clinic that was down the mountain. And on the occasion that the "real" patrolmen treated an injury, I couldn't really help. The one exception happened about a week into the job. I was hastened from the patrol office down the stairs from the skiers restaurant to find a one-year old baby and her mother with blood gushing from the baby's nose. They had brought me because the family was from Australia and couldn't speak any Japanese. The baby had fallen down the stairs and had hit its face on the step, and because of all the blood the mother was afraid the baby had broken its nose. Through my broken Japanese, I tried to help communicate the other patrolman's commands. I accompanied the baby on snowmobile to the nearby clinic, to find that the nose was ok but it was the 3 cm cut under the nose that was the cause of the blood. After 2 stitches the Australian family called it a day and left for their hotel.

Although the majority of the time was sitting in the office, the other patrolmen and other workers were intensely amusing, friendly, and accomodating. The patrol was split into two main areas, and so I became close with the three others with which I worked everyday. Tamura, the head patrolman, insisted that when called over the walkie-talkie I answer him with "yes sir, boss sir" much to the hilarity of the rest of the walkie-talkie carrying patrol. On my first day, when in the company of another ski patroller named Yusuke , everyone without fail would announce that Yusuke was stupid and that I shouldn't listen to his Japanese so as not to pick up any vulgar speech habits. And Ryuji is the most personable, warm, friendly person I've met since coming to Japan. He is the type of person that people respect because of his loving care for fellow human beings. I'll never forget anyone I met during my two weeks there, but especially I won't forget Ryuji for his humanness.

The majority of other people working on the slope were roughly from 21 to 28 years old. All were snowboarders and most were from Nagano prefecture, although there were some from the Nagoya area, Tokyo, Kobe area, and Kyoto, among other places. And then there was the older women from Aomori Prefecture who worked in the cafeteria. With their stooped walk, wrinkly smiles, and warm yet unintelligable greetings they made the cafeteria shine with tenderness. Although I could never understand what they would say due to the differing dialects/accents, they always gave the impression of surprised pleasure whenever I sat down to eat.


I was lucky enough to take part in a few training scenarios with the other patrolmen.


Noguchi-san and me.






A goodbye party was held on the last night.

Shigakogen (1 of 2)

I just arrived back in Kyoto after a three week winter break in Shigakogen, which sits in the northeastern corner of Nagano prefecture. I'll try to make the recapitulation short. Before I had any concrete plans for the break, I knew I wanted to spend it skiing somewhere. This, I soon realized, would be an enormously expensive vacation if I simply spent my time skiing, and an enormously lonely vacation if I did it alone. So, I asked around to see if anyone wanted to join me, and thankfully I found that my friend Alan had similar plans. Thus, we began formulating ideas about how to go about skiing in the most cost-effective manner.

It turned out that Alan's ex-hostmother from Tokyo often spends time in Shigakogen, and she kindly offered to write us a recommendation for a position at the Swiss Inn, the hotel that she frequents. It was this connection that got things moving, and ultimately we were offered jobs that included a place to stay, meals, and free ski tickets.

Alan left a few days before I did, as I had a Christmas party to attend. By a 9-hr overnight bus, I arrived at the Swiss Inn of Shigakogen on Christmas Eve morning and had the day to take in the hotel and the immediate surroundings. At first glance, things didn't seem overly unbearable. We were given a relatively large room to stay in, although it was thoroughly soaked in years of cigarette smoke (thank you Febreze), and our employers were very friendly. From his two-day work experience, Alan helped me get accustomed to the environment.

However, over the course of 5 days, the real work environment was revealed to us. I don't want to harp on it too much, but just to give you an idea of what the life was like I'll add some detail. With the exception of Christmas Eve and Christmas day when Christmas music was piped through the entire hotel including our room (which we weren't able to turn down or off), Swiss jodelling music would permeate every nook and cranny of our day. Afterall, it is the Swiss Inn, but you'd be amazed at what one can get used to. The staff would smoke throughout the day, around the prepared food, and even while preparing food. And when you've worked for hours without a break, while the majority of the staff are sitting around smoking and talking, it gets on one's nerves. But it wasn't the discrepancy of work. Perhaps it was the work hours which started at a meager 9.5 hours and by the 4th day had reached 13 hours, and would have most likely increased had we not taken emergency actions.

On my third day there, after the morning's 6 hours of work, Alan and I decided to take advantage of the free ski tickets (which turned out to only be valid for 2 lifts). By this time, I had almost already reached my breaking point from the work, so I had begun to think about alternate options. Ski rescue, avalanche rescue, and the related emergency mountain-related procedures came to mind. Thus, I decided to take this opportunity out of Swiss Inn to visit the Shigakogen ski patrol office to enquire about possible classes. I knocked on the patrol office and was confronted by two patrol officers, and through my broken Japanese, I related my aforementioned interests. They looked startled and confused and pointed me into the administrative office. This time to a higher official, I once again tried to explain my interest in these classes, only to hear that there were no such courses offered in the entire area. I was crestfallen. But, to my surprise, right there and then I was offered a job on the ski patrol, without a single question about my skiing ability. I didn't really know if I should accept it or not since I didn't want to abandon Alan, and at that time I still had a feeling of obligation toward the Swiss Inn. But as things went from bad to horrible at the hotel, I finally decided to take the job. And by that point, the previously hesitant Alan had also been convinced of the impossibility to continue the work at the Swiss Inn. Our last day at the hotel, I brought Alan to see the patrol and they also offered him a job, as a liftman. With everything in place for a clean departure, we packed our bags and walked out the door of the Swiss Inn into the sun-blanketed field of white snow leading to the dorm of our next employer...

(1 of 2)