Jan 9, 2008
Party time… EDIT
Waking at 7:45am to head to San Gimignano, we decided to sleep instead. So getting up at 10am instead, we headed off to see some traditional Italian markets and then it was time to relax before the night began at the Public House Bar where Dörte’s friends were throwing a ski themed party.
That' more like it
Blue skies, no clouds, sun blazing down – now this was a day to savour. So we set off for Monte Cecori where there were some hills worth climbing, more great views over the city, the site where Leonardo tried out his first flying apparatus (and promptly killed his first volunteer), more churches worth visiting, Friar housing and house bridges. Everything was worth seeing. The weather made it so.
Oh and getting a little hungry on our way home, Dörte spotted some of those cacti with the purple fruits you can eat. We sat down, munched a few and then discovered our mouths, hands, legs and arses were now full of spines. We spent the next 20 minutes (and long after too) pulling them from places I have no idea how they got into – in the mouth was the worst.
A pizza for lunch on the balcony of Florence (so named church balcony atop the hill), quick pick up of little Niccolò from kindergarten, home for a dinner of pasta and parmeson cheese and it was time for a few drinks with Lisa and Eve and another German girl Claudia who had just returned – she never actually made it though.
Couple of bottles of Tuscany wine (not actually that bad but I preferred the beer) and an assortment of delicious biscuits set for a pleasant night. We relaxed in the girls flat (three girls share one room) and passed the night talking and laughing and having some nice down time. And those girls are so nice! As were the biscuits (o;
When the night had ended I had the addresses of the two French girls with invites to stay with them in Normandy, same for the two German girls, an offer of a guided tour on Friday of the Galleria Degli Uffizi by Lisa who studies art history (I find it so much nicer when art is explained to me), a car trip around Tuscany with all four of them on the Saturday and two nights accommodation in their flat on the Friday and Saturday nights. Not a bad night all in all. And getting to tour Italy with four beautiful girls? I’m quite enjoying this country, haha.
Oh and getting a little hungry on our way home, Dörte spotted some of those cacti with the purple fruits you can eat. We sat down, munched a few and then discovered our mouths, hands, legs and arses were now full of spines. We spent the next 20 minutes (and long after too) pulling them from places I have no idea how they got into – in the mouth was the worst.
A pizza for lunch on the balcony of Florence (so named church balcony atop the hill), quick pick up of little Niccolò from kindergarten, home for a dinner of pasta and parmeson cheese and it was time for a few drinks with Lisa and Eve and another German girl Claudia who had just returned – she never actually made it though.
Couple of bottles of Tuscany wine (not actually that bad but I preferred the beer) and an assortment of delicious biscuits set for a pleasant night. We relaxed in the girls flat (three girls share one room) and passed the night talking and laughing and having some nice down time. And those girls are so nice! As were the biscuits (o;
When the night had ended I had the addresses of the two French girls with invites to stay with them in Normandy, same for the two German girls, an offer of a guided tour on Friday of the Galleria Degli Uffizi by Lisa who studies art history (I find it so much nicer when art is explained to me), a car trip around Tuscany with all four of them on the Saturday and two nights accommodation in their flat on the Friday and Saturday nights. Not a bad night all in all. And getting to tour Italy with four beautiful girls? I’m quite enjoying this country, haha.
Pasta time…
Ah Florence. Land of art, olives and, well, to be truthful I didn’t really have a clue. More fun that way. No expectations = no let downs.
Breakfast of flakes, yoghurt and fruit – oh and a proper Italian coffee (very strong!) – then we walked the city. I’m over doing just the touristy things. That’s not the real city. We walked the streets, mingled with the crowds, visited the Gothic Duomo (Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore – a big, very impressive, Dome like cathedral built in like 1300AD. Beautiful inside. I may not be very religious in that regard but I am discovering I really like being inside churches. So relaxing. So calming. So… nice), some other churches, saw a lot of awesome buildings, statues of everything and everyone (including the infamous David), and then we walked to the top of Piazzale Michelangelo from where you have an amazing vista of Florence. Or it can be amazing. For us it was ‘just’ great as the day was overcast and the view not so clear.
Lunch was bread and vegetables dipped in olive oil and salt with olives and strips of meat added for taste. Then we picked up her 1 1\2 year old Niccolò, checked emails and set off for home. We chilled here until around 7 and then set off to see some of her friends for dinner. And what a dinner it was!
