BEADS SKIS! 2 weeks to go: A kind of conclusion.

At 24, you may think that taking the opportunity to move to France and work as a cleaner for a while is not that big a step. For those who know me, the fact that an idea like that could ever fit into my fat complex brain is a miracle in itself. When I accepted the job in Val d'Isere I hadn't a clue what I was getting myself into, though I knew what I was trying to get myself out of. 

I definitely escaped the monotony of life at home and launched myself - to the dismay of my parents/grandparents/everyone ever - into the unknown. A serious skiing accident at the age of 18 meant I had tried to erase every ski-related thing out of my mind; I never thought I'd ski again. Therefore, choosing to do a ski season was a bit mental, hmm?

During the first few weeks I hated every minute on the mountain. I'd look out of the window in the morning and think 'today, I can do this…' but as soon as I had my skis on I stiffened up and the memories kept flooding back. I strapped my helmet on so tight some days it was difficult to breathe and the skin on my throat would be raw. I had such a sore lower back because I stuck my bum out so much. IDEAL.

After a miserable afternoon on the piste the return to work was a chore. Long hours, boring work and little motivation. I found myself yearning for a drink not only for enjoyment or in preparation for a night out but to simply be able to relax and unwind. I needed it.

There was a turning point though. I think it was when we'd all had enough of crying and stress eating because of silly remarks and unnecessary pressure. We put the job to the side and concentrated on having fun during our time off, and I tried to get better at skiing.

Aaaaaand it worked! I got better! I got good! It felt great! It feels great! I can't believe how much I have improved in the time spent here, and I thank everyone for helping me along when I got scared and wobbly and said 'NO I CAN'T DO THIS I'M GOING HOME BYE BYE' because you knew I could and so I did.

Boys. A disparate group of boys aged 18-30. They have made me do my ugly witch cackle witch laugh so many times thanks to their wit, utter randomness and - most of all - their stupidity. Polite, generous and hilarious, the Young Boys and the Old Boys have made the good times a whole lot better.

Girls. Sharing a tiny apartment with three wonderful, kind, caring, crazy girls has been a joy. Each so brilliant in their own way; I will never forget the slurred speech during heart to hearts, scoffing gouda, Milka and crisps together at the bus stop when we're not even remotely hungry, the ridiculous amount of cereal consumed at various times of day, smashing plates in tears and hysterical laughter, the 'good morning's, the 'good night's and every single perfectly timed 'are you ok?'. In such a small space we have so many memories to take with us and cherish. When we shut the door for the last time I hope our laughter is contained in those paper-thin walls as it always will be in my heart. We will always be a (slightly crappy, still can't quite get those harmonies…) girlband. L.E.R.K forever x

[I knew I'd cry. Oops.]

Boy. I've met someone who makes me try new things, see things differently and doesn't let me give up if I can't do something perfectly the first time. They say patience is a virtue… pfft. He's changed the way I think about things and how I feel about me. Impressive.

I'm so glad I was brave. Although a little selfish in my decision to come here, it was the right thing to do and I have no regrets now. I'll go back to Chelmsford a decent skier with an open mind and someone who's excited about the future - not scared. I'm no longer stuck in a rut where I have to pretend everything's ok and just 'get on with it' because I have to.

I'm smiling. Properly.

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BEADS SKIS! What week is it!?

SO every chalet the company owns has been fully booked for what seems like the past LIFETIME. You know what that means? I've been busy, and Saturday's have been hell on earth, and the time in between has been drunken and drunk and... soothing. Do you know how stressful it is to changeover a million* properties in one day before 4pm? Very. How can people afford all these holidays? Do people realise it's 7 Euros for a yoghurt here and practically a million* Euros for a ski pass? Obviously not! So basically what I'm saying is that I think everyone should chill out at home for a bit and leave us lot alone for a while. We need time to recuperate. Please. My back hurts and yes, obviously my hands are split.

