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Margaret's an American woman who's currently living in sunny California, and who works as an engineer in her nation's nuclear power plants. Pretty full-on job, eh? I watch The Simpsons, so I know exactly how gruelling and high-pressure an occupation that can be (mmmm... donuts :P). Margaret's staying here in Kitzbühel — at Snowbunnys — for a few days; and like the rest of us, she's here to carve up the slopes with some skiing, Austrian-style.

It wasn't what I had planned, but it's what happened: today I was crazy enough to hit the slopes with Nikolas and Viktor — the fearless Swedes of Snowbunnys — and to embark upon a grand tour of the resort with them. We covered an awful lot of runs today, and most of them were in the eastern area of the resort, which I didn't get around to visiting yesterday. Plus, we managed to navigate our way around for the entire day, without getting stuck or having to catch a bus once: it was lifts, gondolas and skis all the way. And as an added bonus: I even survived to tell the tale.

In Australia, we dream of a white Christmas. Well, this year — as of now — I for one am dreaming no longer: here in Kitzbühel, Christmas has arrived; and Christmases don't come much whiter than this. What with the snow, and the cold, and the cosy Austrian mountain village atmosphere... in a nutshell, I believe that this is how Christmas was meant to be. What could possibly be better than Dec 25^th in Austria? I may be Jewish, and I may have never properly celebrated Christmas (or any other Christian festival) in my life; but I've been exposed to it my whole life, and I know something special when I see it. To all my readers: wishing you a very merry Christmas; and wherever you are, try not to be too jealous of me. Bwahahahaha.

Ziss is how ve do things in Osstria: after ve go skiing, ve have some fun, ja! And as they say: when in Austria... you know what I mean. For my first-ever European "après-ski" evening, we didn't do anything too big. It was a fairly relaxed evening at Snowbunnys: the place was rather quiet tonight (much like the slopes during the day), so it was mainly just the crazy swedes, the Aussie amigos and myself. I tried out the Snowbunnys après-ski shower for the first time, and I was impressed. Us Aussies cooked up some shared pasta napolitana (with a side of mash) for dinner, which was delicious and quite filling. And once again (like last night), we hit The Londoner pub once more, for a couple of drinks and a quick shmooze.

Nikolas and Viktor are two blonde-haired, blue-eyed boys from Gothenburg, Sweden's second-largest city. The two of them are positively nuts about skiing: one of them has worked as an instructor before (for an entire season), and the other was formerly involved in competition-level skiing races; they've both skied for as long as they can remember. They're currently studying engineering at university, back home in Sweden; and they're here in Kitzbühel for what they call "a very short season", a mere three weeks. I met them at Snowbunnys this week; and when I had the courage, I did on occasion go up the mountain with them, and attempt to keep up as they tackled every insane slope they could find.

Back in Argentina, I commented on the hi-tech lift ticket system that they now use at Cerro Catedral. At the time, I was quite impressed. However, I now have to say that the Catedral tickets aren't so funky after all: Kitzbühel's redefine the notion of funk altogether. Instead of merely sporting scannable barcodes, the tickets here at Kitzbühel are true RFID devices. No need to pull them out of your pocket, wave them under an infra-red reader, and wait for the beep. No, sirree! These babies require no effort whatsoever: you just leave them in your pocket, and walk right through the turnstiles — they register as soon as you reach the barrier, at which point you hear a little beep, and in you go. As long as you make sure to keep your ticket in your left pocket (as all the sensors seem to be on the left side of the turnstiles), it's as easy as pie.

The colour-coding of ski trails, according to level of difficulty, is generally sensible and familiar. "Green" for beginner runs, "blue" for intermediate runs, and "black" for advanced runs (with some variations — e.g, the addition of "yellow" for super-easy runs, and of "double black" for expert / semi-suicidal runs). An international standard — or so I thought. But not here in Kitzbühel. Apparently, the Austrian way is to mark the trails "blue" for beginner runs, "red" for intermediate runs, and (thankfully still) "black" for advanced runs. Extremely confusing, and contrary to what I've now become intimately familiar with, over my several years of Aussie skiing. Argh!

It's been three months since I last hit the snow, and nine months since I last went skiing; so today, it was good to be back and to be doing both once again. For my first day of skiing at Austria's magnificent Kitzbühel resort, I took it easy, got back into the swing of things, and began exploring the icy but extensive selection of runs that are on offer.

We made it: here we are now, ready to go skiing in beautiful Kitzbühel! This evening was really just about settling in for a week in town. I'm lucky enough to have gotten a 6-bed dorm room all to myself at Snowbunnys: apparently, there'll be nobody to share it with until Wednesday. Craig, Sarah, Kade and myself had no trouble finding ski gear and clothing for hire this evening: the hire shop next door to the hostel was very busy (everyone preparing for the Monday run), but they had plenty of good-quality gear for everyone; and it wasn't too expensive either, especially with a 10% "Snowbunnys discount" :P. Plus, we managed to find The Londoner — one of Kitzbühel's most famous pubs — and to relax there over a few Flying Hirsches, while enjoying the pleasant sounds of the pub's shameless "fake band" (about 80% of the time, they were just pretending to play or to sing, with a backed recording actually doing most of the work).

Along with his Bulgarian wife, Dave is the crazy owner and manager of Snowbunnys. He's been living in Kitzbühel and running the place for several years now. Dave has possibly the driest and the most sardonic sense of humour I've ever encountered: so much so, that even calling it a "sense of humour" at all is quite a sketchy issue. Dave's managed to get on the wrong side of virtually everyone else in town; and it usually doesn't take him too long to do the same with his guests, either. Nevertheless, there are those who claim that "you just have to get to know him" — I didn't achieve this during my week at his hostel; and I'm guessing that even had I stayed a year, I'd still be struggling to work him out.