Bonjour!
This is only a tiny update, as we're currently cooking jerk chicken with rice and peas whilst our current clients are out eating (and, to be honest, we don't fancy seeing them when they get back, or tomorrow, or ever again).
Although this week hasn't been the best, the previous two groups of guests were excellent. The first one had four different groups, all of lovely lovely people. They thought they were outrageous, but other than some late-night jacuzzi usage, were entirely considerate and friendly. Really enjoyed the week, and we now have a friend in China who we hope to visit at some point this year. But yeah, were really sad to see them all leave, which is a pleasant but unpleasant experience.
Last week we had a genuine group of Flemish-speaking Belgians, complete with eight kids. Again, a really nice group, who left us with some amazing beer and a couple of bottles of stunning wine. It was great to have a different (non-English) perspective on the chalet, our hosting, and everything. Also so interesting to have comprehensively mulit-lingual guests around all the time.
Both groups were very friendly, complimentary and generous. Really make the job, and the long hours, feel worth it.
Also, we tried a bit of "skating" cross country skiing again a couple of times. The first time we even did 10km of pretty strenous terrain. The last time wasn't so successful My ankles are poorly designed for this type of exploit. We may go back to the traditional "Nordic" style next time. It's lovely to be down at Pont Baudin though. Quiet, beautiful and good.
Today we went to Albertville, bought treats (including the less-spotted houmous) and bought a tandem bike online. But more about that to come.....
A point of practice. I've now figured out how to allow comments on this blog, so feel free to do that by clicking on the individual post and using the comments box at the bottom. It's nice to know someone's listening/interested/has some free time/nothing better to do.
Also (plug) my Mum's got a better blog than me. She's travelling a lot more than we are at present (Albertville and back). Apparently that's how the world works now. Check it out here: www.blogspot.travelswithacockroach.com
No finishing picture today. Chicken almost ready. Mmm chicken.
The last two days off we've enjoyed have not been spent (simply) snowboarding and recuperating from work. In fact we've done some very exciting things. It's almost time for another day off (tomorrow) so I thought I should update on the last couple of Wednesdays and the amazing pastimes we've experienced over the last couple of weeks.
Two weeks ago we snowboarded across to Arc 1600 (which was a route we had not travelled before) and took the funicular down to Bourg St Maurice train station. It definitely put the "fun" in funicular. We walked around the town (which I belatedly realised I'd visited once in the Summertime) and went to an actual shop (Lidl, also visited during that previous visit). It was my first venture down the mountain, to a place with even ground and traffic lights, for over 5 weeks. Awfully exciting all said. We then 'boarded back, which was fairly uneventful.
Our guests this week, after days of fairly restrained behaviour, turned up to Thursday's dinner absolutely rocking. Apparently they'd found Jimmy's Bar and had been hitting the Jagerbombs, as well as the complimentary caramel-flavoured shots. It made for quite an evening of singing, chanting and general madness.
In the general meantime I've been trying to write postcards where possible, and reach the outside world with tales of our continuing adventures.
The following week, on our day off, there was the Festi'Nordic down at Pont Baudin. We therefore took the "lobster pot" Lozagne lift down to Peisey, had a look around the village, bought some interesting postcards (cute little place, with lots of cool dilapidated-looking buildings) and boarded the free bus to the Nordic area. Once we'd had a wander around the area (former lead mines, and general forest) we signed up for some free biathlon, nordic cross-country skiing (alternatif), and snowshoeing. The laser rifles are awesome, with genuine feedback. I shot five in five, with holding your breath key to accuracy. No idea how they actually do it after skiing, even at rest it's tricky.
I donned some skis (that's right, skis) for some "alternatif" cross-country. The boots are like the most comfortable slippers ever conceived by mankind. However, I was quite bad at it. This has not deterred me from wanting to become semi-professional by the time we leave the resort. I think a lesson, followed by some pretty intense practice may be "on the cards." I think we might try to take up the "skating" or modern form of cross-country though, rather than the Nordic. Not sure. Was absolutely fine going uphill, but really struggled to get into a snowplough position with the super thin/light skis when on a slight downhill incline. The area was gorgeous though, between La Plagne and Les Arcs, with Tignes over the other side. Definitely enjoyed the peace and quiet (not that Plan Peisey is a bustling metropolis).
Furthermore, the Nordic area is home to dog- and horse-sledding. We also did some snowshoeing, which is essentially walking through really deep snow with special plastic duck-feet on. Oh, and we had free chocolat chaud. On the way back we visited a local bar, before ascending via the lobster-pot to our regular abode. That evening we had Tartiflette and local sausages with crozets at Le Solan restaurant: all local dishes, all overpriced and all a terrible idea. I recommend not eating meals which are primarily made of cheese and fat.
Leading up to now I've had a massive cold, which has been pretty rubbish. The weekend was absolutely horrible, with both of us employed doing client transfers when we should've been "turning-around" the chalet. But at least we can say we've done it, and hopefully will never have to do it, whilst trying to do everything else, again.