Meanwhile, the weather is getting warmer which means I'm seeing concrete for the first time in ages and everything in-between is brown slush. Great. Over the past few weeks though we've had some great ski days with perfect conditions; it's been a lot of fun and I barely fall down anymore! Wahoo. Weirdly, writing this seems to be more retrospective: not only because it's been so fricking long that I wrote but because we're way over halfway and that means the end is far nearer than the beginning...

[Digression:
Currently, I'm babysitting three children aged 4, 6 and 8. (They're asleep whilst I'm quietly tapping away...) Earlier we had a conversation where we talked about skiing, tic tacs, pocket knives, various cupcake frosting and death. It's so insightful hearing little ones speak about important stuff. It put things in perspective and makes you think about how serious everything gets once you become all serious yourself. They were so sleepy and slurry when I put them to bed but as I read them a story to send them to sleep I thought isn't it wonderful to be able to take each day as it comes; if only for a while. I manage to do that here. As May approaches I'll unfortunately have to ask myself that ridiculous recurring question that used to piss me off so much: what now? What next? At this moment riiiight now, to be honest, I don't really mind. For the first time in a while I'm actually happy and I'd like that to remain consistent, even if nothing else does.]

Oh, do you know what's fun? My name. Sometimes when I'm hosting breakfast I'll introduce myself as Kathryn and then they will call me Kathy for the rest of the week. Sometimes I'll make an appointment at the hairdressers or something and pronounce it Katrine to try and be a bit more Frenchy and they think I am Jaqueline!? WRONG. Wrong.

Misc.
I have started eating baguettes. A baguette a day keeps the waistline away!
I climbed on a climbing wall! It was fun but I hated it when I couldn't do it and got a bit mad and grumpy but then I calmed down and did it better and could do it then.
The hosts have been asked to write a blog for the company website - 'A day in the life of...' stylee to give an insight into our job role and general life in Val. I will be bending the truth.

*not actually a million

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BEADS SKIS! Weeks Eight to Ten and a bit: Some stuff that has happened (probably not a long enough blog for the time that has passed)

Goodness I am a terrible blogger. Excuse my uselessness but it's been a busy and eventful few weeks.

The staff are getting cranky. Our two chefs left for other jobs elsewhere, and the rest of us are being threatened with regards to the quality of our work. Hmm. It's unfortunate because everyone does actually try their best but apparently it's not good enough and personal comments are made and patronising remarks are remarked and it's all very boring sometimes when you've worked 8 hours without a break or even a sit down or a sip of water. It will be interesting to see how everything pans out over the next few weeks. People may be fired, people may leave, people will be crankier unless something changes.

Leaving here seems simple enough some days - it's just a cheap flight or train journey - but when there's a blue sky and i'm sitting on a balcony in my t-shirt and sunglasses, playing Ben Howard out of some cheapy but good enough speakers, with a fit boy waxing his skis beside me, the minging cleaning and the way we're sometimes treated seems to be put aside quite easily. Or when I'm out with everyone on the slopes and I look at those goddamn mountains they look SO PRETTY ALL THE TIME and they hypnotise me and I always do a sigh and say 'PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN, STICK IT OUT!!!' I know I should do, and I probably will, but some days it's difficult. I miss my sister and my puppy and my sofa.

In the beginning we would get so upset if we were shouted at. A lot has changed: I got the giggles on the walkie-talkie the other day because I got sworn at for putting a toaster sideways in a kitchen drawer… I think everyone has gained a little bit of perspective on the situation and understand the reasons why certain people get stressed and angry if we leave a crumb under the table or a drip in the sink, but we really do try our best and we're not robots, after all.

So anyway, you know what's fun? Hoovering fridges, baths, showers and other not-usually-hooverable surfaces. Yep. It works a charm on fluff and hair and other rank dirt scum. I'm not saying I shove the whole thing in the fridge but nozzling the drawers and stuff. Totes my cleaning highlight.

So skiing! I like skiing. Yep yep yep. I'm better now and instead of freaking at the sight of a big mound I just go over it and do a jump. Woop. Apparently I look 'slinky' as I go down the mountain. Slinky in a good way. Not like an actual Slinky; that would be terrible and painful and repetitive. 

