Our last ski weekend has come to a close, and I have very mixed feelings about it, considering I had set out to hate this sport, the very first (and thirtieth) time I fell flat on my face. But now I’ve actually come to like it a little, gasp! So I’m sad that we won’t be skiing anymore, but also happy that we won’t be skiing anymore, if that makes any sense at all.
We decided to pack into a car with a few of our friends and spend the night in the Chatel area of the Portes du Soleil, as one of the friends was able to hook all of us up with a place there for a night. The weather was beautiful (we had to take our thermals off and I skied without gloves at one point), and the skiing there was pretty good the first day, although I think I psyched myself out of the belief that I had in fact gotten better, so proceeded to fall as soon as I put my skis on. But then I realized it was in my head (it seems that skiing is as much about your mental disposition, as it is with your balance), and went on to conquer my fears of crashing into a tree (which Tyler actually did, don’t worry he’s ok), and basically made the slopes my slave. Well, I wouldn’t go that far, as I did fall a few more times, but I actually began to enjoy going fast, because I knew 
that I could semi slow myself down or stop. And the falls were more attributed to the fact that I wanted to look cool like all the other skiers and make sure my skis were parallel and close to each other at all times. I should know better than to get ahead of myself! The really fun part of the weekend though was being able to go back to the apartment, hang out on the balcony with some bubbly, and chat and laugh with good company while our dinner was cooking on the stove. And then go to sleep at 9 PM.
that I could semi slow myself down or stop. And the falls were more attributed to the fact that I wanted to look cool like all the other skiers and make sure my skis were parallel and close to each other at all times. I should know better than to get ahead of myself! The really fun part of the weekend though was being able to go back to the apartment, hang out on the balcony with some bubbly, and chat and laugh with good company while our dinner was cooking on the stove. And then go to sleep at 9 PM. The skiing on Sunday was not as good as Saturday, as the visibility was very poor from the fog, and the snow whipping around us. There was new powder, which was kinda cool, as you could hear that neat squeaky snow crunch beneath your skis, but the area we ended up going to did not have much variety and the infrastructure was not set up very well, as we had to basically cross country it from point to point, which made my knees feel like they were going to pop out of their joints. Or maybe I’m just old. On the flip side, the place we stopped to rest at had 22 flavors of hot chocolate, so we were slightly mollified. We also saw the best mullet ever, pulled off by a man who was stuck in the seventies, with his neon blue and yellow snowsuit, and we realized that mullets will never cease to make us giggle and st
are like ten year old children. Ah, mullets. Oh, and we scalped our tickets since we left the slopes around 1PM, and were able to get back ten euros each by selling our lift passes. Although it was funny to see us standing around, waving our lift pass and saying, "dix euros, dix euros." You could see the mixture of amusement/fear on some of the faces of the French. Not sure if they’ve been exposed to scalping like we Americans have.
are like ten year old children. Ah, mullets. Oh, and we scalped our tickets since we left the slopes around 1PM, and were able to get back ten euros each by selling our lift passes. Although it was funny to see us standing around, waving our lift pass and saying, "dix euros, dix euros." You could see the mixture of amusement/fear on some of the faces of the French. Not sure if they’ve been exposed to scalping like we Americans have. So we pack away our ski gear, thankful that we didn’t fall off any cliffs, but also grateful for the experience of skiing in some of the best slopes and in the shadow of some the most beautiful massifs in the world. We do look forward to some adventures that hopefully involve weather that doesn’t make the snot freeze on our nose.
Next weekend: Easter in Cinque Terre, Italy!
