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.