Diet! I'm off the stale bread and leftovers as I haven't been doing much hosting lately. I just spent 6 Euros on like 4 pieces of pick n' mix though because I only like the heavy stuff. Fudgy overload.

Drinking! Yes. Lots. Still. I enjoy red wine and I happily drink beer too now. 

Ummmm so that's about it. The past few weeks have been the same as always: wake up, clean, eat, ski, eat, clean, drink, eat, drink, drink, sleep.

NEWSFLASH: I HAVE JUST FOUND OUT THAT BEYONCE'S TOUR DATES IN THE UK ARE UP TO 7TH MAY!??!?!!? I'M SUPPOSED TO COME HOME ON THE 9TH MAY!?!?! K well it looks like I'll be coming home early then. Thanks for helping me make up my mind, B!  I'll be back before you know it.

To be continued...

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BEADS SKIS! Week Seven: Scooping out sick with a spoon

Only a short post today I think because I'm hungover and can't be bothered.

So yes, you read the title correctly! Most recently I have been scooping my friend's sick out of a drawer of clothes with a tablespoon. It was full of mushrooms.

This week it is very cold. When it gets below -10 the air feels different on your face, on your eyeballs and in your nostrils. You can just tell when it jumps a few degrees. Last night I think it got down to -24. Brrr!

One of the team left unannounced in the middle of the night leaving us in shock and despair. We got over it after a few drinks but we do miss him a lot because he was a cool guy. (Mostly we are jealous because he gets to sit on a sofa at home with his dogs and chill out doing nothing while we fill in his shifts and work extra hours etc. Git.)

My purse fell out of my bag in a nightclub (Dicks' Tea Bar) with quite a bit of money in it plus all my cards. I went into the club the day after and it had been returned with everything still in it - not a penny stolen. HAVE FAITH IN HUMANITY, PEOPLE.

There's a polo competition beginning today - luckily it's our day off so we'll get to see the first few games. I wonder what calibre of people the event will bring to Val!

Misc.
I was making a bed one day and a thread from the duvet cover got stuck where my finger is split open from being so dry. So basically it flossed my already sliced open finger. It was revolting and ridiculously painful.

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BEADS SKIS! Week Six: Into the New Year with a splat

When I first arrived here I had the problem that I would hit my head about five times a day. I was unable to judge either the size or position of my head. Given, I was adjusting to a new habitat and ducking into a bunk bed was weird and sometimes still the top bunk is 3cm too low for my brain to comprehend. Every time I hit my head it swelled and got lumpy - thus causing more bashes because my skull became a ridiculous shape! (I have a helmet for skiing...)

THANKFULLY, I seem to have got over this painful period of adjustment. However, I seem to fall over a lot. Like, all the time:
Sometimes I fall when I'm carrying my cleaning bucket which is painful because the bucket it plastic.
Sometimes I fall when I'm carrying a couple of linen bags which weigh about 60kg each and if I'm quick and ninja I can position them to cushion my fall - that's really difficult to do.
Sometimes I fall when it's a countdown to 2013 and I'm running towards non-existent fireworks which I think are in a particular direction but are actually not and so decide to run around a roundabout at the centre of the high street covered in black ice surrounded by lots and lots of people.

- It didn't hurt at the time, and although my pride was protected by the mass round of applause I received, my hip was not, and now I have another massive bruise. Christmas day bruises are fading slowly...

So anyway, this week has been busy. Quelle surprise!!! Though there was a breakthrough with regards to my relationship with skiing; I did a bordercross run and loved it. Bit scary, bit fast, bit twisty, uppy, downy and loopy but super fun. That day a big group of us went over to Tignes and had a great few hours. I fell over twice but spread out like a starfish so managed to control the tumbling. It's been sunny for a good few days now which is obviously beaut but I think we're in need of some new snow because the roads look dirty and the pavements are squishy slushy.

Our kitchen window and balcony (which has a greater square area than my bedroom) look out onto le Face. I spend most of my time looking out and watching people ski down with grace. How do they make it look so easy dammit?!

