spent a ski weekend in france, with myself, j, kerryn, tracey, and chris, which was just unbelievable. we left early friday morning, arriving in toulouse around 10, hired a car, and drove about 120 km to saint lary, at the foot of the pyrenees on the france/spain border. we dropped our stuff at the hostel we were staying at, and headed straight for the slopes, eager to try snowboarding for the first time.
the first mission was hiring equipment. the ski resort, like the region itself, was not actually much of a tourist destination, and although most everyone spoke fluent french and spanish, no one spoke a single word of english. our rather hilarious form of communication for the weekend, therefore, was pieced together from the smattering of french chris and i knew, and my extremely rusty spanish, and mostly consisted of bastardized spanglish, franglish, spench (an advanced technique combining spanish and french in the same sentence), and terribly bad mime. ddding to the mayhem, since the resort was purely for locals, there were few amenities for novices (like clothing hire, or lockers) and trying to decide if we rode “regulaire” or “goofy”, our french shoe sizes, and navigating unfamiliar protocols, made for many moments of unintentional hilarity.
after managing to hire equipment, get tickets, and suit up (looking extremely dorky in our totally unpractical jeans), we decided to take a crack at practicing ourselves before our tutorial lesson. on the low end of the nursery slope, we struggled to stand without having our feet fly out from underneath us, squealed in terror when we actually started moving, and either stopped by plopping down in a most undignified manner, or embarrassingly took out small villages of innocent bystanders before crashing into netting/trees/the carpark below.
finally, it was time for our lesson. our instructor, bless him, had massive reserves of patience, but a miniscule english vocabulary bank. which meant that he mainly had to resort to infinite repetition of a few key phrases to try to get his point across (”you must tuuuurrrrnn de bodie, and press wit you knee”, “look where you going, and flexxx”, “not turn de bird, but turrrrnnnn de bodie”). to his much-earned credit, he did managed to impart the very basics, keep a straight face as we fell time and time again on the button lift, and save the lives of several small toddlers on the hill, as we hurtled helplessly toward the petrified little cherubs.
after a humiliating, yet entertaining afternoon on the hill, we headed for the hostel, for a much needed hot shower (most of us now wearing baggy-assed sopping wet jeans) and some dinner.
the hostel itself was warm and welcoming, with an “our home is your home” philosophy, and a familial, communal feel. the rooms were warm and clean, the kitchen open to anyone at any hour, hearty group dinners with flowing wine and plenty of conversation, a lounge/bar for playing games or just relaxing after a long day on the slopes, and an open, trusting honour system for just about everything.
after a big dinner of soup and salad, fish and rice, wine and cheese, coffee and lychee fruit, we relaxed with a few beers and some rousing ping pong, before hitting the sack and falling immediately unconscious.
awoke the next morning just in time for the tail end of breakfast (bowls of café au lait, bread and jam, fresh fruit), put together some meat and cheese sandwiches on crusty bread for our lunch, and headed off for a second day on the slopes, stopping at a flea market along the way to buy some much-needed waterproof pants, and some gigantic “muffins”.
this time, we went to a second ski station in the same cluster, with more green slopes, plenty of practice space, and more services. after finally getting ourselves together, kitted out, and on the snow, we spent a few hours trying to master the tow rope and control a backside turn, we braved the chair lift leading to a much longer and steeper slope. it was quickly apparent that we had overestimated our skills, but we persisted, no matter how often we wiped out coming off the lift, how much our thighs burned from having to seesaw our long way down back-side, how many spectacular head-over-heels cartwheels we did. taking a short lunch break, we went again and again and again. i got really frustrated. baby slopes which i could easily do on skis, were a trial on a snowboard, and i was wishing wholeheartedly i had taken up the sport at 19, when i could bounce back with more spring. after initially feeling like it was coming naturally to me on the first day, i spent most of the second day slamming violently down at speed down on my coccyx. i got hot and sweaty, then cold. my joints felt like those of a 90 year old. i would pick up speed and relax into a turn, only to suddenly catch an edge and plow face-first into the snow. i forgot everything i had learned, and my co-ordination got worse as the day went on. in the last hour before the lifts closed, i took one melodramatic spill where my brain rattled and hat went flying off my head, leaving me having to perilously scramble/slide after it. it was at that point i decided i had had enough, and stormed off to the car (as much as one can storm in severe pain) to wait for the others to finish.
once everyone had re-assembled and told their most victoriously death-defying stories from the day, we headed into saint lary, where we decided to browse around the village bit, buying knicknacks, and eventually ended up having a big leisurely spanish dinner of paella and beer. finally arriving back at the hostel, we showered and headed to the bar, to have some spanish red wine and play yahtzee late into the evening.
the next morning we were up and packed early, passing around ibuprofen to stave off the worst of the aches and pains. after coffee and breakfast, we went back to the same slope, this time managing to hire better equipment (quick-release bindings!) and get out on the snow with a minimum of fuss. after a bit, we were all feeling a lot more confident – we headed for some longer and steeper runs, and had a bit of adrenaline rush going. i finally managed to lick my turns (so that instead of seesawing, i could now “carve” a bit), even managing to finally get the hang of the kick-turn move, and inordinately proud of myself for mastering something i had struggle so hard with. after that, it was soooo much more enjoyable – fewer falls, more control, less frustration, more pleasure. at our late lunch (crusty sandwiches, fruit and biscuits), however, it became apparent that chris had manage to really hurt himself, wrenching an ankle badly, and unable to continue. sadly, he had to retire to the car, while the rest of us tried to get in some last runs before leaving. eventually, reticently, we had to collect ourselves to go, so we returned the boards, picked up our bags from the hostel, settled accounts (the totals being amazingly cheap!), and headed for the airport.
after a surprisingly smooth journey home, i wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, only to discover instead, that whilst we were away, raging windstorms had slammed open our bedroom balcony door, smashing it, and leaving the room covered in glass and open to the elements. a disheartening end to the holiday, to be sure.
all in all, however, it was an incredible weekend, with gorgeous weather, lots of laughs and good times, and great friends. although my body is much battered and worse for the wear (beaten knees and elbows, arthritic joints, whiplashed neck and a bruise the size of a grapefruit on my tailbone – i feel like i’ve been through a tumbledryer full of rocks) it was a wonderfully fun trip.
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