In daylight, the snow-covered ground and candle-like spruces shape a beautiful winter wonderland in myriad shades of white. Now, in the afternoon with full moon, hard shadows create an almost magical world in shades of grey and black. I’ve walked to the café so many times before. Every time it’s beautiful, but today it’s something special. I feel alive with each step.

The café at the bottom of the slope is a kota; a small traditional wooden Lappish hut where you can get fine coffee and delicious cakes. I open the door and knock the doorframe with my boots, getting rid of most of the snow before entering. Friendly eyes look up from behind the counter, smiling. We greet without words, as usual.

With my coffee and a Finnish cinnamon roll I take a seat at the fire outside to warm up my hands and fuel my body. Two tourists walk towards the door, chattering loudly, so I can’t help overhearing. “I don’t get it”, she says, “I just don’t get the fun of it. With cross-country skiing you can go to places. But downhill? Why would you take the lift to the top, go down, then go back up with the same lift, go down again over the same slope and do this up and down over and over again?” He shrugs.

As the door closes behind them, I gaze at the fire, smiling and at the same time feeling sorry for them. If she can’t enjoy doing the same thing repeatedly, her life lacks a lot of beauty. And if she can’t enjoy an up and down motion repeatedly, both of their lives are lacking a lot of fun! I swallow the last sip of coffee, get up and head back the same way I came.

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