Yesterday, we got some fun 'boarding in, with some genuinely high-speed high-jinx, as well as the obligatory off-piste dicking about. Definitely pretty proficient now. Looks like there's snow on the way, so hopefully there'll be plenty of "Pow" about tomorrow (that's for you Charles). Oh, and last week we got up the Grand Col a couple of times for serious off-pisting in thick snowy stuff (as we only had 10 guests, and so a good couple of extra hours free time).
Finally, we managed to get over the £400 mark with our charity website www.virginmoneygiving.com/team/snow
which we're very pleased with. Thanks to everyone who's helped the total along. We'll keep adding as money comes in.
Ok, that's some of what's happened. I'll try to keep you all informed of future developments. To finish, enjoy this photo of a cloud pretending to be a fire-breathing dragon.
Good afternoon,
I've composed a (probably incomplete) playlist of songs that have been particularly relevant, or overplayed, whilst in the the mountains. They reflect variously the conditions of work, particular tasks, snowboarding and other random occurences that everyone can enjoy. This is my Alpine soundtrack so far:
1. Sarah Brightman & Andrea Bocelli - Time to Say Goodbye
Apparently this came on in the Metro store, and a large number of staff, who were shopping there at the time, decided to join in. Excellent work by all accounts.
2. Weezer - Surf Wax America
The refrain "you take your car to work, I'll take my board" is particularly relevant, especially when I'm reflecting on all those people stuck in 9-5 jobs whilst I'm sat on a chairlift in the middle of the afternoon. Awesome.
3. Dolly Parton - Jolene
This is the famous salmon "terrine" song. Sung every Sunday without fail.
4. Justin Timberlake - SexyBack
Another recipe-based song. This time "SexyBack" is replaced by "Hasselback;" a way of preparing potatoes that involves a huge amount of hassle (possible etymological origin, or not). Sung on a Monday, but not joyfully.
5. Clancy Eccles - Fatty Fatty
No real reason for this, other than Clancy's love for a particularly overweight person. He loves said Fatty quite a lot, especially when certain criteria are fulfilled. Also the artist's name is excellent.
6. The Wombles - Remember You're a Womble
I have it on good authority that when you have to remind yourself you're a snowboarder (when your legs aren't quite working properly), then this song gets stuck in your head and remains there on every bouncy, moguly run for the rest of the day. It helps with legs suspension.
7. Kelly, Connors, Reynolds - Good Morning
From the soundtrack to "Singin' In the Rain." Simply from repeatedly saying it every day at breakfast as clients appear in the dining area.
8. TTC - Travailler
It's French, it refers to work, and is pretty funky. Gets stuck in my head regularly.
9. NTM - Tout n'est pas si facile
Once again, some French rap. I am often left thinking that everything is not so easy (or at least as easy as I'd hoped).
10. Ray Charles - I've Got a Woman
Played far too often by our New Year's guests. Great song though. In fact, whichever individual overplayed this also had incredibly similar musical tastes to me. Eclectic.
11. Puccini - Ave Maria
In Shawshank Redemption (spoiler alert!) Andy plays Ave Maria and feels momentarily free. I do that sometimes. Granted I've got a picture-postcard view to enjoy at the same time, but this song resonates in the same way when I'm unspeakably tired.
12. Ike & Tina Turner - It's Gonna Work Out Fine
Regularly enters my head when the latest minor disaster occurs during breakfast/tea/dinner. Generally all food issues can be solved given a little thought, a microwave and/or th knowledge the clients don't know what they're supposed to be getting anyway.
13. will.i.am - T.H.E. (The Hardest Ever)
"You can go hard or you can go home." Preferably sung whilst making a super camp airplane impression after the "or." Pretty much THE anthem of the season.
14. Generation Goldman - Famille
Constantly played on LFM (the radio station). Quite amusing if you mishear the oft-mentioned title. Also catchy in a terrible soul-destroying way.
15. Men in Hats - Safety Dance
Don't know where this one came from, but it has plagued my thoughts for weeks. I have to play it most days just to exorcise it from my mind. An absolutely stonking track. Replace some of the lines with "take a look at my/your pants."
16. ZZ Top - La Grange
Lots of places around here are called La Grange, or something similar. Therefore the song appears in my headbox.
I think that'll suffice at present. If I think of any more, I'll keep you informed.
Obligatory picture of valley, this time including clouds
:
I'd apologise for not blogging, writing postcards or generally communicating, but I've hardly stopped working. To use an acronym of will.i.am, this is T.H.E.
Anyhow, I've finally augured some brief moments to myself from the tablet-like list of chores that otherwise dictate my existence, so it's time to feedback some of my thoughts from the previous few weeks.
It's now Week 6 somehow. Time has absolutely flown. This is mostly due to working 80-90 hour weeks (conservative estimate) doing fairly mundane activities, during which time your mind becomes so tired that you lose any semblance of sharpness with which you may have previously credited it. Even the simple task of jotting down a few words on here, or alternative card-based media, have seemed impossible acts. In fact, the general normalities of life are a very long way away when you live at an altitude of approximately 1650m all the time.
