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Spring is knocking at the door. And that's a good thing. Not just for our olive trees and my father-in-law's vegetable garden. But also for the relationship between me and my Tuscan native. It's a good relationship, but the endless snow of this winter got it close to breaking point. With a winter like this one, it all comes down to genes and cultural background.

All that frozen water provided material for epic misunderstandings. Like when I said: "Why don't you go outside and play with the kids in the snow. You'll see it's plenty of fun!" I really thought the man would enjoy himself. Remember the fun of all those snowball battles and the endless hours spent building lovely snowmen? Looking out of the window, what I saw instead was this: 

Basketball in a snowstorm, Tuscany winter 2012

I'd say this picture makes it obvious why basketball never qualified for the winter Olympics. Not that he could see my point. Luckily the day after we were snowed in to such a degree, that not even Magic Johnson himself dared to propose another game of it to the kids. 

Nevertheless he insisted in liberating the court...

whilst the Swiss part of the family inaugurated the slopes in the olive grove.

I'm normally not into screaming. Like a true Swiss I've learnt skiing before walking. So give me any slope. But I obviously didn't learn skiing in an olive grove. You try getting around those trees on an improvised bob without ending up in your father-in-law's compost heap...

P.s. Don't tell my Tuscan native, but my home country's inventions definitely got the thumbs-up from our kids: Swiss free-style-bobbing-down-the-grove won 10 to 0 against Tuscan winter-basketball. 

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