Called an “aperativo”, you pay 7euro for a drink and then are given access to an all you can eat buffet of the most delicious foods! The cocktails we ordered were, to me, absolutely disgusting, but as mentioned, the food was divine. Al dant pastas of numerous varieties, fried capsicum, sausages, breads, chicken dishes, mushroom dishes, beef dishes, salads, fruits… so many I can’t even pretend to remember them all. Honestly such a nice dinner. And Dörte’s two german friends Lisa and Eve were the same. Then off home to bed.
Breakfast of flakes, yoghurt and fruit – oh and a proper Italian coffee (very strong!) – then we walked the city. I’m over doing just the touristy things. That’s not the real city. We walked the streets, mingled with the crowds, visited the Gothic Duomo (Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore – a big, very impressive, Dome like cathedral built in like 1300AD. Beautiful inside. I may not be very religious in that regard but I am discovering I really like being inside churches. So relaxing. So calming. So… nice), some other churches, saw a lot of awesome buildings, statues of everything and everyone (including the infamous David), and then we walked to the top of Piazzale Michelangelo from where you have an amazing vista of Florence. Or it can be amazing. For us it was ‘just’ great as the day was overcast and the view not so clear.
Lunch was bread and vegetables dipped in olive oil and salt with olives and strips of meat added for taste. Then we picked up her 1 1\2 year old Niccolò, checked emails and set off for home. We chilled here until around 7 and then set off to see some of her friends for dinner. And what a dinner it was!
Called an “aperativo”, you pay 7euro for a drink and then are given access to an all you can eat buffet of the most delicious foods! The cocktails we ordered were, to me, absolutely disgusting, but as mentioned, the food was divine. Al dant pastas of numerous varieties, fried capsicum, sausages, breads, chicken dishes, mushroom dishes, beef dishes, salads, fruits… so many I can’t even pretend to remember them all. Honestly such a nice dinner. And Dörte’s two german friends Lisa and Eve were the same. Then off home to bed.
Italia…
Nice ride down. After the 2 hours sleep I’d managed in the station I snoozed a lot of the way and otherwise passed the time talking to an English guy sitting opposite me who had also just come from a week’s snowboarding in Avoriaz. He even spotted me an orange, an apple, a bottle of water, some quiche and an offer to come and stay with him in Milan the next time I came. Awesome!
A switch of trains in Milan was needed too. Not the easiest of tasks it turned out. Not exactly hard, but not easy. My train was going to Florence and this was written on my ticket. The train I was catching was going, eventually, to Rome; this was shown on the departure board. Only it wasn’t even called Rome, but something else which I’d never even heard from. Noticing there was no train indicated on the departure board leaving at 5pm, I went to the information counter to ask which platform I needed.
“Bonjourno, I need a little help please”
“Hmm?”
“Can you speak English?”
“No”
“A little?”
“No, Italiano”
“Bugger”
So went my conversation at the help desk. What kind of information place can’t speak English?!
In the end I asked a lady standing by the train departure board and she pointed out the randomly designated one and so I was set. Again, nice ride down and a call to Dörte from a pay phone had me meeting her at the Mc D’s in Florence station. No problems.
We cruised home, met the family she was au pairing for and then after a quick, very cold, shower, it was time for sleep. Until 10m the next morning I think.
Famille and pasta for tea: Max: Seconds please (o:
Max: Thirds? Ok....
A switch of trains in Milan was needed too. Not the easiest of tasks it turned out. Not exactly hard, but not easy. My train was going to Florence and this was written on my ticket. The train I was catching was going, eventually, to Rome; this was shown on the departure board. Only it wasn’t even called Rome, but something else which I’d never even heard from. Noticing there was no train indicated on the departure board leaving at 5pm, I went to the information counter to ask which platform I needed.
“Bonjourno, I need a little help please”
“Hmm?”
“Can you speak English?”
“No”
“A little?”
“No, Italiano”
“Bugger”
So went my conversation at the help desk. What kind of information place can’t speak English?!
In the end I asked a lady standing by the train departure board and she pointed out the randomly designated one and so I was set. Again, nice ride down and a call to Dörte from a pay phone had me meeting her at the Mc D’s in Florence station. No problems.
We cruised home, met the family she was au pairing for and then after a quick, very cold, shower, it was time for sleep. Until 10m the next morning I think.
Famille and pasta for tea: Max: Seconds please (o:
Max: Thirds? Ok....
Where next??
From Avoriaz I had decided to head back to Germany. I was juggling between Italy to see Dörte or Germany to see Jo. I also needed to ditch my snow gear which was taking over my bag and I wouldn’t really be needing it again until Austria. And I was, in theory, heading north to England. My next agenda was Pierre’s birthday on the Isle of Mann and so I had 10 days to occupy in between.