I've not been off the mountain since we got here (about 6 weeks ago) and so have little experience of the world outside the Paradiski resort. There are any number of other minor enjoyments that we've not been afforded in this time:
1. Sitting down. I am at the moment, but this is the exception that proves the rule. I sometimes sit on ski lifts, or snow when I fall on my arse, however these occasions are in the few snowboarding sessions we enjoy (to the max!) I've not sat on a sofa for 5 weeks, and don't really expect to for a while. Let alone watching TV; that's a far away dream.
2. Fried chicken. Quite specific I know, but I do enjoy fried chicken. One day we may get down to Bourg St Maurice, which requires some 'boarding and a funicular, where I hope they have the most generic of chicken serving establishments. I'm not currently sure if/when this will come to pass. Also, we make the same meals every week, so variety is somewhat lacking. Furthermore, Noddy's pizza is a prohibitive distance from Plan Peisey: they won't deliver.
3. Sleep. Other than immediately adjacent to our weekly day off, we never get the "full" 8 hours. This wouldn't be so bad, but with working constantly (no time off whatsoever) on a Friday and Saturday, often with as little as 6 hours sleep, we regularly need a nap in the tiny window of personal time we're afforded. The fatigue generally builds up, compounded by the impetus to go snowboarding whenever the opportunity arises, meaning that I can practically 'board in my sleep now. Often close my eyes on the Poma lifts for a wee respite.
4. Comfort. Although the bed is actually super comfortable (probably enhanced by its infrequent use) my body is broken in so many ways it's slightly hilarious. It'd be quicker to list the parts that don't hurt. Getting up in the morning is particularly hard. One of my fingers "pops" from bent to straight for the first couple of hours in the morning. Again, the need to justify this existence by snowboarding in any free time doesn't help. Today my (fairly rubbish and now too basic) board is being serviced in preparation for a most welcome day off tomorrow, so I'm relieved from needing to marginally cripple myself any further at this present time.
5. Time to ourselves. Easily explicable; one day off a week to catch up on much needed sleep, cleaning our own space, snowboarding and doing literally anything most people would do in the morning/evening/on the train/during lunch/on their days off.
6. Drinking. Ironically enough, considering how much wine passes through our hands (and down the sink). We've acquired plenty of contraband "booty" from parting guests, but no time to drink it. Even on a Tuesday night, we can't drink, lest we waste a tiny amount of our precious day off. On the Wednesday, we're so knackered after 'boarding as long as possible, that one (admittedly gigantic) challice of Leffe at Au Plante du Baton practically knocks me out. Our classic "apres" involves finishing down "ecureuils," a black run down to Plan Peisey, and continuing to 'board down to the bar for a quick beverage.
Especially as I like to take trips out, it's particularly strange that I'll be staying (literally) in one place for some 4 months: same bed, same attic room, same Peisey/Vallandry. I won't be boarding any planes, trains, or automobiles (other than our own bus) for that amount of time. If I had a bit more time to reflect or write, it'd probably be quite nice. But for me, it's definitely a bit odd. There will be some serious catching up to do.
I don't mean this to seem downbeat at all, it's just the work's pretty tough, almost constant (including most conversations and dreams), and physically and mentally draining. That said, there are still plenty of excellent reasons to do it:
1. Awesome 'boarding when you get it. The pistes around here are excellent, with plenty of reds and blacks to keep you going. The blue runs are practically unnecessary, so you very rarely find yourself on anything too flat. The snow has been pretty good too, some excellent powder days, and there's acheiveable off-piste everywhere. Also, it's quiet out there at the moment, so you don't get as many skiiers getting directly in your way (although you'll notice from the picture below that they do still manage it: this is me waiting for them to bugger off - with a view).
The standard of 'boarding has got so good, off-piste-y, and generally rapid that we've both invested in helmets. I've only had a couple of runs with it on so far, but I am already a fully paid-up convert; the helmet helps my head/ears stay warm, actaully looks alright, and gives me an excellent false sense of indestructability.
2. Scenery. The view from our chalet is almost unerringly spectacular. It's incredible how many times the sky goes pink (or, last week, the sky turns deep blue and the mountains go pink). Even when it all gets a bit tiring, boring, and like hard work, you can step out on the balcony and look at the mountains. When the sky's clear at night, the stars all come out and you can watch the piste-bashers moving around on the mountains like slow-moving, errant asteroids. Sometimes the cloud comes in and closes the world out, but it rarely stays about for long.
3. Weather. It's possibly rained one day since we got here. The most likely weather is clear skies and sunshine. There is the odd session of snow (of which there are many kinds) but that's also beautiful.
4. Exercise. I don't know what the exact benefits of living at this altitude are, but I imagine there will be some. Also, with all the physical work and snowboarding, I've slimmed down quite nicely, and gained some useful snow-muscles. When it does snow a decent amount, I get to shovel it in a manly way, whilst enjoying the fresh mountain air and spectacular views. I similarly get to carry wood, but wish we had an axe to chop it up (now that's what I'd call mountain-man living).
5. The general sense of self-achievement/that I may never have to work this hard again. There's a perverse pleasure in knowing that the work is, at times, unreasonably difficult. The fixed-term of the employment makes it feel a bit like a prison sentence, but with the commensurate prospect of freedom and liberty providing hope and optimism. I cannot wait to do whatever it is we do next: anything will be a welcome break, even so called "work."
