A brief interlude

(Picture: View from the Ptarmigan into the Village Centre)

Onset of Cabin Fever
It is getting toward mid-season here on the mountain and we’re starting to see the first signs of cabin fever exerting itself. It’s more than just people being narky with each other – heck, everybody has a bad day now and then. No, cabin fever is more sinister than that. Cabin fever slowly insinuates itself into the very social fabric of a community. It starts with little things that you initially write off, and then slowly builds into something more.

Up here at Big White the community really isn’t that big. After being here a while you meet a few friends of friends and before you know it half the bar is waving at you when you walk through the door (a slight but not gross exaggeration). But after 2-months of smiling at people who you’ve exchanged maybe 5 coherent words with it starts to become repetitive: the same people, at the same place, with the same vibe. It starts to wear thin. It even starts to grate. Added to which, you’re in a completely artificial environment. You’re cut off from the rest of the real world with only a few places to go and the a few diversions to keep you entertained.

Doesn’t seem like much? Well I can feel it building. I can see it in their eyes – a slightly crazed, slightly dazed look. It’s in the increasing bitchiness of people, the shorter wicks and the completely irrational outbursts. Some people are combating it by moving on, to other mountains and other climes. Others are trying to drive themselves into alcohol induced oblivion. Partying hard, blowing their cash and then wondering why nothing is making much sense.

For myself? I think a bit of a break, some quiet time, is in order. I’ve been saying it for a while, but it is reaching critical mass now: I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain from getting some distance and reprioritizing. I wonder what other opportunities are out there right now?


Kill for a coffee
Tonight, sitting here and writing, I have this craving for a good coffee. I’m imagining something that hasn’t been percolated, something with real beans and real taste, something that isn’t all milk. Which is funny, because I don’t think I’ve ever really considered myself a coffee drinker.

Since I’ve arrived here all I’ve seen are the neons of Starbucks and Tim Hortons – the big chains with their over-manufactured beans and over-sugared caffeine fixes. I miss the Sydney selection of Toby’s Estate, Vittoria and La Vazza. It seems so long ago that I could just pop around the corner and pick up a good cappuccino, one and a half sugars, not too much froth. Does that make me a coffee snob? Is it a side-effect of over-sugared chocolate?

I guess I might have to resort to Beano’s in the Village Centre. Wait a second, isn’t Tim from down the corridor the barrista there?