{"id":171581,"date":"2025-09-02T10:00:38","date_gmt":"2025-09-02T14:00:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=171581"},"modified":"2025-08-29T12:02:06","modified_gmt":"2025-08-29T16:02:06","slug":"intrigue-on-the-slopes-of-bardonecchia","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2025\/09\/02\/intrigue-on-the-slopes-of-bardonecchia\/","title":{"rendered":"Intrigue on the Slopes of Bardonecchia"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"

Illustration by Sean Donahue.<\/p><\/div>\n

When one\u2019s boss says, \u201cWe\u2019re goin\u2019 to Italy in January,\u201d one is not in a position to disagree. There is Italy: beautiful. There is the gentle coercion: “We\u2019re goin\u2019.” There are the professional considerations: one\u2019s boss. And there is the mysterious magnetism of the occasion itself: Some sort of conference? For international journalists? And we\u2019ll be skiing the whole time?<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll be a team-building thing,\u201d the boss told Our Journalist over the phone. Something more was said about \u201cnetworking with the foreign press\u201d and \u201cfooting the bill for our airfare,\u201d and Our Journalist soon found himself committed to attending the Ski Club of International Journalists\u2019 seventieth annual meeting.<\/p>\n

The boss\u2019s name is Ryan, and he has a way of making things happen. \u201cInviting Chandler to Italy, so it\u2019ll be the four of us,\u201d he texted a few days later. The fourth person is Valen. They are all young American journalists, and they work for the same magazine. Ryan is the managing editor, Valen and Chandler are contributing writers, and Our Journalist is a modest copy editor. He has gently placed commas into Valen\u2019s and Chandler\u2019s articles.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cFamilies That Ski Together, Stay Together,\u201d reports the website All Mountain Mamas. Psychology Today<\/em> declares that \u201creal rewards come when we leave the bunny slopes, both on skis and in life.\u201d Time <\/em>magazine calls skiing \u201ca Ridiculously Good Workout.\u201d This trip was shaping up to be a real professional and personal boon.<\/p>\n

The Ski Club of International Journalists is as real as you or me. It exists not only in the fantasies of frustrated Swiss radio hosts and overworked Kazakhstani investigative reporters but in the Nock Mountains of Austria, the Karawanks of Slovenia, the Mangfall Alps of Germany, and other magnificent alpine ranges, where for seventy winters journalists from all over the world have gathered to ski and drink and bask in conviviality.<\/p>\n

As do NATO<\/small> and the International Olympic Committee, the Ski Club of International Journalists (SCIJ) has as its official languages English and French. As with Aspirin and deconstruction, a Frenchman may be held responsible for this peculiar invention. It was 1955, a tense year. It was the year of the Bern incident, in which a mustachioed Transylvanian sculptor attacked the Romanian embassy in Switzerland. It was the year of the Geneva Summit, in which top leaders from the USSR, the USA, Britain, and France convened in an attempt to soften the international tensions of the Cold War. The year of the Warsaw Pact, in which the Soviet Union and seven Eastern Bloc countries pledged mutual defense. And the year that Gilles de La Rocque, playing his own humble ambassadorial role, convened the first meeting of SCIJ.<\/p>\n

Gilles de La Rocque was a journalist of aristocratic origins. He liked to hike and ski. He has been described as romantic<\/a>. His forehead was high, his nose broad, and his frame in photographs looks slight but sinewy. He sometimes wore a cravat. He fought against the Germans. And after World War II ended, he began working for a daily newspaper in Paris. But his ambitions exceeded the press box: he had a talent for diplomacy, and a disdain for the Iron Curtain dividing Western and Eastern Europe, and these traits collided to create an idea.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s some kind of Boy Scout idea,\u201d La Rocque would say two decades after SCIJ\u2019s founding. The idea was to get journalists from both sides of the Iron Curtain together and put them on skis: Yugoslavs and Swedes, Bulgarians and Brits, all gliding down the same white hill, bridging their countries\u2019 ideological rifts, chipping away at that East-West barrier \u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cMountains bring people together,\u201d La Rocque believed. And they did. From 1955 on, all around Europe the journalists went, to the resorts of M\u00e9ribel and Zakopane and Bayrischzell and Bad Gastein, talking and skiing under the auspices of SCIJ. Club membership was not individual but, like an intergovernmental organization, a matter of nation-states. Each \u201cMember Nation\u201d would get one captain and one vote in the General Assembly (GA), where club matters would be decided. SCIJ would also be overseen by a kind of executive branch: an International Committee (IC) comprised of a club president and a secretary-general. SCIJ rules on term limits have changed over time, but IC members are\u00a0currently\u00a0allowed to serve two three-year terms.<\/p>\n

The first SCIJ meeting included eight Member Nations, or national teams: Austria, Belgium, France, Italy, Luxembourg, Switzerland, West Germany, and Yugoslavia. Soon enough, Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Czech Republic joined, along with the Brits and Americans. Russia was added in 1960, four years after Team USA. Russia did not always behave<\/a>. In 1977, its SCIJ team was led by Kremlin officials. The Kremlin\u2019s skiers reportedly spied on their peers.<\/p>\n

