The first time I looked down a ski run in China, I thought to myself: "This is not what I'm here for." I did not expect to hit the slopes for at least a year and had left my snowboard at home in Singapore.

But thanks to a company weekend trip, there I was in Nanshan, one of the top ski resorts near Beijing.

As all serious skiers and snowboarders know, once the season starts, the rush is unstoppable. But, while the addiction is universal, no ski resorts in any country are alike.

On my second visit I found myself walking along poplar-lined dirt roads and brown farmland that led to glaring-white ski slopes on barren hills.

SUVs and minivans zoomed by, past donkey carts. I walked alongside a 72-year-old farmer, trudging on the roadside shouldering a bundle of branches double his height. "It's windy today, huh," he muttered.

The fringes of ski resorts in Japan entice holidaymakers with chicken yakitori shops and in South Korea there are barbecued pork belly restaurants, but just below Nanshan the local grocery store had knock-off ski gloves and a hut selling chili oil noodles for 5 yuan.

Once I passed the iron gates I found the lift ticket counter staff did not bother dishing up a thorough explanation of the available packages in the way employees did for me in the United States or Canada. Then again, with such bargain prices compared with other countries, I could not complain.

I paid, got my tickets and shouted my way to the counter to rent some gear. There were no roundabout rules or baffling procedures, like Japan.

I was greeted by a group of red-clad personnel, whom I discovered were ski instructors. Hassle-free instruction in Chinese on warming up and tumbling safely cost 240 yuan ($33) for two hours.

There were other differences. One of the most pleasant things about snowboarding in Japan - other than guaranteed powder snow - is the sound of J-pop music from the lift tower speakers. Others might disagree, but I think it gives the place a carnival atmosphere.

Here, it was the usual safety warnings on ski lifts. There were some interesting conversations, however, including one about a famous Chinese film director who had been busted for designer drugs.

On the intermediate and advanced slopes in Nanshan, the South Korean snowboarder is king. Ski instructor Liu Qianqian, a 26-year-old Harbin native who has been teaching at the resort for more than two years, said most of the proficient boarders and skiers are South Korean students.

The waits at the lifts and the crowds on the slopes, however, were bearable when compared with the numbers thronging popular South Korean spots.

Even so, Liu said the number of visitors to Nanshan has been falling because the options for a short ski getaway from Beijing are piling up. There are at least 10 spots to choose from. Equally, perhaps, more Beijingers are checking out the northeast highlands.

Snowboarder Zhang Min, from Beijing, took up the sport in high school a year ago and often sneaks off to Nanshan to perfect her carved turns. Her Nanshan experiences have whetted her appetite for pistes in far-off lands.

"My first choice would be Europe, the Swiss or Austrian Alps. Then the US. Snowboarding in a foreign place is part of the fun," the 17-year-old said.

For now, Nanshan strikes a nice balance for me. Even as the more savvy head north for better snow, this is a satisfying day trip from Beijing.

Even better you can stretch it to a weekend if you can take the Monday morning muscle aches. The resort has log cabins and villas where you can choose from "Finnish" or "Norwegian" - and as every skier or boarder knows, the aprs ski can be just as thrilling as the skiing itself.

For more information, see www.nanshanski.com.

(China Daily January 17, 2008)