I'm assisting the chef this week in prepping and serving dinner for 18 and working late into the evening. It should be cool, but how do I pour wine?! Glug.

Misc.
Baileys for 3 Euros!? Yes, I will take that seasonnaire discount and abuse it. I have turned an aperitif into a standard bar drink and am happy to add several centimetres to the waistline at that price.
I think I ODed on Milka.

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BEADS SKIS! Week Five: bruises and snoozes, mostly...

We got the afternoon off on Christmas day, and so it was spent dancing on tables at the Follie Deuce and buying bottles of rose at 40 Euros a pop. Ouchy. Loud DJs, tons of people, Santas everywhere; it was fab. To get into the spirit (/look like a mug) I decorated my helmet in the bows and ribbons from my presents I'd opened earlier. The selotape did a good job (though I wasn't skiing fast enough for them to fall off).
Around 4pm I deteriorated and was very very very drunk all of a sudden. En route to the cable car (ALONE - everyone else was able to ski down, just about) I fell splat on my wrist and was adamant I'd broken it (obvs very dramatic) and my skis clunked on top of me and I whinged a lot to my new French friends I made on the way down.

After a small sleep (not a passing-out) and two types of pasta I felt OK again and we watched the fireworks and the ESF light display down the Face which was ace. My wrist was strapped up into a Lady Gaga/Madonna-esque claw with more black electric tape and we continued the evening.

A strange but awesome Christmas day, and when I woke up on Boxing day I was COVERED in bruises. So mysterious.

The days between Christmas and New Year are always odd, but here it's odder. We have been super ridic busy and have just got on with our early mornings and long shifts. Christmas week passed so quickly with my lovely family, but this week I have another lovely lot to cook and clean for. Yes, my alarm is set for 6.10am but I finish a little earlier which means more time for morning naps as well as afternoon naps!!!? YAY NAPS.

Oh yeah, skiing stuff. Um. Well I went skiing on my own the other day and that was good because I didn't fall over at all and I finished the run on a high with a big grin on my face feeling like a pro. That was the end of skiing for the day though because I wanted to end on a high.

No skiing today because I'm napping and tonight is New Year's Eve so I need a nap. Yep.

Misc.
My hand is stained black. Not from the electric tape, I'm hoping. where it's cracked and dry something has absorbed itself into my skin and now it won't get out - not even with white spirit. Yes I put white spirit on my cracked dry dying hand skin. GREAT IDEA.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! x

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BEADS SKIS! Week Four: I go off piste, I get piste, and try to be adopted. Oh yeah, and apparently it's Christmas?

What day is it?

At some point this week I went out and drank a lot.

At some point this week I had another lesson with Laurent and it was going fine and then I went over some mounds, screamed, then ended up front flipping several times into the powder with both skis lost in neck deep snow. Laurent gave me a Mars bar so I was OK... but yes, that was the end of the lesson and I went back down the mountain in the cable car and in a huff. I hate not being good at stuff. STILL.

I have a new family to cater for this week and they're lovely. Hooray! When I cleaned their apartment before their arrival I got walkie-talkied (yes, I have a walkie-talkie!) about a tree delivery. For a moment I was like WTF a delivery for an indoors tree!? This family must be mega earthy. Then I realised OH YES IT IS CHRISTMAS IN A MINUTE. All the days merge into one and it is weird and there is no Mariah or Noddy Holder playing anywhere. It's Christmas Eve and I just cooked a tuna pasta bake.

About half of the guys who work here have family visiting which is nice because they're all smiley. The other half of us have some expensive wine to drink (left to us as a tip last week), a beautiful massive panetone and some Nutella so YEAH I think we all know who's got the better deal. Ha! My housemate has offered to adopt two of us as family as hers are here, though we're quite content with each others' family-esque company as is. It's not surprising how close you get to the people you spend all of your time (and space) with.