Nonetheless, SCIJ prospered and grew, during and after the Cold War. It welcomed more nations into its arms. Individual membership reached a thousand. Members roamed the earth, skiing in Qu\u00e9bec and Utah and Kazakhstan.<\/p>\n

Today, SCIJ has demographics in some ways akin to Italy\u2019s: the old far outnumber the young. In 2024, the average SCIJ member was fifty-five years old. When Our Journalist and his colleagues joined in 2025, the average age went down to fifty-two.<\/p>\n

Joining SCIJ is simple. You shell out sixty euros for the membership fee, four hundred euros for the meeting fee, and answer yes to the prompt \u201cMore than 80% of my professional compensated activities are from journalism\u201d on the online registration portal. \u201cJournalism\u201d and \u201c80%\u201d are to be understood capaciously: certain members seem to derive their income primarily from flying airplanes, or from practicing law, or from \u201cthe industrious nature of my grandparents and parents.\u201d In exchange for the privilege of participating in SCIJ, attendees are expected to write light touristic dispatches about their time at these gatherings, e.g.:<\/p>\n

\n

For one surreal, suspended week on an island \u2026 borders and age gaps and ideological differences faded into a whipped cream wonderland of camaraderie. (Scott Newman, 27 Rouge<\/em>; SCIJ 2023, Canada)<\/p>\n

We, of course, had a good selection of regional cheeses, but do not think of sophisticated wine-cheese pairings and tastings. Despite being in France, we were usually indulging ourselves in Belgian beer.\u00a0(Aylin \u00d6ney Tan, H\u00fcrriyet Daily News<\/em>;\u00a0SCIJ 2019, France)<\/p>\n

Customs regulations prevented bringing turkey from the US, but the hotel did a commendable job of roasting two large birds. (Leah Larkin, Tales and Travel<\/em>; SCIJ 2012, Turkey)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Each year, a different Member Nation accepts the responsibility of hosting SCIJ in their country. This year it was Team Italy\u2019s turn. On January 26, 2025, SCIJ celebrated its seventh decade in the Italian alps, in the Susa Valley, in the town of Bardonecchia.<\/p>\n

\u00a0***<\/strong><\/p>\n

Our journalist\u2019s journey to Italy passed pleasantly. He spent part of it catching up on the SCIJ WhatsApp chat, to which he\u2019d just been inducted:<\/p>\n

\n

“Dutch pea soup is on its way to Turin.”<\/p>\n

“German Currywurst just passed the border to Bella Italia!”<\/p>\n

“Oysters and champagne arriving from France!”<\/p>\n

“Some Turkish delight to please the sweet tooth!”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The bus then rattled from the airport to its terminus in Turin, and Our Journalist shuffled out to look for the rest of Team USA. He found them by the train station, unloading their gear from a different bus.<\/p>\n

Ryan and Valen looked up and grinned.<\/p>\n

Valen wore a long dark coat and her hair touched the coat\u2019s fur collar. Ryan was tall and blond and Californian; he had a trim handsome beard and a tan face. Our Journalist hugged his colleagues.<\/p>\n

There was an older gentleman with them too. He was dressed formally, in a gray blazer, a white shirt, and a red silk tie patterned with sunflowers. His hair was cut close to his head, his cheeks were stubbled gray, and he bore a certain jolly heft. He told the Americans that he was Bulgarian.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s fuckin\u2019 go!\u201d said Ryan, as the last of the bags came out of the bus. He put his hands on his hips and sighed happily. \u201cShould we sit down somewhere and have a beer?\u201d<\/p>\n

The group found a caf\u00e9 inside the train station, and everyone ordered a local IPA.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was your name again?\u201d Our Journalist asked the Bulgarian.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am Tihomir,\u201d he declared. \u201cBut friends call me Tisho. Like \u2026 piece of paper for blowing nose.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Americans nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is your name,\u201d said Tisho.<\/p>\n

\u201cNoah,\u201d said Our Journalist.<\/p>\n

\u201cNoah. Like the coffin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Our Journalist said, \u201clike the ark.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tisho, it emerged from their conversation, was primarily a lawyer. He had a legal column in a newspaper and sometimes wrote reported pieces. His latest article was about Bulgarian expats in Munich who paid steep prices for imported Bulgarian cabbage. Bulgarians preferred Bulgarian cabbage.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you like the Bulgarian State Women\u2019s Choir?\u201d Our Journalist asked. The choir was one of the few things he knew about Tisho\u2019s country.<\/p>\n

Tisho frowned. \u201cI prefer Ray Charles. Ray Charles came to Bulgaria.\u201d He smiled. \u201cTina Turner came to Bulgaria.\u201d He smiled wider. \u201cRolling Stones\u201d\u2014he scowled and scrunched his face\u2014\u201cdo not come. They are my favorite.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tisho fell silent and looked at his bottle of beer. His eyes narrowed. \u201cThis beer says rock and roll,\u201d he muttered. This realization seemed to unlock something in him. He rummaged in his backpack and extracted a large green can and set it on the table. It was beer.<\/p>\n

