Apres ski

Last week saw the long awaited "Sarah And Fi Go Skiing In France Adventure". There were initial doubts as to how the holiday would evolve. I think I started checking the resort's snow reports sometime back in November 2004, as I eagerly anticipated freshly powdered slopes. I became increasingly worried as it became clear that it had not snowed since 25 January and didnt show any signs that it intended to do so. I was distraught. Not so much because I'm a snow snob, repulsed by the mere glint of ice patches on the pistes - no, rather I am Incrediable Clumsy and somewhat "enthusiastic" in my snowboarding abilities. This is a round-about way of saying that in the past I have spent more time on my bottom doing my best impression of a snowball, than my preferred vision of me as a super cool freestyling snowboarder. And basically, landing on ice hurts. Alot. So, trying my best to keep my pouting bottom lip wobble under control, I did the next best thing I could think of - and covered every conceivable part of my body with armour. The piece de resistance being armour plated shorts (which gave a whole new meaning to "does my bum look big in this?"). Fantastic! Armour Plated Fi was now ready for whatever the slopes threw at her - I felt like some sort of Winter Sports Action Man figure crossed with Mr Blobby. Brilliant! So naturally, whatever fear and trepidation that I would usually have, when faced with sheer slopes of ice, disappeared completely, leaving me to be even more "enthusiastic" and reckless than usual. This meant that within the week I had mastered the art of jumping - and not only that - jumping AND landing!! ..sometimes even on my feet!!! Not content with mere straight forward jumping and landing combinations, I even attempted some 180s... much to the amusement of just about anyone who passed by.

Snowboarding successes aside, the general holiday got an all round Thumbs Up from us. The resort of Risoul was unpretentious and accessible, something which other French resorts don't seem to value, in favour of affluence and arrogance. This was my kind of place. Cheap and cheerful. There was a very continental feel to the whole place - possibly given that we were indeed on the continent and surrounded by continentals. Without wanting to come across as an over-generalising xenophobe (indeed, I think Britain should just stop with all the procrastinating and go ahead and fully embrace EU membership, and currency, and, with any luck, licencing hours), I made some generalisations of a xenophobic nature whilst I was there. These are as follows:

The Belgians: of which there were many, more so than you could shake a waffle at. Far from being the fence-straddling bores of Europe, they were actually the culprits responsible for our being kept awake late into the night (well, I use the word "late" in the loosest possible sense seeing as we were generally in bed by 9pm), with the singing and drinking, drinking and singing. Those crazy Belgians. They were indeed a jolly bunch of drunks. But very friendly. And ever the diplomats - being the first and only people to pity and befriend me in my mostly French speaking snowboard classes. The Belgians - friendly, loud drunks, and mediators to the end.

The English: and by "English" I mean anyone who originates from inside The British Isles, which, apparently, according to everyone outside of The British Isles, is one and the same thing. We didn't meet too many of these actually. The ones we did meet were school trips of spotty adolescents who all seemed more impressed by their new found ability to buy Stella legally, than with the whole ski experience ..and their fatigued teachers, who also seemed more taken with their ability to buy Stella, and so I presume absolve any responsibility for afore mentioned kids. Who could blame them really?

The French: now everyone has a go at the French, and I don't want to be obvious and follow suit, but I must say they do make it difficult by being so darn ...French! But you can excuse them their aloof nature really. Us Brits should make more of an effort to speak the language and not assume that they should speak English just because everyone else in the whole world does. I am a very lazy linguist. I took French classes until I was 16, and I like to think I was very good and could hold my own. But that was 9 years ago now, and there has been no incentive to keep up these skills. Instead I find that by looking like you are struggling enough, smiling innocently, and being obviously confused, sooner or later someone would cave in or come to the rescue. I am not proud of this laziness, but it doesnt help me the fact I have my own pocket sized personal translator in the form of my Belgian girlfriend, Sarah, who can be whipped out at a moments notice, quicker than you can say "je ne comprend pas, je suis englais". Why have a dog and bark yourself right? ..Not that I would ever refer to Sarah as anything even remotely canine-like of course ;)