Pride Comes Before a Fall

How virtuous am I?! Three blog posts in a week?! Don't get too comfortable, I don't want to let my fans down but I'm pretty sure this won't last. I'm not entirely sure where this new-found dedication comes from!

It's been nearly a week since I dragged myself out of bed at 5.30am on my day off to go skiing with the collège. I was very excited despite my extreme fatigue; somehow I just couldn't get my shoes on the right feet and I think I put the milk in the bathroom before returning it to the fridge. I say "I think" because I can't quite remember, but I have that horrible nagging feeling in the back of my mind which seems to confirm it. But I managed to somehow pull myself together and make it outside with all my gear by 6am to meet the bus. I was quite curious as to what I was actually going to be doing. This being France, there's no kind of briefing before a trip and information seems to be on a very Spartan need-to-know basis. Literally all I knew was that I was going skiing somewhere in Les Vosges (the mountain range closest to us here in Briey), that the bus left at 6am and that I needed to bring snacks with me. That was IT. It was quite exciting really, sort of like going on a blind date. 

I arrived at 6am only to find the PE teacher accompanying the trip and 4 students. FOUR. In England for our ski trips there was always massive demand and half the school would want to go. I guess here it's less of a novelty, so it's probably not worth taking a day off school for it when you can head down yourself in the school holidays. So that was surprise number one. Then, a full-sized bus turned up and I was halfway through a mental rant about how crazy the French are about transport and how this bus was completely over the top for the six of us when I realised that there were other people on the bus. Surprise number two: we were sharing transport with kids from two other schools in the area. To be fair, that's very environmentally forward for the French. Bien joué. 

Thankfully, I can sleep through anything, so 50 or so noisy kids were no match for my powers of falling asleep anywhere I choose. I'm going to admit here that I love sleeping on public transport - I'm not entirely sure why. But it means that I'm always refreshed when I get to my final destination. And it helps to pass the time. Trains are my favourite, but buses are very acceptable substitutes.   But I digress... I had a lovely sleep anyway, but it was very confusing to wake up 3 hours later, and still not have arrived?! Surprise number three: Les Vosges are further away than I thought. Honestly, the way people talk here, you'd think they were a quick hop, skip and a jump away. Couple of minutes on the motorway, et voilà! (Although this may vary from French driver to French driver. Apparently some do stick to the speed limit, but I'm not sure on that one...! (JOKE) (ish)).

And so after three and a half hours we finally arrived, changed quickly into our ski gear and headed up to a chalet to queue for our skis and ski boots. (I'm not going to get started on the French and queueing here; it would take me far too long to rant). We were ready to start, when along came surprise number four: the teacher left me in charge of three of our pupils, while he gave the fourth some lessons. Gulp. I looked at the teacher for reassurance that this was a massive joke/misunderstanding, but all I got in return was a Gallic shrug and a "you told me you'd done a week's skiing, right?" Erm yeah, because that makes me an expert and someone responsible enough to look after three children... Uh oh.

But I didn't want to make a fuss (I know how stereotypical this makes me), so I took it in my stride and set off to the slopes with a sinking feeling in my stomach but a smile on my face. We started on the baby slope, and I managed to make it down without falling, so I made a crucial error. I got cocky. So when one of the pupils suggested we go straight up onto the blue run, I agreed.

Oh, how very true it is that pride comes before a fall. Because I reached the top of the blue run, set off... and promptly forgot how to turn or stop. I think I did about 200m before I crash landed on my face, leaving my skis somewhere behind me on the mountain, sending my poles flying down the mountain ahead of me, and losing my hat in the process. Cue three concerned pupils (all of whom can ski way better than me to begin with) surrounding me, trying to work out if I was OK and gathering my things for me. I picked myself up with a grin (can't let these kids get the better of me, I'm supposed to be looking out for them after all, not the other way round), started off... And made less than 100m before I wiped out again. On my face, again. This was about 10am and we were staying til 3.30. Uh oh.

The beauty of the ski resort we were at was that it was tiny - it was only one mountain, and all the runs led into one another - each difficulty level just started higher up. Which meant that I was able to dismiss the kids to let them do their own thing (i.e. not fall over), and I could keep an eye on them as they overtook me on the way down. Phew. I gathered my wits and went back to the baby slope to teach myself to stop and turn, where I could fall over in peace without the kids laughing at me (to my face). Finally, I was enjoying myself.

But this happiness was not to last, as by mid-morning the PE teacher had joined us and he was keen to progress. He decided that we were to all follow him onto the red run. By this time, I had just started back on the blue run, with some success, so I swallowed my doubts and followed him with a heavy heart. I should have heeded the signs. First of all, I fell over before we even reached the lift for the red run, and we weren't even skiing downhill at this point. Second, when we reached the lift, there was a sign warning that the route was very icy, and only competent, confident skiers should attempt it. Finally, five people in front of me fell off the lift before it even got up the hill. (We were using button lifts where you have to wedge a pole between your legs and hold on for dear life as you're dragged up the hill, not chair lifts, and this one was a particularly fast one). But I valiantly persevered, watching the other kids and the PE teacher head on up before me before having a go myself. The first time, the pole slipped right out of my hands. I went back to wait for the next one, and this time we had lift off (excuse the pun). However, the problem with this was that I was no longer sitting on the lift, but was hanging on to it for dear life while I was dragged up the hill on my stomach. I think I went about 100m before I realised that I should let go. Then, the lift had to be stopped while I retrieved my skis, poles and that bloody hat and waddled back down to flat ground. Oooops. 

I decided that third time would not be lucky for me in this case, so I settled myself at the bottom of the hill to wait for the others to arrive. My suspicions were confirmed as I watched one girl fall off the lift about three quarters of the way up and slide down the way she had just come, taking out half a dozen people behind her on the lift, all of whom slithered down in a big heap to the bottom. That could have been me. 

The others somehow made it down in one piece (presumably because they're a lot better than me), and I was allowed to make my excuses and head back to the green/blue runs, proverbial tail between legs. However, I slowly managed to rebuild my shattered pride bit by bit as I persevered and gradually began to improve. We had a break for lunch and after lunch I skied for an hour and didn't fall once, even on the blue slope. Go me!

And all too soon, it was time to leave and head back onto the bus for the long journey home. I was sunburnt, bruised, stiff and completely exhausted, but I had the most fantastic time. I'm totally going again next chance I get, even if it means I completely annihilate my pride once more. What's more, Les Vosges are absolutely beautiful and I really want to go back and see some more of them. I managed to survive this time with only some bruises on my legs, bum and on my elbow (did not know that that was possible) - so what's the worst that can happen?! 

Bises,

Sophia xx