Part 1: The Spark

A few years ago, I made a commitment to pick up a new skill every year. In 2023, that curiosity led me to skiing. It wasn’t just about learning something new — I was intrigued by the idea of being surrounded by snow-covered mountains, immersed in an environment so different from my usual day-to-day.

My work and life are deeply intertwined, so when I try something new, it often feeds both sides — professionally and personally. For me, experience often fuels passion just as much as success does. Skiing was something I simply wanted to try.

So, in 2023, I traveled to Thredbo and signed up for lessons. Could I ski well? Not quite. But what became clear was that I genuinely enjoyed the experience — enough to want to pursue it further.

I learned quickly how important planning is: beating the school holiday rush, timing the season right… and most importantly, making sure there’s snow on the mountain!

Part 2: The Deep Dive

Over last Christmas, I took things up a notch with a trip to Niseko, Japan — a paradise for powder hounds.

Here are my lessons .

1. Learning is Personal

When it comes to learning, I tend to be clinical about the approach. I need structure, I need lessons — and yes, they’re expensive. But really, if you won’t invest in yourself, who else will?

In Niseko, I signed up for 3-hour half-day lessons. It was a wise call — I know my body, and I knew better than to overestimate my stamina. Having never played any sport growing up, my body isn’t exactly attuned to coordination or balance. So shorter sessions gave me the best shot at staying functional.

The instructors were kind and patient, and I made small but steady progress over the first three days — from absolute novice to… well, slightly less of a novice.

What struck me during those days was how personal learning truly is. Everyone around me was on their own journey:
— A mother who had been “gently forced” onto the slopes by her black run son & husband 
— A girl who simply couldn’t figure out how to stop , but wanted to learn skiing in day . 
— A couple who started off equally unsteady, but the guy picked it up remarkably fast

it was fascinating to watch how our learning a abilities were quite different.

Like any skill, preparation matters — and so does good gear. I’d come equipped: a solid pair of snow pants (dry and warm, no matter how many times I fell), decent goggles, and gloves, thermals, and socks I’d held onto from my Thredbo trip. It all made a difference I believe.

2. Lifted Too High, Humbled Just Enough

At Hirafu on Day 1, I set out with good intentions — I wanted to practise what my instructor had taught me on my own . I asked a receptionist where a beginner like me could go. She pointed me to a lift and said, “Head to the left after you get off — it’ll take you to the Family Run.”

What I didn’t mention — and probably should have — was that I was still very much a beginner. I had no idea that she meant I’d have to ski down to get to the Family Run.

So, up the lift I went. And when I got to the top, I asked an instructor nearby where to go. She quickly realised what had happened and gently explained, “You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble.”

And so began my unplanned descent which was not the assist slope for a beginner. I struggled, I fell — more than once — and I was honestly scared. But somehow, slowly and with a lot of effort, I made it to the bottom of the mountain. No injuries, just shaky legs and a deep sense of relief. That was more than enough adventure for one day.

Back at the hotel, I rewarded myself with a steaming bowl of hot ramen — the best kind of recovery meal.

There was one small moment that stayed with me: while I was flailing around mid-descent, a mother and daughter passing overhead in the chair lift yelled down, “Nice outfit!”
I hadn’t thought much of what I was wearing — in fact, I felt awkward and out of place. But maybe they saw I needed a little encouragement. A small act of kindness, shouted from above. It helped more than they probably realised.

3. Learning to Listen

By Day 2, I could feel every muscle in my body — the falls, the new movements, and the pressure on my shins were all part of the learning curve. But I was still eager, still showing up. The morning went well, but by noon the pain caught up with me, and I chose to skip the afternoon session. Not ideal, but I reminded myself: progress isn’t always about pushing harder.

Day 3 brought a real milestone — my first proper descent from the top of the mountain with my instructor. It wasn’t smooth, and I had a few clumsy falls, but I made it down. No major injuries, just a growing sense of confidence. Every fall was a step forward.

On Day 4, I woke up with bruises all over me & pain in my shins . I gave myself permission to pause. I wasn’t giving up — I was tuning in. A fellow snowboarder from Canberra was also taking a rest day in my hotel , which made me realise: people doquee know when to reset. I explored the town, enjoyed a slow lunch, soaked in an onsen, and let my body recharge.

That evening, I sat at a cosy café sipping a Christmas cocktail, watching the sun melt into the snow. It felt like a reward — not for perfection, but for showing up, learning, and listening.

Sometimes, the most meaningful progress happens in the quiet moments — in choosing rest, in noticing beauty, in letting go of the pressure to do it all.

4. Sometimes Exposure Matters More Than Experience

Having been born in a different part of the world, with a different set of opportunities, I’ve often found myself curious about things I didn’t grow up around. There’s always something new to try, learn, fail at — and sometimes just experience for the sake of understanding.

Not everything needs to lead to mastery. Sometimes it’s simply about exposure — getting a taste of something to see if it’s for me. If I don’t try, how would I ever know?

Trying gives me clarity: whether it sparks passion or helps me move on, either way, I’ve gained something valuable.

5. Normalising Learning as an Adult

I saw kids skiing on the mountain with so much ease.

Somewhere along the way, society starts to expect adults to be experts — to stick to what we know, avoid looking clumsy, and play it safe. But I’ve come to believe that continuing to learn, especially as an adult, is one of the most empowering things we can do.

Learning to ski reminded me how uncomfortable growth can feel. It’s humbling to fall. It’s even more humbling to fall in front of others. But that discomfort is part of the process.

Adopting a growth mindset — the belief that we can evolve, at any age — is liberating. We don’t have to be good at everything. We just have to be open. Trying something new doesn’t make you less — it makes you braver.

The truth is, adults need playgrounds too.