So I caught a ride with Skiidy Gonzalez Transfers (Justin’s (Cosima’s boyfriend’s) company)) back to Geneva. From here I had found a couch to ‘surf’ on in Zurich and I would then head north back into the land of sausage and beer. Or that was the plan…
My first night I decided to spend in the airport. I was lacking a night’s accommodation in Geneva and I had yet to utilise this form of a hotel. A quick glance of google, showed there was a comfy green leather couch in the corridor leading up to “Police Frontier”; wherever that was? How hard could it be to find. Police after all should be obvious to all.
Quick goodbye to Chris and co who I had shared the transfer with and I set off, into the fading sun (or a pic of one in Thailand anyway) to find the fabled couch of G.I.A. Or again, that was the plan…
After a futile search of all four floors and heading into a state of mild heatstroke from the effort (I had kept my down jacket on throughout), I decided to go check my emails instead and rest my snow wearied legs. This was another futile search; mainly because I was being male and refusing to ask.
Eventually I found myself in the restaurant area and decided to ask a cashier guy which way I should head. I was told there was no internet at that time of night (wrong) but he nicely said I could use his computer. Only it didn’t have the internet so it turned out to be not so helpful after all. Thought that counts I guess.
So figuring the airport just wasn’t doing it for me I decided to head off to the train station to check on times for trains going to Zurich.
When I got there I found a neat little room track side which I could lock the door of and seats that verged on comfy in a not comfy at all kind of way. I now had my accommodation for the night, dinner (I had a box of raisins from Norway still and a croissant from France) and safety sorted so I settled down for sleep.
Curling up on the soft concrete bench, I began to fall into a deep dream like slumber, the sheep I had been counting grazing away happily on the green grass of the other side, only to find myself awoken by the sweet caress of a security guard barely two minutes in. Roughly snapped out of my beauty sleep, I struggled to understand what the heck this guy wanted. And what the hell was he saying? Sounded like messed up German or something?
Ah ha! Of course! This was a Swiss guy trying to speak German. They have no language of their own after all and are constantly trying, bless their little hearts, but also constantly failing, to steal the language of their neighbours.
So with my perfectly fluent French and a little English, I managed to discover we understood nothing of what each other was saying but the meaning on both sides was pretty clear - he wanted me to leave and I just wanted to sleep somewhere. Both smiling by the end of it, he escorted me to a galleria where he indicated I could pass the night away. But it wasn’t as secure feeling and so I sat on my pack and read until 4am when the station opened again and I could move back into my apartment.
Then a quick check of the emails found one from mum asking me to say hi to Dörte and one from Jo saying I should go see her as there wasn’t really much to do in Germany at the mo with him working at all. Bugger! Just when I thought I had it all figured out. Ah what the hell. I’d go to Italy.
Booked and caught a train at 11am and I was on my way.
So I caught a ride with Skiidy Gonzalez Transfers (Justin’s (Cosima’s boyfriend’s) company)) back to Geneva. From here I had found a couch to ‘surf’ on in Zurich and I would then head north back into the land of sausage and beer. Or that was the plan…
My first night I decided to spend in the airport. I was lacking a night’s accommodation in Geneva and I had yet to utilise this form of a hotel. A quick glance of google, showed there was a comfy green leather couch in the corridor leading up to “Police Frontier”; wherever that was? How hard could it be to find. Police after all should be obvious to all.
Quick goodbye to Chris and co who I had shared the transfer with and I set off, into the fading sun (or a pic of one in Thailand anyway) to find the fabled couch of G.I.A. Or again, that was the plan…
After a futile search of all four floors and heading into a state of mild heatstroke from the effort (I had kept my down jacket on throughout), I decided to go check my emails instead and rest my snow wearied legs. This was another futile search; mainly because I was being male and refusing to ask.
Eventually I found myself in the restaurant area and decided to ask a cashier guy which way I should head. I was told there was no internet at that time of night (wrong) but he nicely said I could use his computer. Only it didn’t have the internet so it turned out to be not so helpful after all. Thought that counts I guess.
So figuring the airport just wasn’t doing it for me I decided to head off to the train station to check on times for trains going to Zurich.
When I got there I found a neat little room track side which I could lock the door of and seats that verged on comfy in a not comfy at all kind of way. I now had my accommodation for the night, dinner (I had a box of raisins from Norway still and a croissant from France) and safety sorted so I settled down for sleep.