Anyway, happy Christmas and all that. I'll be up at 6.30am tomorrow with a baguette under one arm and a bag of pain au chocolats in the other hand, looking forward to opening my post and presents from friends and fam once I'm finished hoovering the pine needles and toast crumbs from my clients' living space.

Misc.
I have taped up my split knuckles with black electric tape. Festive.

Joyeux Noel! x

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BEADS SKIS! Week Three: Hosting, boasting and toasting

Breakfast hosting is my favourite. Bar the initial stress and eeshk of waking up pre 7am and then speed walking to the cash and carry and bakery in a horizontal blasting snow blizzard, it's actually quite good fun. You just have to watch out for the mega snow ploughs and piste bashers as the sun rises and sprint in the opposite direction whilst carrying pastries et une baguette. Luckily all the clients have been lovely though and as long as you poach your eggs right it's easy peasy! I'm currently catering for a little princess who requests princess eggs every morning - luckily they're just the same as boiled.

Val is now packed full of noisy lairy students and so when you suggest going out for 'a quiet one' it never quite goes to plan. They all think seasonnaires are dead cool - and of course you lap it up - if only they knew how long I'd scrubbed a loo for that morning. I think I'm finally adjusting to alcohol at altitude though. Bonus.

My diet now includes a variety of stale bread - toasted, plus 2x yoghurts a day. This has become the norm for all residents of our apartment. We're all addicted. Since I've got over my bug I have been filling every spare minute with eating which is fun.

Breakthrough: for the first time in my life I am able to nap! I believe this is because I'm always knackered from work, not because I'm becoming lazy. A mid-afternoon nap is now a necessity in order to survive the late shift.

I have been skiing. Thankfully I have another lesson on Thursday with Laurent who is the best. He has told me to meditate down the mountain: repeating 'aum', breathing deeply and trusting my skis. Righto.

The snow keeps falling and it's been a whiteout the past few days - obvs can't ski when it's like that as my goggles are for sunshine ONLY… (defo can't borrow anyone elses…) I tried a couple of runs and it was like skiing in a cloud of constant white terribleness. I (will) LOVE SKIING. Promise.

It is our staff Christmas dinner this evening which should be good fun. I will be dressing up as festively as possible, using all the decorations we have in our room because I LOVE CHRISTMAS.

*

Stop press: it's the day after the night before! Our Christmas meal was delish - such a treat to have a sit down three course meal. Naturally we are all horrendously hungover today having followed the evening through to 6am but a few hours skiing has helped our heads and cleared the fuzziness. Such gorgeous weather today - not too cold and blissful sunshine. I love days off. I feel great.

Misc. 

I had 200g Milka for breakfast.

I have a glass splinter in my finger.

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BEADS SKIS! Week two: Multiple near-death/feeling-like-death experiences not related to avalanches

Note: I'm writing this whilst really ill and PISSED OFF.

No, we haven't had a day off yet.

Yes, I've spent a fortune on food (Milka) and drink (vodka). My diet is basically Milka, cheese, bread, vodka and different varieties of Milka.

I've experienced my first hangover at altitude which is basically quadruple the non-fun and I look like death on a stick.

Our first day of skiing was so beautiful but then I fell down and remembered I'm scared of skiing so I'm having a lesson with Laurent tomorrow. Cool.

Misc.

All knuckles are split open and bleeding and when I rub my fingers together I make my own skin-textured musical sandpaper instrument.

A dude gave me a high five because my jacket is sick. So that was good.

My average poll age is 20, though given the past few days I reckon it's increased tenfold. Yep, I look 200 years old. *Reaches for Milka.....*

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BEADS SKIS! Week One: I live in a box and I might die

'Here's your accommodation - it's cosy!'
Cosy is a word I use for when I'm on the sofa curled up in a ball reading some trashy magazine about some trashy celeb I know nothing about whilst the fire's blazing and I have a blanket and a fat cushion. Cosy is not a teeny one room apartment that combines the kitchen/diner/bedroom adjoined with a shoebox double-bunk room attached to a bathroom that is potentially bigger than bunk room.
There are 4 of us sharing and I am lucky enough to have the bottom bunk in the shoebox room. As I laid down for the first time I stared into the eyes of a young Scandinavian-looking boy as his passport photo stared back at me - a previous seasonnaire had stuck it upon the bed panels last season. Fitty! He's our lucky mascot.

