Pending until May...

Daily I am asked by nosy guests what it is that I will be doing after the season. Those who live here in heaven; the French Chalet owners, shopkeepers, staff members, and the woman who says hello to me every morning, (I still don't know her name after 3 months), have refrained from asking me this childish and ignorant question. After having been hassled by embettant guests numerous times and after giving them the inarticulate look like, "This is my life, there is nothing else," my roommate, Emma, and I, have decided that my official response is that my 'real life' is pending until May. Call it brilliant, call it what you will, I have imprinted this plan into my brain, that way my worrisome and rather tweakerish mind will allow me to enjoy all that is to enjoy here. Thus, when I get asked the inevitable question concerning my future life's goals after this endeavor, I kindly let them know that I am pending until May and that they can refer to my secretary after that.

Whilst I remain here in Courchevel, I continue to eat my way through the country. And no, I am not exaggerating when I say this. My days do not revolve around skiing, in the least. My days revolve around eating. And by eating, I mean eating everything that I can get my sausage fingers on. I came on this excursion thinking that it will be like fat camp, instead I will be enrolling in one once I am done. As I live with 2 brilliant chefs, I am treated to gorgeous (yes, the Brits use this adjective when referring to food), breakfastes, lunches, dinners, afternoon teas, high teas, and lord knows what else. It has gotten to the point where the zipper on my salopettes (another fav British word of mine for ski pants), are extremely tight...so much so that my zipper has failed to stay up at times which is not conducive when I am gliding through the pow-pow or when I am chatting to hot ESF instructors. Damn cheese and pain au chocolates.

Last Thursday, our day off, the cell was turned off and 12 hours were spent away from the chalet. No calls from my boss. No calls from tea-totaling guests informing me that the tea urn had run dry. Nothing but freedom, powder, laughs, and beer. Being away from the Chalet for 12 hours is unheard of, unless you have managed to end up in a French prison and are unsuccessful at bribing the Gendarmes to let you out. I digress. Emma and I met up with our friends Jo, Aaron, Lucifer, Aver, and Nick. We spent the entire day riding the entire mountain. At about 4 pm we decided to participate in some well deserved apres. Thus, we pulled ourselves together and skied from one side of the valley to the other side. 4 hours later we were tossed and standing sans ride out front of the bus station. Apparently the last bus had just left minutes before. I know this might sound trivial to those of you in a metropolitan city, however; missing the last bus here is like getting to Taco Bell 2 minutes after it has closed. You are screwed. From what I remember, just as if we were in a movie, a nice, older, Frenchman pulled around the corner in his extra-large van (there are none to be found anywhere) and saved us. He kindly placed all of our gear in his van and proceeded to take us to our hometown so that we could continue partaking in the festivities. Grandma, her boots, 1 glove, and 2 poles, and 2 skis made it home at 11.55. It was all worth it. The next day I came down with my 3rd lung infection of the season and was out of commission for 4 days. So worth it.

On a lovely bluebird day last week, we had an hour to spare in between meetings and the usual, thus, we decided to unleash ourselves on the glorious Les Avals. Les Avals is the valley between 1650 and 1850 that houses epic off-piste terrain. Although it had not snowed for 3 days, there was no trace of that. There were fresh tracks to be had everywhere. The hike out is a strenuous half hour hike; however, every nanosecond of it is well worth it. Every time I do the valley I am convinced that I am in the Chronicles of Narnia. It truly is enchanting. The hike out is the only time that I ever turn off my iPod when skiing. This is quite a feat for anyone who has had the privilege to ski with me. I digress yet again.

Turns out that one of my geriatric guests from 2 weeks prior asked my rep Charlie if Emma and I were a couple. Apparently he was "concerned" that I kept referring to her as 'love' and 'dear' and felt it pertinent to take it upon himself to find out. Quality!

Emma and I are completely hooked on the Sex and the City DVDs. Although I have never been an avid TV watcher, I am dreading the day that we run out of episodes to watch. Watching these videos has become therapeutic for us. Whenever we have a bad day or a horrid guest experience, we turn on an episode. I am addicted. It has gotten to the point where I find myself narrating my life, just as Carrie Bradshaw does. I haven't really determined how I am going to get over this. I am open to suggestions.

I had my first visitor two weeks ago. It was my mum. She was only here for a couple of days but they were all amazing. It was great having a piece of home around, it was also great getting the chance to show her my new home and let her experience all that I experience on a daily basis. I think that in the short time she was able to see why I love this place so much. We did everything from tan in the sunk, drink, insult one of my rude Austrian guests, to having fondue for lunch and dinner one day. It was amazing and I loved every second of it. I was sad to see her go. Luckily, I am going to be granted with another visitor next week. Mr. Dan Roth is leaving his Ancona and venturing to 1650. I am looking forward to it.

Here are some pics of my February:

http://picasaweb.google.com/ohalfen/FebruaryRandomness#