Curling up on the soft concrete bench, I began to fall into a deep dream like slumber, the sheep I had been counting grazing away happily on the green grass of the other side, only to find myself awoken by the sweet caress of a security guard barely two minutes in. Roughly snapped out of my beauty sleep, I struggled to understand what the heck this guy wanted. And what the hell was he saying? Sounded like messed up German or something?
Ah ha! Of course! This was a Swiss guy trying to speak German. They have no language of their own after all and are constantly trying, bless their little hearts, but also constantly failing, to steal the language of their neighbours.
So with my perfectly fluent French and a little English, I managed to discover we understood nothing of what each other was saying but the meaning on both sides was pretty clear - he wanted me to leave and I just wanted to sleep somewhere. Both smiling by the end of it, he escorted me to a galleria where he indicated I could pass the night away. But it wasn’t as secure feeling and so I sat on my pack and read until 4am when the station opened again and I could move back into my apartment.
Then a quick check of the emails found one from mum asking me to say hi to Dörte and one from Jo saying I should go see her as there wasn’t really much to do in Germany at the mo with him working at all. Bugger! Just when I thought I had it all figured out. Ah what the hell. I’d go to Italy.
Booked and caught a train at 11am and I was on my way.
Avoriaz
Day seven…
Woken at around 3am by Erin who was leaving today for home, I was at least able to return to dream world while she had 36 hours of flight to look forward too. And work.
Meeting up with Hans, Nina, Pernella and Ben (Imi also left with Erin), we set off for another day on the slopes. All a little groggy from the fondue, it was a funny, lazy day. We lost Pernella for a bit half way as she was feeling the fondue a little worse than the rest of us but she was back out there in the afternoon, along with Cosima, to again and as usual, finish the day on a high.
A bit of afternoon cloud led to an early finish of around 3:30pm and had us all clamouring for a warm shower and some hot chocolate. The day was still pretty perfect really but we were content and felt no need to push it on until the final lift closed. We also had our last dinner to prepare for.
Tonight we had a goodbye dinner as the next day, Chris, her friends and myself were all to leave. A salmon salad went down perfect and a great night was had by all.
Day Eight…
Today I woke at around 9am perhaps and packed. Then it was a lazy day, waiting for the shuttle at 5pm and sorting out where I would head next. Germany was winning in the stacks so far and a tour through Switzerland to get there was looking promising.
Woken at around 3am by Erin who was leaving today for home, I was at least able to return to dream world while she had 36 hours of flight to look forward too. And work.
Meeting up with Hans, Nina, Pernella and Ben (Imi also left with Erin), we set off for another day on the slopes. All a little groggy from the fondue, it was a funny, lazy day. We lost Pernella for a bit half way as she was feeling the fondue a little worse than the rest of us but she was back out there in the afternoon, along with Cosima, to again and as usual, finish the day on a high.
A bit of afternoon cloud led to an early finish of around 3:30pm and had us all clamouring for a warm shower and some hot chocolate. The day was still pretty perfect really but we were content and felt no need to push it on until the final lift closed. We also had our last dinner to prepare for.
Tonight we had a goodbye dinner as the next day, Chris, her friends and myself were all to leave. A salmon salad went down perfect and a great night was had by all.
Day Eight…
Today I woke at around 9am perhaps and packed. Then it was a lazy day, waiting for the shuttle at 5pm and sorting out where I would head next. Germany was winning in the stacks so far and a tour through Switzerland to get there was looking promising.
Say cheeeese! Oh, wait, say fromaaage!
Three flavours of runny cheese in a pot, a basket of bite sized stale breads, a platter oozing with meats and pickles, and a few funny little pointy forks and we were away.
You grab your fork, pierce a bread lump, twirl it in the cheese, deposit it on your plate, grab your other fork, stick a piece of meat, re-stick the cheesy bread lump (don’t I make it sound yummy?) and with perhaps a pickle added for good measure, you stuff the gob sized lot in your mouth and voila! The bread glides down your throat on a swirl of liquid fat chased by a boisterous pickle clamouring to get in on the action. And there it all sits. Sits and waits. And it stays here, well into the next day, where you feel it sitting in the base of your stomach like a cheese ballast weight, holding you down as you make each of those beautiful curved turns so that they end up being more of a zigzag shape.
But it was worth it. That’s why we ate so much of it! Once a month though for me. Tops. Rich is an understatement and I’m not sure what my heart would say.