\u201cBulgarian,\u201d he announced with satisfaction. He picked up the can and splashed some into each American\u2019s glass. Then he filled his own. The waiter didn\u2019t seem to notice.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s very kind of you,\u201d said Ryan.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s nice,\u201d Our Journalist said after taking a sip.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m nice too,\u201d said Tisho.<\/p>\n

Our Journalist agreed. There was a pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo how big is the Bulgarian team?\u201d Ryan asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am the only one,\u201d Tisho said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Tisho shook his head sadly. \u201cWe\u2019re in a very \u2026 difficult place right now. You will see.\u201d<\/p>\n

And here we must clarify: mountains can, but do not always, \u201cbring people together.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was 2019, and the Bulgarians were in the hole.<\/p>\n

The issue of the debt had begun in Val d\u2019Arly, France, on a trip organized by the Belgian branch of the Ski Club of International Journalists. Four members of SCIJ Bulgaria had, with what some considered insufficient notice, canceled their trips to the French Alps after initially committing. This put the hosting Belgians in an uncomfortable position\u2014they had already paid for the hotel rooms and buses. One of those Belgians was a man named Bruno Schmitz. The Bulgarians, he and certain members alleged, owed SCIJ sixteen hundred euros. The Bulgarians, other members alleged, did not; they had canceled well in advance. In 2023, Bruno Schmitz was elected as SCIJ\u2019s secretary-general, whose duty it is to manage club finances. In his new role, Schmitz made debt collection something of a priority.<\/p>\n

The debt sowed discord. So did some unsavory social media posts and text messages that may or may not have been related to it. What those posts and texts were certainly related to was the leader of the Bulgarians, Alex Bogoyavlenski.<\/p>\n

\u201cI like our Bulgarian friends,\u201d Bruno has noted. \u201cAlex, however, is a bit difficult.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alex had been the first Bulgarian to cancel his trip to Val d\u2019Arly, citing \u201cpersonal problems.\u201d He vociferously refused to pay arrears for so doing. \u201cI think Alex would prefer to take the money and burn it in front of us rather than pay up,\u201d one SCIJ member would later tell Bruno. In 2023, further problems accrued: certain members of the Ski Club of International Journalists asserted that Alex Bogoyavlenski was, in fact, not a journalist. It must be admitted: Alex\u2019s username on Instagram is thelazyflyer. He has three titles on LinkedIn: first \u201cCommercial Pilot,\u201d second \u201cDigital Marketing Mastermind,\u201d and then \u201cAviation Journalist.\u201d He flies Boeing 737s and Airbus A220s for Bulgaria Air. There was talk of banishing Bogoyavlenski from the club.<\/p>\n

\u00a0***<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s so many schisms I could tell you about,\u201d said a slight British woman.<\/p>\n

“It\u2019s part of the pleasure of SCIJ,\u201d said a Canadian.<\/p>\n

It was Welcome Night at the Villaggio Olimpico, the hotel in Bardonecchia that was hosting the skiing journalists for the week, and we were all getting acquainted\u2014reporters from the Financial Times<\/em>, editors from Agence France Presse, hosts from Radiotelevisione italiana. The hotel was reminiscent of a provisional hospital someone had forgotten to tear down. Inside, its walls were cold and white. Outside, it was painted a queasy green.<\/p>\n

“Might one of those schisms have to do with Bulgaria?” asked Our Journalist.<\/p>\n

The Brit\u2019s eyes twinkled Britishly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll see,\u201d she said. It was time for dinner.<\/p>\n

The skiing journalists filed over to the hotel cafeteria with their gl\u00fchwein, ducking between swarms of swaggy Italian teens and tweens dressed in black. In the dining hall, there were chicken legs and roasted potatoes and big plastic pitchers of wine. Our Journalist sat across from a tall rosy Belgian who was, it emerged from their conversation, a lawyer, not a journalist. He was excited about the recent American elections.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe average American \u2026 is so ignorant!\u201d he said. \u201cThe average American \u2026 has no idea of history!\u201d<\/p>\n

Our Journalist glanced to his right. Tisho was off at a different table, concentrating on pouring wine into a plastic water bottle.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe average American \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Our Journalist looked to his left. Over in the lobby, a woman from SCIJ Italy had begun distributing ski passes and goody bags from behind a counter.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026 knows nothing <\/em>of the world!\u201d<\/p>\n

Our Journalist excused himself to collect his goodies.<\/p>\n

He thanked the woman behind the counter and peeked in the bag. There were 650 grams of salami, 466 grams of Parmigiano Reggiano, and a black notebook labeled PARMIGIANO REGGIANO.<\/small><\/p>\n

\u201cYou accuse me?!\u201d someone was shouting.<\/p>\n

Our Journalist looked up from his salami. Hey, it was Tisho.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe already gave you your pass!\u201d hissed the Italian woman. She thought Tisho was trying to bamboozle her into giving him an extra bag.<\/p>\n

