We're quite simple folk. Really, we are. Well, at least I like to think I am...I mean I did splurge on a bottle of Chanel nail polish when I was home in the States but, in my defense, it was a pretty rockin' color (#481 Fantastic...& yes, it surely is).
So what I'm really getting at is this...when you tell someone that you're going skiing in the Alpes de Haute Provence it sounds pretty fancy-schmancy or dare we say even... highfalutin. But trust me dear readers, that's one of the coolest things about the French - they do things like ski-weekends (or mini-breaks for you Bridget Jones fans) like it was a trip to the supermarket. Ok, well it is about 4 hours away by car, and I don't really know a whole lot of supermarkets outfitted with a fondue bar, but I think you get the picture.
Enter this past weekend when the lovely folks who run my boyfriend's work (les bigwigs) organized a trip to the slopes at the ski station of Les Orres. And I did indeed feel somewhat like Ms. B. Jones on her mini-break with Mark Darcy - complete with a few aptly-timed falls & run-ins with French fashionistas with legs that did reach, well, way up to there *holding my hands up very, very high*.
Actually, it was all very, very lovely after I got over the fear of breaking my anything. We skied both Saturday & Sunday and I gained quite a bit of confidence as the station was quite large with ample space for all levels of skiers.
There were also several activities, such as snow-shoeing, outings on a snow moto, & a man-made "luge" (a total steal at 4 euro plus a chance to go through 2 tunnels filled with flashing lights & dance music on your descent...score!).
And of course the fun didn't stop during the day. Thankfully, I have my own personal French "guide" (& no I don't pay him...well, only in peanut butter cookies - those rare & exotic biscuits from les US), otherwise I don't think I could keep up with the French-vacay etiquette - 1. ski slopes 2. lunch & wine 3. apero & dinner 4. nightclub (repeat as needed...or until your American girlfriend can't stand up anymore).
Thankfully, we ditched the nightclub goers for a beer at the local "pub" & some juicy late-night, mountain gossip. Pretty interesting what you can learn from a pack of locals...and their somewhat less-perfumed dogs.
My only question is...when can we go back!?
ps. It's my birthday today - I'm 37 (oh le shock & horror!) So far, I've dropped about 90 Euro at the French sales, eaten a le bacon salade (from Paul's) followed by English toffee ice cream, & bought blue nail polish at Sephora. All harmless fun...or a pending mid-life crisis? I'll let you be the judge :)