February 4th, 5th , and 6th, 2011

HIMYM lies.
How I Met Your Mother Lies, good things do happen after 2:00 AM.
I was out with my Basque/Spanish Friends Eider and Josu, clubbing my weekend away when it happened. By the way clubbing for the weekend turns out to be a very expensive way to live, and is probably going to be handled with less drinking and more dancing in the future.
You see dancing is cheaper and more fun than drinking.
Crazy, huh?
Anyhow, walking back to some place for something (the details get oh, so fuzzy when you hold me like that Kalimotxo) when Eider grabbed a flier off of a thing. (a wall perhaps? Maybe a pole of some sort? It was certainly a thing… look I remember that the flier was day glow green, okay? So, obviously I wasn’t that drunk. Really!)
It was for a ski trip, with a ski club.
Eider, excitedly tells me that we should go, and I decide why not?
It’s for the next weekend, so we sign up quickly and before I know it I’m on a bus with a bunch of Spanish and Basque Youth (and a few Germans, who speak English the whole time, for some reason) headed off to Mount Something or Another in the Pyrenees.

It’s Complicated.
Because of complications, Eider almost didn’t make it.
I was all like “Whateve’s I can handle this, I know how to speak El Spanish.”
Retrospectwise, I would have been sooooooo confused.
Good thing Eider made it, and helped me out a heap.

Day 1: How I learned to stop falling and love the board.
I spent Saturday learning how to snowboard.
Let me rephrase that.
I spent Saturday flopping around on the bunny slope like a fish out of water.
It wasn’t so bad, too be honest, I did struggle, and fall down a lot but I picked up rather quickly.
The tug-toe was a bit tricky to figure out, but once I got it I was golden.
I can now say that I do indeed know how to snowboard, and learned how to do it in France.
However, after that wonderful flopping day of being a snow-starfish of doom, I decided I wanted to play on the big kid slopes.

Day 2: The Snow is as bad as their attitudes.
Ohhhh skis.
Give me wings, give me breath, give me love, give me a cushion to sit upon, give me thoughts to observe, give me chocolate to tend to my cravings, give me fountain-syrup mountain dew straight, give me roller-blades and a skirt, give me a bottle of vodka and a big knife, but above all give me a pair of skis and a mountain to fly with.

Oh skiing.
It’s how I figured out to move through my dreams.
There’s a body awareness that I just seem to naturally tap into when I’m skiing, I’m not thinking, or trying, I’m just doing as I feel with the mountain. When I try, or think, the mountain is kind enough to remind me that this is not how we ski, and gives me a gentle toss for a few yards.
Did I mention I love skiing?
Because I do.
The snow was… shit.
It was mostly ice, and hard. There wasn’t much powder at all.
The people, particularly the French (You can tell because they speak the language like a native) were... aggressive, impolite, and mostly rude.
But I can’t hold much against these people, I melted when I saw the parents teaching their kids to ski, they were so little!
The children, not so much the parents.
Also, the men inside the ski-shop were very nice.
I struggle speaking English with non-english speakers now, I immediately default to Spanish. The French men in the shop spoke pretty good English, but I kept slipping into Spanish, which they did not speak.
At first the older of the men asked if I was a Spaniard (points!) , then when I responded with no, and a little chuckle, he guessed England, I was pleased to not be pegged as an American in a world that has such a negative view on my native land. I did fess up to my citizenship, and we talked about something else. My boots I believe, which have seen better days.

Back at the lodge.
So our hotel had 3 beds, and 4 people, so the logical step was to have Eider and I in the same bed. This was a lot less awkward than it really, really, really could have been. Eider doesn’t go for men, and I don’t (usually) go for women that don’t go for men.
You see, as that I am a man, going for these sort of women proves, well fatalistic.
A man... Kind of. I have man bits, at least. Most of them… and some others.
I always feel that if I were to go for such women, as so many of my straight male colleagues (and I use that word loosely) do, I would be like the water boy for a football team.
“Put me in Coach, put me in!”
“Austin, No! You aren’t a woman!”
Perhaps there was a better way to phrase that...
Anyhow, I did manage to steal all the blankets in the night, but that’s okay because… actually it wasn’t really justified at all, but Eider was polite enough to only wallop me with the rock hard pillows we were given once or twice for it.
There was some retaliation.
I know what you’re thinking:
“You must have some sort of charmed life to be pillow fighting with a cute lesbian after a long weekend of skiing in France.”
Well, all I can say is, “Yes, my life is quite charmed, but for very different, and possibly even more awesome, reasons.”
Actauly I can say a lot of things, but that is what I would say.

On the way home the bus played the Movie “How to Train your Dragon” I liked it, but I didn’t get any sleep and now I’m wiped out. (Yes I actually wrote this blog before I finished with my Irish Blogs. Shut your face. SHUT!)

Here are some photos.

Pajama crew!

More Pajama crew!

Don't mess with the PJC!

Don't know what Eider is looking at...

That's the PJC spirit!

It wasn't a very big bed, but we're not very big people.

View from room.

The Parking lot!

Ahhhhh yis... lookin' my tooliest.

I'm ready to ride! (Flop about-style!)

The Bunny Slope.

Better take a few more pictures...

This kid? He's a learner!

Woah, how does this work again?

I gat this.

Erm... Comfy.

Don't ski into this thing!


More Sun?

But... snow!

Cabiny thing!

Hilly-mountain rocky lump thingy!


So yeah.
I go to Venice in two days.
Let's hope I hit the real Venice this time!


1 comment:

  1. OMG OMG OMG! I loved this blog post. Skiing and snowboarding in France looked and sounds fantastic!