Whistler Wonderland 2009

I have lived in Canada for many years now, and even though this country is known for super long and sometimes, harsh winter conditions, somehow, I have not developed an interest in winter sports.

I blame that in part to the saying, “You cannot teach an old dog new tricks.” After all, this old dog grew up in a tropical country and had not seen snow until she moved to North America for good.

However, I do not completely agree with this saying. I firmly believe that if one in is motivated and determined enough, there is still a chance to learn new things and develop new habits. The only reason why I say it is impossible to teach me new tricks, that is, “winter tricks” in particular, is because I am not exactly the athletic type, I have a poor sense of balance (in my opinion), and I am not a fan of downward motion (because it makes me queasy). If I cannot even tolerate riding the Ferris wheel or the roller coaster, I do not think it would bode well for me to engage in downhill skiing, sledding, snowboarding, skating, and such. I could try snowshoeing or cross-country skiing, but somehow, I never had the chance.

For this reason, I did not feel compelled to visit any ski resorts. When I was new in Vancouver, I was too busy checking out museums, parks, gardens, islands, and cultural attractions. I went to Grouse Mountain a couple of times, but only because it was close enough to the Capilano Suspension Bridge. Usually, when we entertained out-of-town guests, we would take them to both attractions since they are in the same area and but a stone’s throw away from downtown Vancouver.

This is quite ironic because Vancouver has many ski resorts, the most popular of which is the Whistler-Blackcomb Mountain Resort.  I did not get the chance to go there until I was requested to…at work. This was followed by several other visits, with two memorable ones with family.

Whistler 2009

At that time, I was working for an international aviation company whose head office was in Vancouver, but had bases, offices, and affiliate companies in various parts of the globe. Often, we would host pilots, aircraft engineers, base managers, and overseas partners when they would fly in for training sessions, conferences, and other businesses in Canada.

Whenever we had larger delegations for huge events, we would organize outings to Vancouver’s tourist attractions. As the Administrator for the Chief Pilot’s Office back then, I would sometimes be asked to join, although the responsibility primarily laid on the Training Team.

On one such visit, the Training Team organized a trip to Whistler-Blackcomb for some Brazilian, French, Thai, and Nigerian guests one Saturday. I remember receiving an email from the Training Administrator asking me if I could go in her stead because she had an emergency family situation to deal with. She assured me that everything had been arranged – transportation, ticket reservations, meal allowances, and the like – and that all I had to do was show up and be the friendly Vancouver host. The Training Director would be there, but I was free to invite three more colleagues to go with me because she had extra tickets.

I managed to convince two of our in-house Travel Officers. They did not have plans for the weekend and were more than willing to participate. I thought our small welcome party would benefit from their outgoing personalities and linguistic skills (they both spoke more than three languages, including Portuguese and French). She also said I could take my husband along, because the Training Director’s wife was joining us, plus a couple of other executives from the Operations group. But my husband had to work on a project that weekend, so he declined.

In any case, that morning, my colleagues and I found ourselves responsible for a bus load of tourists. I knew most of them because I had been corresponding with them via phone and email for some time already, and I had met some of them the previous days when they were at the office for meetings. But it was our first time to have some personal interaction outside the work environment.

The Training Director distributed the tickets and enroute to Whistler, he briefed all of us on the itinerary – a walk around the village, a cable car ride to the top of one of the mountains, snowshoeing at the summit, lunch, and free time for shopping.

Whistler-Blackcomb Ski Resort, located in the town of Whistler, north of Vancouver, is one of the largest and most popular resorts in North America. Whistler’s central neighbourhood is at the base of the Whistler and Blackcomb Mountains, at the confluence of these two giants, and it features a pedestrian-only Village Centre and Village North collectively referred to as The Village.

There you could find all kinds of accommodation, from five-star hotels to cozy chalets, as well as restaurants, shops, markets, spas, and art galleries, and other attractions. This is also the launching pad for the many adventures the resort has to offer, such as skiing, snowshoeing, hiking, biking, ziplining, and many more fun activities. Around the village, there are lakes, parks, and residential communities.

When we arrived, we led our guests around the streets that are lined with all kinds of retail establishments and eateries, in the same way that kindergarten teachers led their classes. We each adopted a cluster, just like teachers do in school field trips. I was in-charge of a small group of Nigerian and Thai ladies who sat close to me on the bus. I took their photos, gave them recommendations on which stores to visit later, depending on what they were looking for, and answered their questions.