\u201cI got pass but not bag! You accuse me?!\u201d Tisho touched his chest proudly.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake it and get out of here!\u201d She flung the bag on the counter.<\/p>\n

Tisho scowled. He was not satisfied.<\/p>\n

\u201cApologize to me!\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The Italian woman ignored him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou apologize to me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, yeah. I\u2019m sorry. Now please<\/em> leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tisho swiped the goodies and stomped away. I insisted on my rights and got them, he thought.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Rumor is a river that runs two ways. Alex the Bulgarian stood accused, in essence, of refusing to repay a debt and of being a fraud. But it was said by other skiing journalists that the current president of SCIJ, a middle-aged Canadian named Frederick Wallace, was the one who was not a journalist. It was said that under his tenure six thousand euros in club funds had been spent with a suspicious lack of documentation. It was said that he was trampling on justice in his treatment of Alex Bogoyavlenski, who in fact had \u201cover three-hundred authored publications and media projects in the past two years.\u201d (Alex’s words.) And it was said that the Bulgarians were not really in debt: The Belgians had actually run a raffle at SCIJ 2019 to recoup their losses\u2014and succeeded. The Belgians, it seemed to some, were thus after not sixteen hundred euros but revenge for the cancellation. It did not help that Wallace was currently serving a third term, in defiance, some believed, of current club statutes. SCIJ had come to seem like \u201cthe president\u2019s fiefdom,\u201d as one club member would put it. (\u201cI have no comment,\u201d the president told Our Journalist when asked about the intricacies of the Bulgarian Case.)<\/p>\n

Adding to the Bulgarians\u2019 rue was the fact that they had helped Wallace win his first presidential election so many years ago. That was in 2014. That was in Switzerland. That was a mistake. I gave him good advice, Alex Bogoyavlenski would remember of those days. He seemed like a reasonable guy. He had a business plan. Now Wallace had turned against him.<\/p>\n

The issue took on a curious midcentury flavor. \u201cI remain totally disgusted from the action against Alex; it is against all of us from the East,\u201d one of Alex\u2019s countrywomen messaged a German SCIJ member who\u2019d cast doubt on the Bulgarian leader\u2019s professional bona fides. Alex\u2019s defender continued in an ominous vein: \u201cIt takes me efforts to abstain from comparison with German history.\u201d Even some Westerners saw what this Bulgarian woman saw: autocracy. \u201cThis is the behaviour of a dictatorship, not a club of journalists,\u201d a British member wrote in a SCIJ Facebook group.<\/p>\n

\u00a0***<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Americans headed up to their rooms after the first night\u2019s dinner. They were weak and woozy. The pitchers of wine had been unlimited, the chicken sat uneasily in their stomachs, and they\u2019d met a dizzying number of international journalists. They stepped out onto the balcony for some alpine air.<\/p>\n

The voice seemed to come from above, and it sounded like \u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cTisho, is that you?\u201d said Ryan.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is that from,\u201d said Tisho.<\/p>\n

The Americans looked up to the floor above and saw an open window.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re down here,\u201d said Ryan.<\/p>\n

A single hand crept slowly from the window overhead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe are \u2026 serving life sentence up here,\u201d said Tisho. This seemed to be his way of saying he didn\u2019t like the hotel.<\/p>\n

\u201cTish!\u201d said Valen.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have \u2026 balcony-terrace?\u201d Tisho\u2019s hand withdrew.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do not,\u201d he said with a hint of envy. \u201cI will come see what is there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tisho shuffled into the Americans\u2019 hotel room a few minutes later. His tie was loose and he was holding a plastic water bottle full of red wine. He looked around unimpressed. The accommodations at recent SCIJ gatherings had been rather more glamorous.<\/p>\n

Our Journalist had heard about last year\u2019s trip to Kazakhstan at the welcome dinner. The international journalists had been lodged at the Royal Tulip Hotel, a palatial resort with gilded columns, crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and a casino. It was there that SCIJ\u2019s General Assembly had met to adjudicate what had come to be called the “Bulgarian Case.\u201d<\/p>\n

On account of his debt and pugnacity, Alex the Bulgarian had not been invited to the 2024 SCIJ meeting. Alex did not care. He had flown alone to Kazakhstan. He had shown up at the Royal Tulip Hotel and sat amid the General Assembly. He had defended himself valiantly against the allegations: pilot and journalist are not mutually exclusive professions, he had argued. He had then observed his clubmates\u2019 own deliberations on The Bulgarian Case.<\/p>\n

\u201cForget about the debt from SCIJ Bulgaria,\u201d a merciful Dane proposed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe cannot forgive the debt,\u201d said a merciless Kazakhstani.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should have had this conversation last year,\u201d said a weary Croatian.<\/p>\n

Eventually, the issue was resolved through a kind of deferral: a group called \u201cthe Committee of the Wise\u201d was formed to determine, conclusively, what had happened. Later that year, this committee recommended that the Bulgarian debt be canceled. But this was only a recommendation, and it was in Bardonecchia, at the meeting of the General Assembly, on the third day of the seven-day trip, that all would be decided.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon!\u201d screamed Our Journalist. His fellow Americans kept collapsing on the ski slope. The slope was called Baby 1.<\/p>\n

