The alarm goes off at four in the morning. Just a few hours ago we went to sleep, and a few minutes before that we were at the baggage claim after a nearly five-hour flight. We flew from New York to San Jose, the little town in California where my dearest friend lives.

Together with her, her husband, and mine, I voluntarily set the alarm so early to half sleepwalk into the car. Final destination? Heavenly, the village of Lake Tahoe where we are going to ski for a few days. The men are sitting in the front and we are in the back. Slowly I doze off and wake up, completely crumpled and dented, in the snow. The vacation has begun!

The cabin is not ready for us yet, but the slopes certainly are. Down at the chairlift and from the trunk, we change our clothes. I pull on my ski pants, thermal underwear, fleece sweater, and quickly buy a new pair of ski goggles. Before I know it, we are at the top of the mountain. Okay, this was four years ago. They say it's just like riding a bike, but up there at the ‘double black diamond’/mountain in the snow, I feel the nerves rising. I tell myself not to whine. I push off and go. Still a bit like an uncontrolled wild puppy racing down the stairs for the first time, but I make it down without a scratch. There. That went well.

The day the whiny mountain became the whiny mountain. That was on the second day of the vacation. Yesterday, it was me who was yelling and gasping for snow with the last descent of the day. The mountain has bumps, is icy, is horror-style, but we always have to take it last to get home. Well, you can also take the lift down, but that's for wimps. Taking the lift down is not for damn enthusiastic skiers who are already on the slopes at eight in the morning and prefer to tour through the deep snow between the trees. So the whiny mountain always has to be skied down. But well, it was me yesterday; now it's my dearest friend who is going down while whining. She yells and curses. But she doesn't do that when I'm skiing hard all over the slope. No, she keeps it polite: she softly curses inside and holds back the tears. Exactly those tears that were rolling down my cheeks like a three-year-old yesterday. Back then, it was already the whiny mountain, but today it is officially so. The mountain that is too steep for tired muscles and wobbling knees. Luckily, we could laugh about it afterward. With a beer, that at least.

Every day during this vacation (except for that one moment on the whiny mountain) seems more beautiful and fairy-tale-like than the day before. Skiing between Nevada and California, we take hidden paths and have views as if we have sneaked into a painting. We even see a rainbow! Wow, Lake Tahoe, how beautiful you are.

’In the evenings at the house, we cook dinner and have breakfast every morning at the same table, but besides that, we definitely go out to eat in the town. In the morning, I spot a white wolf. Until he suddenly starts barking at me. So no wild animals seen. This part of America is known for the bears, but the roaring brown creatures are currently sleeping. Probably for the best, although I still hope for a wild animal in sight. But oh well. After a hellish flight from Reno through the night, we are home again. Our bear, who doesn't hibernate, is waiting for us. He is happy that we are home, and so am I. But secretly, I would like to go back for a bit. Tahoe, how beautiful you were.