You grab your fork, pierce a bread lump, twirl it in the cheese, deposit it on your plate, grab your other fork, stick a piece of meat, re-stick the cheesy bread lump (don’t I make it sound yummy?) and with perhaps a pickle added for good measure, you stuff the gob sized lot in your mouth and voila! The bread glides down your throat on a swirl of liquid fat chased by a boisterous pickle clamouring to get in on the action. And there it all sits. Sits and waits. And it stays here, well into the next day, where you feel it sitting in the base of your stomach like a cheese ballast weight, holding you down as you make each of those beautiful curved turns so that they end up being more of a zigzag shape.
But it was worth it. That’s why we ate so much of it! Once a month though for me. Tops. Rich is an understatement and I’m not sure what my heart would say.
Avoriaz
Day Five…
With fresh thighs, Erin and I set off at 10am to meet Pernella and co for another great day of skiing. Every day had new runs hit and with our faithful guides showing the way, we could enjoy the scenery, focus on not crashing at the hair raising speeds these guys skied at, and let our minds enter into sheep mode, not having to think about which run would lead towards home or what colour socks to wear the next day…
The weather stayed good all week, a little cloud cover as the week wore on but otherwise sweet. As our skills improved, Pernella (our new guide as Cosima had had to go back to work) took us to new routes and today we were joined by her boyfriend Ben and Hans and Nina again who spent the remaining days on the slopes with us.
Thankfully, they were all as patient as a sloth on summer holiday and waited at the top of each lift for me to strap into my board with never a peep of protest heard. And they were always there to lend me a pole if the going got too flat as well. And boy was they funny! Had me smiling all week and loving every minute of being up on the slopes!
Skiing aside though, dinner was probably the highlight of the day. Being in France, it would have been rude not to try some Fondue. And it was, well, fonduey.
With fresh thighs, Erin and I set off at 10am to meet Pernella and co for another great day of skiing. Every day had new runs hit and with our faithful guides showing the way, we could enjoy the scenery, focus on not crashing at the hair raising speeds these guys skied at, and let our minds enter into sheep mode, not having to think about which run would lead towards home or what colour socks to wear the next day…
The weather stayed good all week, a little cloud cover as the week wore on but otherwise sweet. As our skills improved, Pernella (our new guide as Cosima had had to go back to work) took us to new routes and today we were joined by her boyfriend Ben and Hans and Nina again who spent the remaining days on the slopes with us.
Thankfully, they were all as patient as a sloth on summer holiday and waited at the top of each lift for me to strap into my board with never a peep of protest heard. And they were always there to lend me a pole if the going got too flat as well. And boy was they funny! Had me smiling all week and loving every minute of being up on the slopes!
Skiing aside though, dinner was probably the highlight of the day. Being in France, it would have been rude not to try some Fondue. And it was, well, fonduey.
Spewing in the New Year
Can we kiwis drink? Was I asked this? I like to think so. Gives some sort of sad reasoning as to why I did what I did to myself.
Cosima, Justin, my sister and I joined Chris and her friends for New Years. I knew drinking games were going down so I started pushing for them early. I didn't want an all at once drinking session. Nicer when it is spread out I reckon. So we began shortly after dinner. AB... did we play any others? Anyway, when we hit off for town I was happy but not wasted and I slipped in a couple of beers for town into my jeans. When we got to the club I downed these and was pretty good for a night out. Not sure on the others but am guessing they were all good too.
Then drinks started coming in. I'd taken no money out and I'm not sure where they all came from but I know Chris bought up. Shots (Cock sucking cowboys maybe?) and beer were there all night. We'd also had champagne, cida, wine and beer back in the flat so avoiding the mixing of drinks was not gonna happen.
But I remember drinking up. I remember pouring my beer out into other people's glasses to avoid drinking it but them seeing me and making me drink it all anyways. I even remember going outside the club to throw up in the snow and then walking back in and being given another drink. By now I think I had gone from happy to wasted, skipping drunk on the way.
I don't remember going home. Chris walked me. Says I wouldn't stay there but kept saying i wanted to go out again and then I jammed my finger in the door (nail is still black a month later with little blood spots all over the fleshy part too).
(pics of finger)
I woke up to find I had thrown up on my sleeping bag. In 23 years, including four at university and 8 months of travelling, I'd never managed that before. Bugger! Not a great start to the year. Missed out on the next day of snow. Missed out on feeling great about New Years. Hell, I pretty much missed out on New Years, remembering little of the night at all but I do remember the count down.
My new years resolution - If I don't want a drink, man up and say so!
