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I caught the ski bug at 43. It’s not as if I had never been on the slopes. But, having been deposited atop a mogulled run at Alta by a boyfriend in my 20’s (he whizzed down leaving me to descend by rump), I felt fairly certain that powder was best enjoyed on a doughnut.  Then a girlfriend invited me to Park City. Instead of being coaxed into too-difficult terrain, we took lessons with an affable...

Tulum? Maui? Tokyo? This was my hot list a few weeks ago when I blinked and realized that winter break was breathing down my neck. And, I had planned zilch. Within an hour, I discovered that “sure thing” destinations -ski resorts with perma-powder, foolproof beach getaways (Hawaii, Mexico, St Bart’s) and most things international. were off the table. Even with connections, flights were ridiculously expensive. Award seats nonexistent, leaving stragglers like me in the...