6. Things learnt from clients. We've had a 72 year old woman crawling under the table in an impromptu (and possibly unique) game of "Ou est la fromage?" There's been an otherwise unassuming individual dancing "the worm" in various locations. We've learnt how to play the "Roxanne" drinking game, and make Smarsnoff Nice, two invaluable skills which had somehow escaped my cognition until this point. Probably lots of other little things, especially as regards the ways people act (similarly and differently) when on a chalet holiday. Fortunately most of them have been lovely, so can't complain at all.
7. Recompense. I'm not sure this should be in the "Pros" column, because in real terms we're wildly underpaid for the number of hours we work. However, people can be most generous (probably rightly so), and this has allowed us to put a decent amount of cash into the charity fund each week (we actually update that every week, with a few words, view it here http://www.virginmoneygiving.com/team/snow). This is another little thing that helps us keep going over those long, hard changeover weekends.
8. The chalet. It's pretty, in an excellent location for 'boarding in Les Arcs, but also only a short trip across the Vanoise Express to La Plagne (not as good). The lifts are practically on our doorstep, and the runs immediate to our abode are good fun. It's also nice to know we're at the top end of the chalet hierachy, being the best that we can be, and having a property to be proud of in an excellent (and independant) location. To all intents and purposes this is our resort, and that provides a little more satisfaction. I still hate the jacuzzi though: it's an operational disappointment but people love it.
9. Making up songs for the jobs that we do. I can't remember them all now, but we make a salmon terrine on a Monday. We essentially take the tune from Dolly Parton's "Jolene" and change the words, with the key one being "terrine."
10. Each other. Possibly corny sounding, but running a chalet for up to 16 people at this level of service is incredibly hard work, and at times really stressful. Combine that with a genuine desire that people have an enjoyable holiday, and the various other ancillary requirements that roll down when you're running a whole resort, and I honestly could/would not do it on my own. Through the (few) fun parts (mostly snowboarding), and the (genuinely) horrible bits, I'm glad we're doing it together. It's an experience.
There are possibly other good reasons to do this job, and they are slightly easier to recognise on a clear, sunny Tuesday afternoon with nothing on the horizon but a whole day off (I say whole, we still have to do some things on the day, prepare the chalet the day before, clean up the day after, and generally gird our - metaphorical and actual - loins for the approaching weekend).
I think I've now wasted enough of my precious time writing, although any time away from work is a pleasure. As usual, I'll finish with a picture. This one is from the balcony (again), this morning, when the cloud was blocking out the sun for all the idiots living in the valley. Enjoy.
Evening all.
Today we went over to La Plagne to see what that's like. The answer is quite busy and full of skiers being directly in my way. We did get to ride the Vanoise express, which was surprisingly quick and underwhelming, and help a crying child who had fallen (and could not get up, despite all his crying).
There should be new rules for the piste, which include:
1. Do not stand in a line across the piste, especially where it is quite thin
2. Do not stand still on flat parts of the piste, as snowboarders cannot gain momentum in these areas
3. If you do need to teach people how to ski, use half the piste when "snaking" about, not the whole thing. Children will be maimed under our boards of steel.
4. If you want to stop lots, or ski in a group, don't do it on a thin, mogul-y black run!
There're probably more rules.
Felt a bit better this week. We're "owning" it more, and not stressing out too much. The benefits of experience. It'd be cool if people could come out to see us in this new year. Speaking of which, the New Year's "event" was a bit sporadic, rushed, unplanned, interspersed with the odd firework and rubbish. Had a few drinks though, which was nice.
Also, getting more bounce in my legs for moguls, and liking snowboarding generally. Fall down a lot less, and even when I do it seems to be pretty amusing.
I've taken fewer photos this week, and not uploaded any. So here's a photo of the one thing that gets me through most days, and makes me feel like Hawai'i even when surrounded by washing up and drudgery.
Well well well. Welly welly welly. Wellity wellity wellity. What a week.
It's been somewhere between brilliant and an absolute living nightmare. Which is particularly apt, because of the general lack of sleep. However, we think (and hope) we may have turned the metaphorical corner.
If you've never made a full Christmas dinner before (turkey, pigs in blankets, cauliflower cheese, roast potatoes, sprouts with lardons, vichy carrots, turkey gravy, stuffing - all from scratch) then starting with 16 paying guests can be a tricky start. Especially when combined with an oven that's approximately 1/3 of the size you require, and a general need to serve wine, cook, clean and direct people. However, all went well (wild glossing over of general stress and things not going to plan) and people were happy and full of food (true).
The last week has had its highs and lows. Doing a 35 hour week in two days a possible low point, receiving general approbation from our guests for the service provided in the first week a probable high point. Also, a good few hours of snowboarding fun kept spirits sufficiently high, and made everything feel worthwhile.
The Vanoise Express, which
spans the valley between the Les Arcs and La Plagne skiing areas opened
on Saturday, and it travels infrequently across the balcony vista. It's
an impressive double-decker supportless cable car with flashy lights on
to deter planes. We will use our full Paradiski pass to get across to La Plagne soon hopefully. This is a picture of the cables disappearing into the mist, which itself comes and goes ('cause it's literally clouds), and one of the "cars" themselves.
