Downhill Slope

Today is not for boarding. There has been a mutual decision around the challet that today is for resting. 'Wussies' you might cry. Well don't cry. There are some very sensible reasons for this. Firstly, it hasn't snowed properly here for weeks so its not really ideal conditions for any snow based activity. We keep meeting various people that have crippled themselves in some way over the last few weeks and each one feels like a tiny warning sign that perhaps we shouldn't try and better them. Secondly, Craig is still a tad jetlagged from Canada, Marty managed to smash his arse up on the slopes yesterday so that every few minutes he makes a sound that is not dissimilar to a wounded animal, and I have aches in places on my body I didn't know I had. I genuinely woke up this morning wondering on what the least painful way to get out of bed would be, before rolling over as stiff as a robot and just bashing my knees. Fail. Lastly, while the plan last night was to have a nice meal in Rich's awesome restaurant and then go home booze free for an early one, instead we gorged on delicious food and wine, and then had salsa dancing lessons with a group of very hot women dressed in school girl uniforms. Yes. Seriously. It was one of those small moments in my life where I was convinced that I'd bashed my head harder than I'd thought on the ice.

I'm not really sure how it happened. We knew there were salsa lessons going on in the restaurant. We knew the bar next door had a school disco on. We didn't quite expect to be dragged into dancing with the women who would then be going to the party next door. There was a good hour and half of pulling some salsa based moves with a very pretty girl, before eventually my legs decided they had done enough movement for a night, Marty was almost falling over and Rich and his lovely wife Erika called it quits and we left, deciding it was best to leave it as the amazing moment it was. I had gained some compliments for my quick comprehension of the mambo and various other bits, my brain harkening back to my early breakdancing days and ability to remember moves yet all the while mocking me for not being able to do similar coordination on a board earlier that day. However I knew that this temporary moment of impressing young Alpine ladies would be entirely wasted should I find myself imitating the days earlier events by falling over face first due to booze and exhaustion on the dance floor next door.

So I think its entirely reasonable to spend today eating what Craig and I have deemed 'serious cheese' - as it is not to be taken lightly nor gorged on due to its incredible cheese quality - and drink the best hot chocolate I've ever had. Meribel appears to be a place where it is as much fun to just hang out as it is to actually board or ski. A lot of people here seemed so very content with their lives whereby everyday they look out of the window and see the mountains - not dissimilar to when I was in Norway. I'm starting to wonder if mountains are the key to happiness? I mean, I've never seen a sad mountain lion, or mountain goat. Or yeti. Not that I've ever seen any of those three animals in the real life, but I presume they all walk around with the same perma-grin the residents here do. I present you with the recipe for a good existence: Mountains, booze, pretty people, serious cheese. Mix together librally. Try not to break your face on the piste. Cook for as long as it takes for your body to give in and need to stay in bed.

Tonight we gig in Meribel itself which should be fun. I'm going to try and explain my inability to want to do extreme sports when you can sit down and have beer. I suspect much like much of this resort, it will go mostly downhill.