Bridget takes to the slopes

Skiing, in the South of France?... Maybe it is my utter lack of geographical prowess, and the fact that I can just about point out 3 countries on a map, but I was blissfully unaware of the fact that it's possible to ski in Provence. My rationale for chosing the sunny south for my year abroad, was, well, the sun. I had never been skiing before, and the prospect of being able to spend almost a year in the glorious basque of the southern warmth was all too tempting. As I later found out, you can actually have the whole damn cake and eat it too.

Little did I know that Provence also boasts a tonne of pretty snow covered mountains. A trip came up, organised by ESN (Erasmus organisation) and Decoverte de la Provence (if you're coming to Aix next year, then I would highly recommend baring this company in mind for any excursions you want to do- relatively cheap, (relatively) well organised and although the guy who runs it is a wee bit angry, he gets the job done... eventually). Queue my inner 12 year old figure skating prodigy screaming 'GO. GO. GO. GO', I decided it was finally time to hit the slopes.



Let's be 'avin ya'.

Ask any girl and I'm sure she will tell you that in any point of her life, a Bridget Jones scenario can be applied-



I'm sure you get the idea. As a result of being familiar with Bridget's first time skiing, in her ultra chic pink get up, I had little to no hopes for myself. I didn't even have the fur gilet and two bobble hat to ease the inevitable embaressment (I did however, have white salopettes - HELLO WORLD).

The trip itself was to Les Orres, based in the South-Eastern Haute-Alpes. After only a 3 hour journey (pushing four because of dangermouse snow up the winding roads), and a few near death experiences due to Francois, middle name 'livin on the edge 2k15', deciding that over-taking 7 cars at a time on an icy road was a good idea; we finally made it, in one piece, and ready to (apres) ski hard.

Balcony of dreams, complete with my new bobble hat. So pensive.

Balcon discovered and one ski jacket forgotten (drama), we decided to go on a quest for pizza. Complete and utter fail - apparently no one eats at midnight in the mountains. Are we stuck in the Middle Ages? I think so.

I cannot recommend enough booking a ski lesson if you have never skied before. Working out at around 35 euros per person in a private ski group of 3 for 2 hours, I genuinely don't think I would have made it into team England for the Winter Games in Sochi without it. Thanks Alexandre, top lad. Obviously, everything went worryingly smoothly at first, and under Alexandre's watchful eye I was absolutely nailing the (green) slopes. A lunch filled with way too much cheese under my belt (literally) and I was off alone into the big bad world sans Alexandre. I hadn't quite mastered the art of stopping, but day one was generally a success. No injuries/death/injuries caused to others. I'm not quite sure I could say the same for day two, unless you can categorise getting stuck up a mountain as a triumph. Adrenaline induced FEARLESSNESS lead us to a (hard) blue slope, and alongside a lot of snow and poor visibility, we decided that if we tried to ski down it, one of us would potentially end up going off-piste into Narnia and potentially dying (cold and alone). Obviously, the only way to not ski down the mountain is to climb UP the mountain, carrying skis, and in ski boots. Brilliant. I am however, glad to say that I survived the ordeal and I am happy to be here to tell the story. Survivor.

[caption id="attachment_322" align="aligncenter" width="660"] Lil' old me after nailing a green slope.[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_321" align="aligncenter" width="660"] NB: I would like to claim that I took all of these photos, but I didn't. I thought that I would decrease chance of death/concussion if I didn't attempt to take photos whilst trying to ski. Too much flailing.[/caption]



Just call me Chalet Girl from now on, no biggie.