In general, uninteresting news, my back mostly hurts on the right side through constant "wash on, wash off" cleaning motions, and my hands are all kinds of dry and useless. It's also super easy to gain a series of burns on your forearms from the oven/wood fire. I am a excellent firestarter now however, arguably twisted. Despite having a constant and seemingly unending supply of booze, the lack of time (or inclination) to drink any has made my capacity for consuming alcohol shockingly low - the smallest dram of anything and I'm ready for bed.
As per usual I had lots of exciting information to put across, but have failed to remember any of it after a pizza and two (count them) beers.
A little about snowboarding: the snow has dissipated a little over the last few days and, after last Wednesday's powder fest, this day off was considerable slower, more icy and mogul-y. The view from the lift this early afternoon, as there's no chance we're getting up early on our only day off, was thus:
There was still plenty of high-speed hijinks, with lots of hilarious mogul work. Unfortunately there were far too many people about, and they're all idiots. There were actual queues for the lifts, where the only rule is to be as inconsiderate and clumsy as possible.
I can't really think of much else to say at this stage. The amount of work we do every day is a bit frightening, especially considering the number of actual tasks we complete. It's a bit overwhelming thinking about it. You take one task at a time and try to get things done as quickly as possible so you can get some sleep and do it all again. However, currently promising ourselves a less worky Summer. The place is still gorgeous, and we're trying to speak more French. We took the lady in the bread shop some brownies on Christmas day: she was very happy!
Still glad we're here. We've not done as much reading, relaxing, sending postcards or seeing the local area as we'd initially hoped but it is beautiful, and rest is for the weak. Here's a picture of the evening view as we went out for dinner and a drink.
Well we've been working with actual guests for about 4 days and it's the hardest job ever. Reduced sleep and practically no time to ourselves. However, when you do get a day off (such as today) it's absolutely awesome. Been smashing down some amazing pistes, been doing some minor off-piste skirmishing and generally having a whale of a time. Follow that up with pizza and a beer: living the dream. Also the work, though slightly endless, back-breaking and mundane, is done in a wonderful setting. Nothing like shovelling snow to wake you up with panoramic views of the valley.
Anyway, as time is so precious at the moment, I'll leave you with a view from the hot-tub (which is a partial nightmare in itself).
Bonjour!
I am now living all in France as a seasonnaire. I've meant to blog on many occasions previous to this, but unfortunately have been working my rear off since we arrived in Geneva some two weeks ago. Also, since that time, I have learnt a huge number of things.
Shortly we will be taking residence in lovely Peisey-Vallandry, which is in the resort of Les Arcs, with a maginificent view of the Vanoise Express cable car (to La Plagne). We have a tiny "studio" in the eves of an amazing chalet, which has the smallest bath I've ever seen. I cannot wait to get in there and start hosting dinner parties/cleaning/welcoming people. The lace "curtains" on the bathroom windows have cows on them!
When we arrived a fortnight ago, there was very little snow at all. About two days later, the sky kicked out about a metre overnight. Since then it's snowed practically every day. We've been sledging and, yesterday, actual snowboarding in the Les Menuires/Saint Martin area. It was awesome. Glad to get my snow legs back so quickly. The picture above gives you some idea of the current state of the Les Menuires resort (which is our temporary location). I especially enjoy snowboarding across the road bridge. Maintain speed!
There are a number of things I've done and/or discovered during training. These are:
1. Moved approximately 10 metric tons of snow from one arbitary place to another.
2. Eaten bacon sandwiches almost every day.
3. Made chocolate mousse for eight people.
4. Learnt that jacuzzis are the most complicated thing in the world, and that there are no standard instructions, parts or end to the number of things that can go wrong with them.
5. Got bruised everywhere and acquired two magnificent lumps on my head from seperate incidents.
6. Driven on snowy roads.
7. Unfurled, attached, checked, removed and re-furled a snow-chain in 53 seconds.
8. Enjoyed a day off more than ever before (it did involve 4 hours of snowboarding, loads of sleep and one beer).
9. Met a brilliant Welsh guy who, whilst driving, calls the van "love" and utilises the phrase "fuck me running."
10. Enjoyed the company of a large group of really cool people who all seem to be lovely in a diverse set of ways.
11. Fixed all kinds of electrical appliances (dishwashers, jacuzzis, lights) without any formal training.
12. Received formal training in food safety.
13. Went briefly "off-piste" before wallowing in a snow pit of my own creation.
14. Pushed a man pushing a Christmas tree through half a metre of snow, up a 45 degree incline.
15. Eaten a 3 course meal practically every night for a week. Recently that has increased to 5 courses, in line with the requirements of my employment. Fortunately snow-shovelling (every day I'm shovelling) has precluded the threatened ballooning of my waistline.
16. Cleaning shower screens is one of the most soul-destroying jobs created by man for lesser man.
17. Life in the Alps is awesome!
There are shed-loads of other things, but I can't really remember anything at the moment.
Can't wait to get going on the actual chalet running, even though Christmas is imminent and slightly frightening. Anyway, I hope to update this fairly often, but who knows how that will go. I leave you with a picture from our first day snowboarding. A bientot.
