The Chinese Learn to Ski

On a recent Saturday, we took a day trip with our friend Maggie to Nanshan Ski Village, a ski area about an hour outside of Beijing.

Like many Chinese things, Nanshan snow was jia de -- or fake -- and as we drove up to the village, a large white mountain seemed to appear out of nowhere in a landscape of brown-colored hills. We lucked out with the weather, though, and it was a sunny day with only light pollution.

Brown, brown hills ... and then a snowy peak! 

Since the rise of the middle class here is a recent phenomenon, the sport of skiing is somewhat new. As such, the resort included rentals of skis, boots and poles in lift ticket prices (which were cheap, around $50 a person for the day) and also rented out parkas, snow pants, goggles and gloves. Large speakers barked out skiing etiquette throughout the day: look up and down the hill before you start to ski. The skier who is already skiing has the right of way. Hold your poles in one hand while getting on the chairlift. If you need to stop, don't do it in the middle of the slope. Unfortunately, not a lot of these rules were followed and Scott and I quickly learned that you needed to ski defensively to avoid one of the many, many wipeouts we saw throughout the day.

The newness of skiing also means there's not a lot of education on how to take care of equipment. Many Chinese dropped their skis onto the concrete terraces or would drag them along the sidewalks instead of carrying them over their shoulders or like a pile of firewood. I cringed watching this, but it also explained why the edges of my ski rentals were so completely shot.

Fences helped make sure newbies stayed on the trail.

It also means the rental system is a bit Darwinistic; when I rented my skis, boots and poles the man behind the counter simply punched 1-1-1 in the system -- no barcode, no number, no "Alyssa" taped across them like they do at resorts in the U.S. The bindings on the skis weren't tight since they're rentals, so it was easy to click the binding backward for a larger-sized ski boot. This haphazard system makes ski pilfering -- or honest mix-ups when people sit down for lunch -- a common occurrence. And of course that leads to a revolving door of snatched skis, with everyone, hopefully, ending up with a pair at the end of the day.

Skiers use air hoses to wipe off snow at the end of the day. Pretty brilliant!

Nanshan primarily had beginner slopes, but there were enough blues and one black diamond to keep us entertained. The fake snow was a bit slippery and got icy quickly, but most of the people at the resort didn't seem to mind.

My favorite part of the day was people watching and seeing that already, Chinese skiers have plenty in common with U.S. skiers. There were "ski bunnies" dressed in tight neon snowsuits, more worried about whether a piece of hair was out of place than if they got down the slope. There were little kids whining and parents leaning over them, backaches in the making, trying to teach their kids how to wedge with ski tips. And there were snowboarders clogging up the exit from the chairlifts, sitting at the beginning of the trail as they strapped into their boards, oblivious to others who maneuvered around them. Some things really are, as the Chinese say, yi yang de, or the same.