After nearly an hour’s walk, I finally got myself a cup of tea at a cafe built in a traditional Norwegian style. It’s a favourite spot for skiing enthusiasts, who usually come in for a cup of coffee and homemade soup after a couple of hours’ cross-country skiing.
I’d been thinking of visiting this cafe for a while now. The fact that it wasn’t reachable by cars or any other transport meant that I would have to walk the four kilometers’ long skiing slope to reach the destination and then walk the same length back.
The weather was beautiful. The sun was shining through the branches of pine trees and falling gently down on the newly-fallen snow.
Being the only one to walk up the skiing slope was a weird experience. I came across people from different age groups rushing up and down. Their movements looked smooth and professional. Some children were exceptionally good at going uphills. Not a move was wasted. I was conscious not to block the path.
Going skiing is a form of art and gives a sense of elegance of beauty we find in ballet. Flying through the mountains is such a liberating feeling. No boundaries, no fear.
The cafe was almost full when I took my seat. People came in for a break, enjoying hot creamy soup with beef and root vegetables. Lively conversations could be heard. The mood was good and the spirit high. Pairs of skies were resting outside the cafe.
I was like an outsider, observing the people around me and enjoying the warm atmosphere. I was fine with that. I pulled out the half-finished book from my tote bag. At least two hours till the sun goes down. Life is pleasant.