Having been around the world, a trip to London (and back) was the opportunity to continue the pointless task of visiting every British city. Three more on the way, and two on the way back.
(#44) Sheffield
I like Sheffield. The centre's pretty well kept with a stately city hall and various redeveloped bits. It's not difficult to wander into less impressive areas but, on the whole, it's not too bad. The cathedral's good, with the general area only slightly spoiled by the tram lines. Loads of fountains around, unsubtle references to the the city's steel-intensive past and olifactory joy created by pillboxes of flowers from the railway station, past parts of the University to the centre. Having been out of the (city-acquiring) game for a while, I felt a little exhilaration at being in a "new" city, knocking it from the increasingly-stubborn list. However this frisson of joy was quickly dampened by the inevitable rain which persisted whenever I stepped outside, and that area around the bus station. Urgh. High points include the winter garden and the adjoining museum.
(#45) Derby
The sun shone as I prepared to leave Sheffield to take the train to Derby. However, any happiness this may have brought dissappated with the realisation that I'd left my sunglasses somewhere in the previous 48 hours. Having travelled around the world without leaving them anywhere, I'd managed to misplace them on a short trip in the UK, where rain and gloom dominated. This general feeling of disappointment was exacerbated when, arriving at Derby, I was asked for my train ticket which I had inevitably booked for the wrong day. I therefore had to pay an extra £18 for my ticket (in addition to the amount already paid online). Hooray! The conductor/guard chap then said "these things come in threes" and that I should "buy a lottery ticket." I'm not sure how inviting further bad fortune would help, possibly by simply compounding the financial misfortunes of the day (and completing the necessary "triple") at a mere further £1 loss. Actually, it soon became obvious that Derby was the third bad thing to happen.
The cathedral area, with nearby Silk Mill was not too bad, but everything else kinda was. Just not the sort of place you'd like to spend any amount of time. The central Civic centre was 1970s concrete and dark glass utilitarianism, although it did have a beer festival in, so pros and cons. The route to the city centre from the train station led through a huge generic shopping centre, a weird housing estate, behind some pubs and along a cycle route. It wasn't great. The people of Derby seemed to be those with a sufficient lack of taste to bother living there. If you could call that living. Derby, and it's inhabitants, probably weren't as bad as I've suggested, but I was thoroughly underwhelmed.
(#46) Nottingham
I left Derby having got drenched in a sudden downpour and went to Nottingham. This was a brand new experience for me, and I was pleasantly surprised by its size and character. It's not the classiest place in the world, and some of the buildings are horrible, but I had no strong urges to kill everyone to death. The castle looked pretty good, although I was concerned that the legend of Robin Hood was treated more like historical fact than fanciful myth. Also, Sherwood Forest is quite a long way from Nottingham (now at least). Also, wasn't Nottingham the bad guy? Anyway, there is a clear blurring of the line between fiction and reality, allowing unsuspecting tourist to easily fill their minds with absolute nonsense. But that's ok, they're probably American anyway.
It was actually warm in the afternoon and I sat for a short while in the large square. The long period of travelling/unemployment I was enjoying at this time meant that street hawkers (charity persons, market researchers, those concerned with government grants for insulation, etc) don't bother me, recognising that I am persona non grata. Woo homelessness/unemployment! I liked Nottingham, not to the extent I'd colloquially exclaim "brrrrup brrrrrup," but sufficiently.
(#47) Lichfield
After Nottingham I visited friends in London, and mused a while on my life as an itinerant. Travelling around the UK in this manner is somewhat pointless, with no real lessons learnt or particular enjoyment..... enjoyed. Regardless of this fact I visited another couple of cities on the journey back to Manchester. Having successfully negotiated rush-hour trains from South London, used the inexplicably free toilet at shiny St Pancras station, and appropriated some moisturiser samples at Euston station, I boarded the train to Lichfield (which could be pronounced litchfield, likefield, or lickfield for all I know/care). This was part of a master plan to visit two new cities along one train line, having started in London and finishing in Manchester. Excitement and expediency, as I'm sure you can imagine.
Lichfield was/is lovely. It's full of lovely historical buildings, a bustling marketplace and an Aldi. Definitely one of the best cities so far. Compact, manageable, and with most of the detritous kept outside the middle. There's a large newish theatre, which doesn't seem to be in the way, and lots of cool-looking olde worlde pubs. I liked the memorial garden next to the river, and the whole cathedral area. I think I could live there. I had to walk about a mile from Lichfield Trent Valley railway station, but that was fine; a good introduction if anything. I know these snapshots aren't actually very informative, and pretty similar in construction, but that's whistlestop (probably rather accurate) tours with little planning for you. The main thing is that Lichfield is worth a visit. It's got a Wetherspoons, so you can drink cheap beer, but also nice pubs, and places to sit out too. There's a McDonalds, but then again, there always will be. Dr Johnson lived there, and there's a (possibly free) museum to his life/work. Facts are definitely less interesting than I'd hoped. The people seem alright. Also it's not Derby.