Cosima, Justin, my sister and I joined Chris and her friends for New Years. I knew drinking games were going down so I started pushing for them early. I didn't want an all at once drinking session. Nicer when it is spread out I reckon. So we began shortly after dinner. AB... did we play any others? Anyway, when we hit off for town I was happy but not wasted and I slipped in a couple of beers for town into my jeans. When we got to the club I downed these and was pretty good for a night out. Not sure on the others but am guessing they were all good too.
Then drinks started coming in. I'd taken no money out and I'm not sure where they all came from but I know Chris bought up. Shots (Cock sucking cowboys maybe?) and beer were there all night. We'd also had champagne, cida, wine and beer back in the flat so avoiding the mixing of drinks was not gonna happen.
But I remember drinking up. I remember pouring my beer out into other people's glasses to avoid drinking it but them seeing me and making me drink it all anyways. I even remember going outside the club to throw up in the snow and then walking back in and being given another drink. By now I think I had gone from happy to wasted, skipping drunk on the way.
I don't remember going home. Chris walked me. Says I wouldn't stay there but kept saying i wanted to go out again and then I jammed my finger in the door (nail is still black a month later with little blood spots all over the fleshy part too).
(pics of finger)
I woke up to find I had thrown up on my sleeping bag. In 23 years, including four at university and 8 months of travelling, I'd never managed that before. Bugger! Not a great start to the year. Missed out on the next day of snow. Missed out on feeling great about New Years. Hell, I pretty much missed out on New Years, remembering little of the night at all but I do remember the count down.
My new years resolution - If I don't want a drink, man up and say so!
Avoriaz
Where to start for such a perfect week. In fact, Avoriaz could be summed up simply as “Perfect”. But I think that wouldn’t quite satisfy you back home?
In chronological order then…
Day One…
I caught a train up from Milano, through and around the Bergamo Alps and the views were spectacular. Up behind Mount Blanc especially.
The train ride ended at the Geneva station though and so I still needed to find my way to the airport. I had been talking to a German guy and a Ukrainian girl on the way and a swiss girl had overheard me at the station saying I was headed for the airport.
Emanuel, “Hello? Do you think I could follow you to the airport? I’ve only been there once before and I don’t really know the way.”
“Ah, no problem” I replied, “Follow me. Been there dozens of times myself”
This set the other two off in fits of giggles as they knew it was my first time in Europe. So with a confused looking Swiss girl shadowing along beside me, I waved them goodbye and set off, acting confident, to figure out which way to the airport. Took all of 3 seconds in the end; there was a train directly across from us stating ‘Geneva Airport’ on its side. What a pro (o:
In the airport after a tough and teary goodbye to such an old friend, I wandered down to arrivals and there Erin was, sitting serenely on a chair in the middle of all the crowds. Stood out for some reason. Then after a bit of looking around, we found our driver (he was wearing a big sombrero) and made our departure for Avoriaz.
On arrival we met Cosima’s boyfriend Justin at his work and he kindly drove us up to the apartment he and Cosima shared. It was here that Erin and I would be gate crashing for the next few days. We walked in on a road of snow flanked by rooftops thick with Christmas icing and window frames aglow with candle light promoting the end of the Christmas season. One horse open sleighs glided past as we walked through the town (simply no cars allowed) and the last of the day’s warmth was just beginning to be replaced by the silver shadow of night.
Justin and Erin arriving and walking to Cosima's flat in Avoriaz...
A quick hello to Cosima it was almost time for bed as Erin and I were both quite knackered from the travels. We also met Justin’s sister Chris(tine) who was staying the night too, waiting on six of her friends to arrive for new years for which they had hired another apartment.
Day Two…
We awoke around 9am I think. Went and hired our gear from one of Cosima’s friends and then grabbed a week’s lift pass. Now it was time for the slopes. A few shaky turns and some wobbly, arms wide, falling leaf manoeuvres out of the way, and both Erin and I found the skiing and boarding skills returning quite quickly.
Thus started a day of perfect snow conditions, blue blue sky, zero wind and a serious lack of crowds. Majority of people arrive and leave on the Saturday and so spend the day preparing for the coming week or packing to leave; leaving the slopes pleasantly bare for us.
And the day was as perfect as the conditions. Cosima, Chris and some of Co’s friends Pernillea (Danish girl) and Imi (English girl) who joined us later on ensured fun times were had and, for a bunch of skiers, Chris and I reckon they weren’t half bad.
Lunch was a hamburger on the mountain though whoever taught the French how to make them, needs to try again. My hamburger (I know, shouldn’t be ordering American fare in France in the first place) consisted of a meat patty with an egg on top. No bun, no bread, only an order of fries and a sausage on the side. But it tasted dang good and that’s what counts.