It was their first full day in Bardonecchia, and they needed to practice. Chandler was from Phoenix, Arizona. Valen was from San Diego, California. They had never skied before. Valen had scarcely seen snow. Our Journalist had to whip Team USA into shape before the SCIJ 2025 race. It was just four days away, and the week\u2019s main event. The rest of the week, club members were free to ski as they pleased.<\/p>\n

There was a race every year, and the club members approached it with gravity and resolve. The Italians were known to wear matching red jackets. The Kazakhstanis were known to wear matching blue coats. Injuries had been sustained in the quest for speed and glory. A Dutchwoman had once sustained a concussion; a Slovenian had busted a knee; an Irishwoman had broken an arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanna see less pizza and more hot dog!\u201d screamed Our Journalist.<\/p>\n

Chandler put his skis in parallel position and spun around and collapsed. Valen was in the snow trying to get up. Our Journalist turned sharply and tumbled too. Little Italians zoomed by.<\/p>\n

Bambini, Our Journalist thought. When he was a bambino himself, he had learned to ski at Appalachian resorts dusted with artificial snow, on the meager mounds of Virginia and West Virginia. Italy was something else.<\/p>\n

After a few more runs on Baby 1, they tried Baby 2. It was slightly steeper.<\/p>\n

\u201cLean more on your back leg!\u201d Our Journalist called across the snow. He wasn\u2019t sure he knew what he was talking about. \u201cIt\u2019s like you\u2019re sitting in a chair!\u201d Chandler grazed a small child.<\/p>\n

They decided to take a break at Harald\u2019s Ski Restaurant, at the bottom of Baby 2. They ate lukewarm cheeseburgers and drank pints of beer under long timber beams.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy skis keep getting crossed,\u201d said Chandler.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne of my legs is better than the other,\u201d said Valen.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou guys are doing great,\u201d said Our Journalist.<\/p>\n

They returned to the slopes and spent four more hours hurtling downhill. They needed the practice. And it would feel good to celebrate that evening\u2019s Nations Night after a long hard day of skiing.<\/p>\n

Nations Night is an old SCIJ tradition, a chance to drink, dance, and share one\u2019s cherished native cuisine with fellow skiing journalists. \u201cThe Slovenians and Croatians make a very rich Nations Night,\u201d Tisho had approvingly told Our Journalist back when they first met: It was a standard to which one wished to live up,. But every American, it soon became clear, had forgotten to bring foodstuffs from back home. This was bad optics for Team USA.<\/p>\n

A few hours before the party kicked off, Ryan and Our Journalist recalled the words of a subeditor for the Times <\/em>of London: \u201cWe just bring whiskey cuz no one wants to eat British food.\u201d Here was an idea. Following an apr\u00e8s-ski <\/em>dinner, they set off into town to procure some American hooch.<\/p>\n

They wandered through the snow and streetlights of Bardonecchia. The grocery stores were closed. The liquor stores were closed. It was time to get resourceful. They walked into a bar.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cPosso comprare tutta una bottiglia di Jack Daniels?<\/em>\u201d Our Journalist struggled to say.<\/p>\n

The barman was somber. \u201cI ask,\u201d he said, and ducked into the back.<\/p>\n

He returned. \u201cNon \u00e8 possibile<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat if we pay a premium?\u201d said Ryan.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ask,\u201d said the barman. He ducked away again.<\/p>\n

The barman was grave. \u201cSessanta euro<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cWe\u2019ll take it,\u201d said Ryan.<\/p>\n

They walked back to the hotel, out of the cold, into the warm bosom of Nations Night, and were whopped by a musky, dark, magnificent smell \u2026 the many cured meats of Europe and Eurasia \u2026 fermented milks and fermented grains \u2026 raw mollusks and salted cod \u2026 goat cheese and anchovies and sausage and wine \u2026 a thrilling blend of sounds and deep stenches \u2026 the French cracking oysters \u2026 the Swiss melting raclette\u2026the Kazakhstanis slicing some kind of dried animal leg \u2026 the Canadians pouring maple syrup on snow\u2026 an Italian DJ playing Linkin Park\u2019s \u201cNumb\u201d \u2026<\/p>\n

The Americans began serving up shots at the Team USA table.<\/p>\n

\u201cI looove<\/em> Jack Daniels,\u201d a German woman moaned in a baritone. \u201cI looove <\/em>Jack Daniels.\u201d<\/p>\n

Our Journalist looked elsewhere. Tisho was over in the corner, seated solo behind the Team Bulgaria table.<\/p>\n

Tisho acknowledged him with a tired nod. \u201cBulgarian grappa, from grapes,\u201d he said. He lifted a tall thin glass bottle. \u201cIt\u2019s natural.\u201d<\/p>\n

Our Journalist drank a cup. Tisho was less energetic than yesterday, but he was as bighearted as ever, and Our Journalist\u2019s presence seemed to animate him.<\/p>\n