(#48) Stoke-on-Trent
Bit of a weird one, Stoke. It's made up of lots of small, and generally pretty grim parts. There are probably four "city centres" to speak of and I spent a good while walking between them. Hanley is perhaps the main city centre, as it's arguably the largest. From the train station I walked past some of Staffordshire University, a big park and lots of disappointment until I got to Hanley. It was genuinely dire. Large low quality shopping centre amongst functional buildings. Painfully joyless.
Leaving Hanley before the urge to self-harm overwhelmed me, I endeavoured to find the nice part of Stoke-on-Trent. I walked to Newcastle-under-Lyne past derelict areas, out of town shopping warehouses and plenty of, difficult to negotiate, roundabouts. I felt that Stoke was a bit like Birmingham: dominated by infrastructure and ugliness. Newcastle was slightly better than Hanley, but still a shame. On the way back to the station I went through actual Stoke (awful). There were good parks dotted around in the Stoke-on-Trent conurbation, but otherwise mostly horrible. Nebulous, confusing "central" areas linked up by big horrible roads. It was sunny that day too, which just goes to prove that good weather cannot improve impressions of a place too significantly.
At some point last year I made it to the top of Scarfel Pike, although it did mean scrambling up some pretty dangerous scree, wading through a fast-moving river up to my crotch and seeing nothing but freezing mist at the top. This whole adventure, as is traditional, was completed with very little preparation and hardly any suitable equipment whatsoever (you could see my pants through soaked cream shorts). It was cold, wet and a terrible idea.
It was therefore inevitable that I would try to walk up Snowdon at some point. It was also inevitable that the trip would combine the essential elements of dismal weather, general discomfort and a frightening lack of planning.
A couple of days previously I had thrown myself the wrong way down an indoor piste (jumping into the air and landing on my chest for extra style points), visited the hospital and been given the "all clear" after a good examination and an x-ray. Since that time laying on my chest had been impossible and breathing had been generally less fun. This was obviously the best time to climb the highest peak in Wales.
Once I'd printed some vague guides from the internet (no real maps, but one with written instructions and some photos), we got in the car on a Saturday morning and drove to Snowdonia. The good weather experienced throughout the week turned into constant rain, which ramped up the technical difficulty of the hike. The plan was to take the South Ridge route up the mountain, and the Rhyd Ddu path back down. This was an excellent plan, except for the horrendous weather. Also, as the South Ridge path is one less-travelled, you don't see too many people coming the other way, which is rather disconcerting and doesn't help with navigation. To anyone planning to climb Snowdon, don't be as unprepared as I was, you will/may die.
The trip was basically like this:
Parked at Rhyd Ddu car park, paid the £4 all day fee (as I thought it unlikely that we'd get up and down the mountain in 4 hours for the reduced rate), crossed the railway track and began ascending. It was lightly drizzling at this point and my ankles hurt for no good reason. After about half an hour, having forked away from the Rhyd Ddu route and guessed the direction we should be going in (correctly), we passed through lots of slate. This was awesome but the rain was getting harder. By the time we'd traversed the old slate mines and reached (what we, once again, guessed to be a relevant wall) it was hammering it down. Brief ineffectual sheltering at the "dry" stone wall begat following it up the hill, which got increasingly steep, windy and scary. Fortunately at this point we saw a man and a dog coming the other way, so we were probably going in the right direction. Visibility then got exponentially worse so we were simply picking our way through mist, driving rain and rocks.
Looking back, it was really rather 
silly to climb a mountain at the end of September without a compass, map, relevant experience or suitable trousers. As the walking became steeper, and required actual climbing up sheer sections of loose rocks, my chest began to hurt with the heavy breathing. Suffice to say, I couldn't tell you much about the route, or the views, except that at some point we reached a ridge (where the ground fell away dramatically on both sides) but the mist was still thick. Fortunately the wind had eased off as we got higher (for some reason) so it wasn't as frightening/deadly as it may have been otherwise. At another stage (this may have been the "Saddle") we started to see lots of people; presumably we'd reached the point where the Rhyd Ddu path rejoins the South Ridge. Then after a while you're at the top where there's a huge building and thousands of people all soaked wet through and looking miserable.
Walking down Rhyd Ddu was much 
easier, didn't involve anything like climbing really, was well signposted (well, there were those piles of rocks and lots of discernable pathways anyway) and the weather began to improve dramatically (as was always likely). Snowdon then began to afford some rather beautiful views of the area which was a joy. On the way back down there were loads of sheep and right at the end we manage to go off-course to be 
surrounded by lots of large scary cows. This was a disappointment. However, eventually we found the railway line, got back to the car and consumed yet more sausage rolls and lucozade whilst feeling sore, cold and damp. All in all it took less than 6 hours, but it was quite a chore and some of the climbing involved was absurd. Not really something to do on a wet, cold day.If I ever ascend Ben Nevis I'm taking a map (and other orienteering gear) and some waterproof legwear.
Right, I've been very lazy/
distracted since I got back from travelling large style, so apologies for that. I'm going to tie it all up with a short seminary about Canada. It's the most wonderful place. The landscape is epic, with vast amazing landscapes to drive through, punctuated only by the varied wildlife (which often tries to kill itself using your car). There were bears, beavers, marmots, deer and loads of different birds (including those "of prey"). I loved it.