End of the day came and went, a nice home made dinner of wedges, stuffed chicken and salad was eaten, bed was made ready (we had shifted Chris off to her next port of call, earning me a couch and a beer on New Years for the help) and then after some small talk we dozed off, dreaming of the days yet to come.
Day Three…
Today Chris headed off with her friends from England, Cosima went back to work and so Erin and I headed off for a day of exploration. Another good day of nice snow; especially in the morning and the sky looked promising.
So our exploration began with a decision to try and ski (and board) from one country to another. From France to Switzerland. Avoriaz is a truly awesome ski field. Encompassing two countries, it has 40 lifts and hundreds of runs. In a week I managed barely a quarter of them.
A few runs later and we found ourselves at the France\Swiss border. Time for some illegal border crossing; only it’s legal so that was much harder then it sounds. On the swiss side we completed a real mix of runs, constantly heading down the mountain with the intention of returning to France around noon to meet up with Chris and co for the afternoon. Never happended.
We got utterly lost at the bottom of possibly the most poorly designed run ever. For a snowboarder anyway. It traversed for ages through a corridor of trees, probably beautiful and relaxing if seen on skiis, but for a snowboarder it meant twenty minutes or so of standing on one board edge, toes sliding and crushing into your boot front, straps digging in to your feet, while you wait for the snail paced, edge catching, trail to enter into some downward angle once more. Only it never does. Then, to top it all off, at the bottom of the run we find there is a serious lack of lifts back to Avoriaz and so it was a walk through town to find another lift that headed, kind of, towards home.
Jump off this one and another half an hour of skiing passes (we’re already 2 hours late for our lunch ‘date’ to meet the others) and we find we are still way off course and now seem to be heading back to where we found ourselves stranded before. One of my bindings had also seized up with ice going up a drag lift, leaving me to believe it was broken and so I rode for a bit on one. Patience was, to put it nicely, wearing thin at times with the sister. Pity, was still a beautiful day – in the French Alps! So a few more lifts later and as we couldn’t follow instructions to save ourselves, we eventually found ourselves at a bus stop from where we could catch a lift back to Avoriaz. Phew! We were told it was possibly the furthest from Avoriaz you could go!
So we climb on the bus and what the?! We run into Pernella and Imi! Yay! We’re saved. And so we spent the remaining part of the afternoon following them home. They in turn were following two of their friends, Hans and Nina, who were part of a Danish tour group which consisted of 3 instructors and maybe 9 other Danes who whizzed down the mountain, leaving Erin and I gasping for breath at the end of each run. But they took us home, showed us some more of the mountain, pushed us in a nice way and helped end the day on a high that lasted all week.
This was also new years day and so knowing we were in for what was probably to become a big night, we stopped a little early at around 3:30pm. We had skipped lunch though and so had been on the mountain for a solid 6 hours or so of riding.
Day Four…
Today I had a rest day. To let my thighs recover a little. A slight alcoholic aftertaste may also have contributed somewhat to the day’s inactivity…
In chronological order then…
Day One…
I caught a train up from Milano, through and around the Bergamo Alps and the views were spectacular. Up behind Mount Blanc especially.
The train ride ended at the Geneva station though and so I still needed to find my way to the airport. I had been talking to a German guy and a Ukrainian girl on the way and a swiss girl had overheard me at the station saying I was headed for the airport.
Emanuel, “Hello? Do you think I could follow you to the airport? I’ve only been there once before and I don’t really know the way.”
“Ah, no problem” I replied, “Follow me. Been there dozens of times myself”
This set the other two off in fits of giggles as they knew it was my first time in Europe. So with a confused looking Swiss girl shadowing along beside me, I waved them goodbye and set off, acting confident, to figure out which way to the airport. Took all of 3 seconds in the end; there was a train directly across from us stating ‘Geneva Airport’ on its side. What a pro (o:
In the airport after a tough and teary goodbye to such an old friend, I wandered down to arrivals and there Erin was, sitting serenely on a chair in the middle of all the crowds. Stood out for some reason. Then after a bit of looking around, we found our driver (he was wearing a big sombrero) and made our departure for Avoriaz.
On arrival we met Cosima’s boyfriend Justin at his work and he kindly drove us up to the apartment he and Cosima shared. It was here that Erin and I would be gate crashing for the next few days. We walked in on a road of snow flanked by rooftops thick with Christmas icing and window frames aglow with candle light promoting the end of the Christmas season. One horse open sleighs glided past as we walked through the town (simply no cars allowed) and the last of the day’s warmth was just beginning to be replaced by the silver shadow of night.