The most popular question I got was, “Are we going to see snow?” I became aware of their excitement when I realized that these ladies had never seen snow in their lives (just like me when I first moved to Canada for good). Since it was technically wintertime, though there was no snow in the mainland, I assured them that there would be snow on the mountains. The response I got was a series of giggles and a very enthusiastic, “Yay!” I felt like a teacher announcing a special treat to her well-behaved students. My colleagues even asked if I made a promise to the ladies that Brad Pitt (the hottest celebrity that time) was waiting for them at the summit because of all the clapping and cheering.

Once we got our bearings (me included, for I, too, was a Whistler newbie), we headed to the gondola station at Skier’s Plaza and took the Whistler Village Gondola, the one that goes up to Whistler Mountain. As we lined up, the ladies in my group became so animated with excitement at the prospect of finally seeing snow.

In the meantime, a friendly banter was going on among the men, so I decided to check with my colleague who was leading a group of Brazilian pilots. Apparently, the Brazilian office Chief Pilot was hesitating to go up and was contemplating on just spending his entire time exploring The Village with his wife.

The other guys were teasing him and placing bets amongst themselves – Was their boss afraid of heights…or afraid of his wife (the real boss, who wanted to go shopping instead)? Their Chief Pilot was known to be a jolly guy with a good sense of humour. He declared that he had always been afraid of both, but that at this time, his fear of heights was the clear winner.

“My wife, I can sweet talk,” he said (and to his wife, he added, “not control, dear, take note”). “The helicopter, I can definitely control. But the cable car? Who the hell runs this thing? I can’t even see who’s in-charge!” he further added. We all laughed.

Someone remarked that there was no reason to be afraid. If something happens, it was only going to be something like a 1,157-meter vertical drop to the ground, or even less, depending on when exactly the cables would snap. Then someone else added that we shouldn’t worry because huge and hungry grizzly bears would be waiting to catch us. More laughter and hollering followed.

Eventually, Mr. Chief Pilot managed to convince his wife (with our help) that there would be plenty of time for shopping later and that they shouldn’t miss this ascent to the mountain.

I shared a gondola with my lady friends, and I was so amused just watching them build their anticipation. From the moment we left the grounds, all of them had their eyes glued on the mountain side watching out for the magical white stuff. As we neared the summit, patches of snow started appearing and as the patches became bigger, they asked in unison, “Is that snow?” And when I said, “Yes,” cheers and more giggles followed.

But the real excitement was at the summit, when they finally got to step on and touch snow for the first time. Someone even asked if it was safe to put in her mouth. “I just want to see how it tastes like,” to which I responded, “Maybe wait for falling snow. That one has already been trudged on by millions of feet.” 

None of us from the welcome party nor the French delegation were skiers, so we decided we were just going to snowshoe. We rented shoes for those interested. Those who were not walked around for a bit, then hit the bar at the nearby building for a round of drinks.

The ladies with me, of course, wanted to maximize their snow time, so I stayed with them while we snowshoed for a bit. I said “a bit” because we did not go very far. We did not even go on a trail. Most of the time was spent on picture-taking on the snowy grounds. In those days, there was no Facebook nor Instagram yet, but from what I remember, those ladies could certainly come up with the most “Instagram-worthy” poses and shots. Their enthusiasm was very contagious, because they even managed to prod me into posing with them, even though I don’t particularly like being in pictures (I prefer taking the photos, not being in them).

After a couple of hours, we rounded up the crew and made our way back to The Village. There was no time to explore the Blackcomb side, but they were all just happy to go back down and have some lunch.

The Training Director told us he already made reservations at Earl’s Kitchen and Bar, a West Coast Canada staple known for their globally-inspired cuisine, which makes it ideal for our varied guests – a menu with an international flair, but with a Canadian touch. Their Whistler location is situated on the busy Village Stroll, right in the heart of the action and absolutely screams, après-ski (or après-bike in the summer; it’s a French term that basically means social activities and entertainment that take place after hitting the slopes).

Though we did not go skiing or biking, the restaurant’s vibe evoked the charm of an alpine chalet and an energetic ambiance with patio seating. The bonus was that this restaurant was one of the few with the earliest, and they say the best and most extensive “Happy Hour” deals.

Over cocktails, beer, burgers, sushi, tacos, and ribs, we got to know each other on a more personal basis, as we discussed topics outside our normal business chats when in the workplace. In such a short time of being together, this group had developed a warm camaraderie and despite coming from different cultural and linguistic backgrounds, we found common grounds in the areas of family, leisure, travel, and shopping.

And speaking of shopping, while some lingered for coffee and dessert, Mr. Chief Pilot and his wife, along with some other ladies, excused themselves early to head to the shops they had been eyeing in the morning. My lady friends assured me they could find their way back to our designated meeting place later that afternoon, so my colleagues and I spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with the gang that stayed behind for a few more drinks.