\u201cBulgarian salami,\u201d Tisho continued. He gestured toward a dark pile of meat-sticks on a plate. Our Journalist thanked him and chewed on one.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s delicious,\u201d Our Journalist said.<\/p>\n

This seemed to uplift Tisho even more. He suddenly picked up the plate and stood and began calling out into the party, \u201cCome! Bulgarian salami!\u201d There was light in his eyes.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The day after Nations Night found the international skiing journalists a slightly haggard and crapulent bunch. Still, the club members had political responsibilities to fulfill. The General Assembly was tonight, and upon its unfolding Bulgaria\u2019s fate would depend.<\/p>\n

Despite the austerity of its decor, Bardonecchia\u2019s Villaggio Olimpico hotel was rich in special features. Its basement held a pool and a discotheque; its ground floor had a \u201cLounge Bar.\u201d Close by the lounge was the theater, and in the theater the General Assembly of SCIJ was about to meet.<\/p>\n

The journalists trickled in, finding their places among the yellow plastic chairs. Everyone sat with their respective nations: the Italians were with Italians, the Czechs were with Czechs, the Canadians were with Canadians. The Bulgarian was alone.<\/p>\n

Tisho was wearing a blue polar fleece, gray utility pants, and brown ankle boots. He was slouched and quiet. The Americans took their seats behind him.<\/p>\n

Exactly eight minutes before the General Assembly was set to convene, a message appeared in the SCIJ WhatsApp chat. It read, in part:<\/p>\n

\n

Dears,<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s the official Statement of SCIJ Bulgaria regarding today\u2019s General Assembly \u2026 Have a good meeting everyone!\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

It was from Alex Bogoyavlenski, the exiled captain of Team Bulgaria.<\/p>\n

A statement had been sent to the phones of all SCIJ members: \u201cSCIJ Bulgaria has been seriously harmed,\u201d Our Journalist read in the first of its ten declarations. Its language was mighty. It described \u201cunscrupulous pressure\u201d and \u201ccontroversial cases.\u201d It described a \u201cwitch hunt\u201d and a \u201cgross violation\u201d of SCIJ ethics. And it mentioned a devious quid pro quo, proposed by the president and secretary general, to dissolve the \u201cnonexistent Bulgarian \u2018debt\u2019 \u201d in exchange for \u201cthe exclusion of the two most inconvenient members of the Bulgarian Club, one of whom is its Chairman, from all subsequent international meetings.\u201d<\/p>\n

Our Journalist set his phone down as the Assembly got underway. The first major item of the night\u2019s agenda was Austria. This was a big night for Austria, whose SCIJ membership had lapsed in 2014 because their sole members at the time were doctors, not journalists.\u00a0 The General Assembly would soon vote on whether the country should be reinducted into SCIJ, bringing the club\u2019s total number of Member Nations to thirty-two, the same number as NATO<\/small>. \u201cAustria\u2019s involvement will strengthen our global community of journalists who share a passion for skiing,\u201d a SCIJ leader from Turkey was saying. \u201cAnd now we ask the Assembly to accept Austria.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jacopo the Italian led the vote. \u201cAgainst accepting Austria as the thirty-second member of SCIJ?\u201d The hands stayed down. \u201cIn favor?\u201d The hands shot up. \u201cEveryone,\u201d he said. \u201cSo we welcome Austria as the thirty-second member of SCIJ!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoo!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAustria!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah!\u201d<\/p>\n

It was soon a Croatian member\u2019s turn to address the Assembly. She was speaking on a less unifying subject\u2014the quantity of articles that members do or do not produce about SCIJ.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the problem? So what\u2019s the problem?\u201d she asked. She was standing in front of a PowerPoint slide, and she was not smiling. \u201cHere are the numbers by the countries. Take a look at it. Please.\u201d<\/p>\n

An Excel spreadsheet was glowing onstage. It showed how many articles members from each Member Nation had written in recent years. The audience gazed on dumbly. The French and Danes, the spreadsheet revealed, had not produced a single piece about either the 2024 meeting in Kazakhstan or the 2023 meeting in Canada.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a parrot,\u201d she said bitterly. \u201cI sound like a parrot. Year by year. Reminding you that you have <\/em>to produce.\u201d<\/p>\n

A muttering gradually bloomed in the auditorium: What the fuck was this?<\/p>\n

\u201cTake a look again,\u201d she insisted. \u201cWe had a 54 percent return from the Canada meeting. We were on the almost-exotic island in Canada. We were skiing there with all the indigenous people, and we got just 54 percent.\u201d<\/p>\n

The muttering grew to a rumble.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is all,\u201d the Croatian woman said at last, deflating the balloon of discontent. Some applause broke out, loose and leaky. She glared at the audience. \u201cWhat a sad clapping.\u201d She returned to her seat.<\/p>\n

The mood was already sober, and the Bulgarian Case drew near.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyone want to say something?\u201d said Jacopo the Italian.<\/p>\n