Our apartment is located across one of the main pistes which means sprinting down an indluating hill to get to work - though this also means trying to get up it after you've gone out for a few beers. Difficult.

Our induction consisted of being warned that we may die, mostly. Not whilst hosting- when skiing. We are now very avalanche aware.

Cleaning is hard work. By the third day of cleaning I think that I will die from inhaling polish or Anti-Cal - the 50% bleach cleaner. Plus there's so much wooden furtniture that we are practically doing lines of polish. EeeeEEeee!

The drinks are extortionate and food is too.

We have been practicing our cooking for the past couple of days and that has been a lovely break from dust and grime and duvets. I baked a batch of flapjacks and a carrot cake - at altitude - which basically means you disregard the recipe and add hell loads of oil and butter and stuff and stir until the consistency seems OK, whack it in the oven and pray for the best. Doing this, by the way, alone and in an empty chalet, against the clock. Praying works! Oh, but carrying it a mile back to the office through a -19 blizzards with it wrapped in a tea towel is quite hard. My mascapone topping was squished and slimy but the cake beneath was delish. SO PROUD OF MASELF.

Misc.
My nails and knuckles are split and I have a splinter.
Danish boys are creepy and whisper creepy Danish stuff in your ear when you're trying to enjoy a Baileys.

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October

The days are shorter and the cold draws in, shoulders hunch and you catch yawns off sleepy passers by who remind you you're sleepier too.* As your summer freckles fade and you delve into those bottom drawers for opaque tights, there's a little change in everyone.

For me, it seems that this time of year always gives me a good kicking - puts things into perspective and encourages me to do something different. This time last year I was in Nepal halfway through a jungle. Soon, I'll be leaving my job and escaping to the sparkly snow of Val d'Isere for 6 months to do a ski season as a chalet girl. It's been another one of those decisions where I've had to be brave, and selfish. Who's going to cook the Christmas dinner here for 11, hmm? 

What I am certain of is that this is the time to do it. I have no 'real' commitments: I'm not ready to launch my career, I'm not really tied to anyone - for once - and although my puppy will miss me I think he'll probably find solace in the fact he can sneak onto my bed and sleep there every single night if he fancies it. By 'real' I guess I mean 'grown-up', which is something I've tried to be for a few years when perhaps I shouldn't have. What a dumbo!

My friends are so happy and excited for me, and partly I think that's because they didn't expect it. When I came out of school, and then uni, everyone thought I'd go get a super cool job and just 'do well'. Although my work experience is becoming more varied than a bag of pick n' mix I certainly don't think that's a bad thing. Firstly, I'm in no hurry to make megabucks, or dive into a job I could pretend to half-love. Secondly, I've gained so many skills and have learnt so much from my previous placements - both long and short - and there's not one break in my CV. Oh, and people keep telling me i'm 'STILL young' which is good. I wonder when I become un-young...

So I'm going to go out there, get fat from delicious bread and cheese, age my face 20 years and probably get terrible skin courtesy of beer, clean grossness out of strangers' fridges and bathrooms, learn to cope with hangovers at altitude, speak French and get half-decent at skiing. Super combo!

Heaven knows how big my thighs are going to get with all that skiing/boarding. I may as well head straight to the velodrome on my return. Hoy-esque!

I look over the last 6 months and few things stand out: surfing in Fuertaventura, Latitude festival and cheeky holidays to Amsterdam and Portugal. In amongst those awesome bits is simply a blur of impatient, angry, grey bodies barging me out of the way to get to a train seat; a white walled office and an uncomfortable seat for 8 hours a day; the ridiculous tempo of footsteps that only London walkers seem to abide by; 9-5!

Time to ditch the monotony and get gnarlyyyyyy.

*Last week I caught a yawn and passed it on to 5 other people down the carriage! Absolute contagion.

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