San Francisco Through The Eyes Of A Rockstar (Part 4 Continued – Lake Tahoe And The Olympic Village)

To a spectacular backdrop of pristine white mountain and snow-dusted trees, the Rockstar zips, glides and gets dragged about by his parents on a bright orange toboggan bought from Save Mart in Tahoe City for about USD 15.

Just as nature intended.

On my iPhone, I record Kings dragging his son about – Rockstar will be watching the footage over and over when Kings hits the ground running with his new job in 2011.

When Kings is working, sometimes we don’t talk or enjoy more than a couple hours’ family time each week (or less). I really want Rockstar to remember family time – when dad isn’t constantly on the phone or blackberry…

We spot just 2 other toboggans among the hundreds of skis and snowboards – those are after all Olympic class slopes – but I still feel so fly in snow gear parking my wussy plastic tray among everyone’s professional looking skis and poles.

The girl in the resort green jacket is from Brisbane, Australia – she and her boyfriend (not in pic, he was stationed way up at the top of the slope) are working here for 3 months before they resume university back home

After tubing solo because Kings is in jeans (the tubes are seriously wet and the only waterproof pants he liked at North Face cost about USD 300) and Rockstar is allowed up only if he sits in a tube on his own (because it’s too small to fit 1 1/2 people safely)… Kings valiantly mushed the Rockstar back down the hill and snapped this before we left to get the toboggan

We stop for pictures at Lake Tahoe.

Those postcard and calendar scenery pictures will never look the same again. Suddenly they’re erm, more real to me. Now I understand why someone who heard we were coming up here said “It’s God’s country.” All the beautiful things He made. Not the higgledy-piggledy high rises “we” made.

The sunlight is really bright, and we arrive in time to see an older boy of about 10 just wrapping up diving into a snowman for his mum’s camera.

Footprints (in the sand – the imagery of when there are only one set of footprints it’s when God is carrying you) comes to mind.

My first snow angel. I am no longer a snow angel virgin <gasp>

Red border collie floating above the snow which is shoulder-deep for the dog.

I miss JD

And back to Olympic Village. There are many dogs here, play-biting each other outside Starbucks, digging in the snow drifts, catching snowballs – none of them are wearing anything in all that snow (except one lone white Maltese in a thin green jacket).

I remember Dog One Life and countless other stores all over Hong Kong (especially in Causeway Bay) that sell doggie clothing. I always knew some of that was for fashion, but I also thought some of the skinny little ones wearing quilted hoodies with – get this – fake fur trim, really felt the cold.

No wonder so many Westerners we meet think the tricked out Hannah Montana dogs of Hong Kong are just nuts.

The dogs might be au naturel, but many humans are in bright snow gear

Some of the kids in particular look so awesome. I like observing the older boys (harboring secret hope Rockstar grows into one of the strapping 6-8 year olds clomping about in ski boots toting poles or boards). I note some of the shoulder-length wavy blonde locks peeking out from under safety helmets or brightly colored “jester” and “mohawk” snow caps with a tiny hint of envy – I tried that one, much to Kings’ dismay, but Rockstar has stick-straight hair that refuses to be brushed out of his eyes.

(He wants to wear this cap all the time when it’s cold. With the Adidas logo just so.)

Replete from a busy day of cafeteria tray-sitting and snowball-throwing, Rockstar passes out without a peep…

Everyone should drag their child around on a toboggan.

(Though we have seriously keep an eye out for all the skiers and snowboarders of all sizes swooping by at warp speed)

Next morning, we take a cable car up to one of the mountain cafes for brunch…

(Why’m I not surprised the only “act cute” hat we see in the whole place (left – it’s a lamb hat trimmed with red ribbon and pockets at the ends of the long ear covers) is worn by one of the relatively few Asians we see during our stay here?)

Up, up we go…

Someone groans at the (thankfully brief) pitching as the cable car swoops and jerks…

It’s about 8,000 feet up…

As we alight from the cable car, a lone dad catches my eye – he has a snow board under one arm and a toddler younger than Rockstar under the other.

Not just is the cafe bathed in strong sunlight, it’s very warm, and even after peeling off some layers we feel hot. (We soon realize why – right outside when we try to take some photos, it’s windy and very cold)

Strange meal and an awesome view – plain tofu drizzled with some sweet and sour sauce, whipped potato, veggies, hard boiled eggs (currently one of Rockstar’s staples), fortune cookies, baked potato.

Kings pops a whole fortune cookie in his mouth and crunches. Belatedly he tries to retrieve the paper inside, to my “I thought fortune cookies in Ang Moh places have actual fortunes in them?”

He will never know what his fortune was. Rockstar greatly benefits though – there are some kind of “lucky numbers” on the back of each slip of paper and he reads them with interest. I totally milk it – it’s the first time he reads double digit numbers greater than 20 – 26, 43, 37…

At the next table, a dad with a long shaggy beard and 2 kids several years older (there are lots and lots of >5 year olds everywhere – next to Squaw Valley is the Papoose with all kinds of winter sports workshops for children) smiles indulgently as Rockstar gabbles off numbers.

Fortune Reading Rockstar

Kings gets a second helping of fortune cookies and I save all the papers for Rockstar to revies. Whatever works, baby.

Then back down, down we go.

To snowballs and toboggans.