Another Italian rose and accepted the microphone. His head was mostly free of hair, and he was wearing a gray wool sweater over a blue button-up. He was a slight, older man, and his voice quivered with feeling.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor us, the debt of the Bulgarian team does not exist,\u201d said Mario the Italian.<\/p>\n

Tisho faced the Americans. \u201cMario \u00e8 un amico<\/em>,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

It is difficult to describe how good this made Our Journalist feel, to see Bulgaria and Italy shaking hands\u2014forgetting the battle of the goody bag.<\/p>\n

A grizzly Englishman\u2014defender of Alex, critic of Frederick\u2014followed Mario.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis issue is tearing this club apart,\u201d he said through his gray beard. \u201cThis issue needs to be put to bed. It is a festering sore.\u201d He enjoined his colleagues to vote yes on the Committee of the Wise\u2019s report, and he received some applause.<\/p>\n

There was time yet to speak before the vote, and it was Our Journalist who now stepped to the front of the General Assembly. He was dressed formally, in a white dress shirt and a silk tie patterned with flowers.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m on Team USA,\u201d he said to his international peers. \u201cMany of us are new here. We are not so familiar with the conflict. But we have read the report.\u201d He was overexcited, trembling\u2014yet he pushed on.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think if this organization is really about ameliorating tensions between the East and the West,\u201d Our Journalist said, \u201cit\u2019s very much in the spirit of SCIJ to accept that there\u2019s been a conflict and we ought to simply resolve it in a spirit of forgiving and mercy. And so\u201d\u2014he was reaching the end of his speech, the climax, the point; out of ideas but full of spirit\u2014\u201cwe very much stand with the Bulgarians.\u201d<\/p>\n

He walked back to his seat exhilarated.<\/p>\n

Tisho turned around to face him. \u201cI was not expecting that,\u201d he said quietly. He reached out to shake Our Journalist\u2019s hand. \u201cThank you, America.\u201d<\/p>\n

Our Journalist looked at Tisho. His eyes were blue and wet.<\/p>\n

Tisho turned back to face the stage. Here came the vote.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, who is in favor of the Wise Committee report?\u201d Jacopo asked.<\/p>\n

Fourteen hands lifted.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho is against the report?\u201d<\/p>\n

The air was void of arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbstention?\u201d<\/p>\n

And now something strange happened, something Our Journalist did not quite understand. Nine hands stretched up to abstain, and one of them was Tisho\u2019s.<\/p>\n

The Americans whispered to each other. Why was the Bulgarian not defending his country? Why not vote yea?<\/p>\n

Partly out of principle, it turned out. To vote to \u201cforgive\u201d a \u201cdebt\u201d is to acknowledge that said debt exists in the first place. This the Bulgarians would not do.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe cannot agree with the fact that Bulgaria has old unpaid bills,\u201d Tisho later told Our Journalist.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Our Journalist\u2019s legs were shaking. He bounced up and down in his ski boots.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou look nervous,\u201d said a Turkish journalist, who was filming Our Journalist on his iPhone.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m always nervous,\u201d said Our Journalist.<\/p>\n

He was also feeling feeble. Two days earlier, not long after the General Assembly had adjourned, he\u2019d been struck by what the Italians call the virus del vomito invernale<\/em>, the winter vomiting bug. He\u2019d spent a night lying on the cold blue tiles of the bathroom floor, wrapped in a blanket, vomiting and shaking madly at sea. He\u2019d spent forty more hours prone in the hotel room bed, groaning and cursing his lot. This was his first venture back out into the snow.<\/p>\n

\u201cUno<\/em>,\u201d intoned the starter.<\/p>\n

Our Journalist peered down the slope. It had been used in the 2006 Winter Olympics. By professionals.<\/p>\n

\u201cDue<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Shame, he thought. He wiggled his skis into position.<\/p>\n

\u201cTre<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

He had heard but not heard; it did not seem quite right. But the starter had said it: “Tre<\/em>.” He could feel the starter\u2019s pity. Was he stupido<\/em>? Why just standing there?<\/p>\n

He slipped thru the gate and threw himself downhill\u2014all wrong\u2014legs spread too wide standing too tall poles jerking out like wings or oak branches\u2014not even fast dared not speed up weaving thru flags red blue he\u2019d topple down bust his knees and skull balls elbows\u2014sun bent down the mountain\u2014quick dark shape some freak chasing him almost bailed from fear\u2014just his own shadow fanning huge behind\u2014can\u2019t see shit in the shadow planting poles icy patch wobbly chicken legs\u2014<\/p>\n

What a sad clapping<\/em>. He\u2019d made it to the end. The end! A group of SCIJ members were applauding temperately.<\/p>\n

A middle-aged Italian announcer was also waiting at the bottom of the slope. The announcer had a perverted dimension to his personality. If someone skied well, he called out their time in Italian; if someone skied poorly, he called out their time in English and Italian. This was to ensure, it seemed, the broadest possible audience for shame.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne minute, nineteen seconds!\u201d he shouted cheerfully in English.<\/p>\n

It was faster than Chandler and Tisho, but slower than almost everyone else.<\/p>\n