Justin and Erin arriving and walking to Cosima's flat in Avoriaz...
A quick hello to Cosima it was almost time for bed as Erin and I were both quite knackered from the travels. We also met Justin’s sister Chris(tine) who was staying the night too, waiting on six of her friends to arrive for new years for which they had hired another apartment.
Day Two…
We awoke around 9am I think. Went and hired our gear from one of Cosima’s friends and then grabbed a week’s lift pass. Now it was time for the slopes. A few shaky turns and some wobbly, arms wide, falling leaf manoeuvres out of the way, and both Erin and I found the skiing and boarding skills returning quite quickly.
Thus started a day of perfect snow conditions, blue blue sky, zero wind and a serious lack of crowds. Majority of people arrive and leave on the Saturday and so spend the day preparing for the coming week or packing to leave; leaving the slopes pleasantly bare for us.
And the day was as perfect as the conditions. Cosima, Chris and some of Co’s friends Pernillea (Danish girl) and Imi (English girl) who joined us later on ensured fun times were had and, for a bunch of skiers, Chris and I reckon they weren’t half bad.
Lunch was a hamburger on the mountain though whoever taught the French how to make them, needs to try again. My hamburger (I know, shouldn’t be ordering American fare in France in the first place) consisted of a meat patty with an egg on top. No bun, no bread, only an order of fries and a sausage on the side. But it tasted dang good and that’s what counts.
End of the day came and went, a nice home made dinner of wedges, stuffed chicken and salad was eaten, bed was made ready (we had shifted Chris off to her next port of call, earning me a couch and a beer on New Years for the help) and then after some small talk we dozed off, dreaming of the days yet to come.
Day Three…
Today Chris headed off with her friends from England, Cosima went back to work and so Erin and I headed off for a day of exploration. Another good day of nice snow; especially in the morning and the sky looked promising.
So our exploration began with a decision to try and ski (and board) from one country to another. From France to Switzerland. Avoriaz is a truly awesome ski field. Encompassing two countries, it has 40 lifts and hundreds of runs. In a week I managed barely a quarter of them.
A few runs later and we found ourselves at the France\Swiss border. Time for some illegal border crossing; only it’s legal so that was much harder then it sounds. On the swiss side we completed a real mix of runs, constantly heading down the mountain with the intention of returning to France around noon to meet up with Chris and co for the afternoon. Never happended.
We got utterly lost at the bottom of possibly the most poorly designed run ever. For a snowboarder anyway. It traversed for ages through a corridor of trees, probably beautiful and relaxing if seen on skiis, but for a snowboarder it meant twenty minutes or so of standing on one board edge, toes sliding and crushing into your boot front, straps digging in to your feet, while you wait for the snail paced, edge catching, trail to enter into some downward angle once more. Only it never does. Then, to top it all off, at the bottom of the run we find there is a serious lack of lifts back to Avoriaz and so it was a walk through town to find another lift that headed, kind of, towards home.
Jump off this one and another half an hour of skiing passes (we’re already 2 hours late for our lunch ‘date’ to meet the others) and we find we are still way off course and now seem to be heading back to where we found ourselves stranded before. One of my bindings had also seized up with ice going up a drag lift, leaving me to believe it was broken and so I rode for a bit on one. Patience was, to put it nicely, wearing thin at times with the sister. Pity, was still a beautiful day – in the French Alps! So a few more lifts later and as we couldn’t follow instructions to save ourselves, we eventually found ourselves at a bus stop from where we could catch a lift back to Avoriaz. Phew! We were told it was possibly the furthest from Avoriaz you could go!
So we climb on the bus and what the?! We run into Pernella and Imi! Yay! We’re saved. And so we spent the remaining part of the afternoon following them home. They in turn were following two of their friends, Hans and Nina, who were part of a Danish tour group which consisted of 3 instructors and maybe 9 other Danes who whizzed down the mountain, leaving Erin and I gasping for breath at the end of each run. But they took us home, showed us some more of the mountain, pushed us in a nice way and helped end the day on a high that lasted all week.
This was also new years day and so knowing we were in for what was probably to become a big night, we stopped a little early at around 3:30pm. We had skipped lunch though and so had been on the mountain for a solid 6 hours or so of riding.
Day Four…
Today I had a rest day. To let my thighs recover a little. A slight alcoholic aftertaste may also have contributed somewhat to the day’s inactivity…
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