By the end of the competition, Kazakhstan had earned four gold medals to emerge as the winner. Italy had earned three, Slovakia two, Canada one. America and Bulgaria: none.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

But Bulgaria had succeeded in other respects.<\/p>\n

Its opponents had been silent during the General Assembly: no Belgian had stood up to slander Alex. No Canadian had yelled for Bulgaria to pay its \u201cnonexistent \u2018debt.\u2019 \u201d No one had even raised a hand against the Wise Committee\u2019s report\u2014a majority had been in favor.<\/p>\n

Tisho seemed happy enough with these developments at the final dinner party of SCIJ 2025, held at a restaurant in an old stone farmstead. Small bites had been arrayed atop white tablecloths\u2014anchovies, mortadella, insalata russa<\/em>, zucchine alla scapece<\/em>\u2014and chairs lined the dining room\u2019s edges. Tisho was sitting alone against the wall in one of these chairs, contentedly sipping a Campari spritz.<\/p>\n

Our Journalist ordered a spritz of his own. It had been a long week. He joined Tisho. They clinked glasses and sipped and looked at their fellows: Frederick and the Italian DJ who\u2019d played Linkin Park\u2019s \u201cNumb,\u201d Valen and the German who so loved Jack Daniels \u2026 Our Journalist could see why one might return to SCIJ year after year, seeing the same faces, making new memories, fighting old fights \u2026 Tisho himself had been coming for two decades.<\/p>\n

And already a new SCIJ trip was in the works: a video screened during the General Assembly had shown the international skiing journalists their next destination, the mountainous microstate of Andorra. They beheld lush green valleys and bustling modern cities; ferns and bicycles; happy diners in restaurants and happy nurses in hospitals. The video had been narrated, often with an avant-garde disconnect between image and text, by a soothingly British AI voice, which said things like \u201cAndorra is one of the best destinations in the world to live \u2026 We have never had an army or war \u2026 Furthermore, every corner of the country is connected by high-velocity fiber optic.\u201d Yes, the journalists would return to the slopes.<\/p>\n

It had been two weeks since SCIJ 2025 ended when an email appeared in the inboxes of the international skiing journalists. Although it was laden with apologies and filled with allusions to \u201cintensive efforts,\u201d the email had a stark message: the 2026 SCIJ meeting in Andorra was canceled. The email read, in part:<\/p>\n

\n

Dear colleagues and friends of SCIJ,<\/p>\n

\u2026 The Andorran stakeholders abruptly terminated negotiations on February 10th after imposing a February 21st deadline for a signed contract. This withdrawal came despite our team\u2019s intensive efforts to meet these challenging timeframes while maintaining our organization\u2019s high standards \u2026 Rest assured that we remain committed to \u2026 organizing a successful 2026 winter meeting at a new location.<\/p>\n

Sincerely,<\/p>\n

Frederick Wallace<\/p>\n

SCIJ President<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The news was not well received. The SCIJ WhatsApp chat caught fire.<\/p>\n

\n

\u201cThis is shocking!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s such a shame!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA thorough clarification is necessary, if we want SCIJ to survive.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Team Andorra sent their own thorough reply. It read, in part:<\/p>\n

\n

Dear Colleagues,<\/p>\n

We regret the distortion of facts by Mr. Wallace, his lack of seriousness in recent months, and the negative impact his actions have had. We now feel compelled to provide our version of events.<\/p>\n

Mr. Wallace and Mr. Shmitz [sic] visited Andorra for the required site inspection, with all expenses covered by the Andorran team, including a four-star hotel with a spa, all meals (some in the country\u2019s finest restaurants), ski passes, and travel connections.<\/p>\n

Since the fall of 2024, we have been requesting a draft contract to formalize the agreement.<\/p>\n

    \n
  • We asked to have it before their visit to Andorra, and they failed to deliver.<\/li>\n
  • They promised to bring it to Andorra, and they failed to deliver.<\/li>\n
  • They said we would receive it in Bardonecchia, and once again, they failed to deliver.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n

    This entire situation has led us to lose trust in his word.<\/p>\n

    We do not rule out submitting a future bid to host the event, but as long as the current president remains in office, we do not wish to risk experiencing such a negative situation again.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

    Frederick was curiously silent in the face of this message. (He declined, once again, to comment.) His second-in-command, Bruno Schmitz, was less reserved. The Belgian issued a response to the Andorrans\u2019 response:<\/p>\n

    \n

    Andorra wanted to host us in a 4-star hotel. It is true. But it would be the same hotel that all SCIJ members would be hosted [in] the year after.<\/p>\n

    Andorra brought us to two nice restaurants. It is true. But we did not ask for that.<\/p>\n

    Do you think that we are happy of this situation for us? And that we enjoy being without a meeting for next year? Do you think that the coming year will be easier for us, at the IC that way? Who is losing the most in all this?<\/p>\n

    I wish you a very good day. Now I must go back to my job as a journalist.<\/p>\n

     <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

    Noah Rawlings<\/span> is a writer and translator.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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