The Stanley Cup Final (all seven games of it) was ongoing throughout the visit and, as the trip only involved a short sojourn outside of British Columbia, I was swept up in the crazy Canuck madness that was happening everywhere. Excellent excuse to visit bars, drink beer and eat any number of chicken wings and pork ribs. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I especially enjoyed how Roberto Luongo's brother (interviewed at one stage) was like a regular-sized version of the massive Vancouver goaltender. I could probably wax lyrical about the many fine points of NHL and why watching a 60 minute game spread over 4 hours is so enjoyable, but I'll probably save that for later. Anyway, the main point of this post is to show some pictures and generally show you why Canada is the best place ever (even though they search all your possessions on the way in because you don't know where you're staying/going and have no currency or contacts). Also, Canadians don't say "Eh" that much.
Facts: A&W (Canada) is awesome. Swimming in lakes is fun but cold. Hot springs are possibly the best thing ever. I found $10 on a glacier. Waterfalls are everywhere. There are bears EVERYWHERE, fear them. If a tree falls in the woods right next to your tent, are you lucky or unlucky? Sometimes you just stumble across chill cook-off festivals in the middle of nowhere. Time changes as you get into the Rocky mountains. Visiting huge copper mines is cool, informative, replete with all kinds of wildlife and free.
Anyway, loved it, see photos (especially one of massive inflatable beaver that disappeared in five minutes).
The buses actually say "aloha" when you're boarding, in a low, James Earl Jones style voice. Also, most people greet you similarly and some say "mahalo" to thank you. A large number of uniformed employees wear variations on Hawai'ian shirts, which is fun, and there're still a large number of leis handed out at the airport to arriving tourists. This is all fairly fun and as you would expect.
I flew into Oahu island, which contains Pearl Harbor, lots of restricted military areas and Waikiki beach. It also contains far too many people. Driving around the island is akin to a long scenic traffic jam. On some parts of Waikiki beach, sunbathers are laying in a grid pattern, like tents at an oversubscribed festival. Some of the hillside are beautiful and some have houses built all over them. If you take the walk up Diamond Head, which is an old volcano now containing a military base (not surprisingly) you can, at once, witness the beauty of the landscape and its subsequent overpopulation.
It's a holiday island, and as such is very laid back. Honolulu/Waikiki has a kind of '60s surfer vibe and the thumb-and-little-finger-outstretched-hand-symbol is often used. A common practice is renting Harley Davidsons, mopeds or bikes (which may or may not have surfboard holsters) and slowly driving around the congested streets with sunglasses on.
The flight to Hawai'i was very bumpy due to the massive Pacific ocean. The stay in Hawai'i was very stormy with huge thunderstorms that lasted all night; cataclysmic thunder and lightning abounds 
and the TV is often interrupted by flood warnings in the immediate area. One day I went out running for three hours, which I was quite impressed with. I took a large bottle of water and did laps of the park (which contained lots of association football playing and the remains of the gay pride parade). The parade itself was underwhelming, with only one "float" of negligible value, a couple of convertible mustangs, a roller derby team, some people with flags, some pro-gay heterosexuals (presumably for padding) and a single drag queen. Not really worth the wait/closing the road.
The island's military history was quite interesting and there was an a
rmy museum in an old gun emplacement next to the beach. Also went to Pearl Harbor, but failed to get there in time to take the free boat to the large white memorial banana. The buses on Oahu are cheap, and have bike racks on the front, but are almost impossibly slow. You have to be unemployed to have the time to catch on any distance. The memorial area seemed pretty well done though, although it ended up being a whistlestop tour. Many thanks to the man who looked after bags who gave me change for ten dollars. Tips for visiting the area (I think it's called USS Arizona) include: don't take a bag, it's not allowed in and you have to pay to have it stowed; 
go before 4pm to get the boat, and before 5pm when it all closes; and leave plenty of time to get the bus from Waikiki, but know you can take an additional free transfer on the buss within 2 hours of your original journey (if, indeed, it finishes within that time frame).
To surmise, Oahu was very cool, very stormy, very hot, very overcrowded, had loads of take-away food options (though no Dominos Pizza central to Waikiki) and was pretty beach/military orientated. I liked it, am glad I went, but don't feel a desperate need to return any time soon.
So, let me tell you about Australia then. It was an incredible place with all landscape types next to one another. Endless beaches, wetlands, rainforest, mountains, prarie-lands, rivers, all of it. There was also no-one about and it was pretty warm despite being Summer. I didn't really think I'd like Australia but I really did.
Got to the Gold Coast airport with 9 days to get to Sydney, so rented a car (free upgrade, woo, which opened up the possibility of actually sleeping in it) and got to driving. However, instead of heading down towards New South Wales, first drove up to Tamborine mountain national park. It was very high 
up and involved lots of fun driving, despite the car being an automatic (or "tranny" as the Americans would call it). There were loads of rainforests in the mountains and some waterfalls and such. It was very nice. Also discovered there are free BBQs to use everywhere! Not only is it the national food, they encourage you to do it. Brilliant. Actually Australia is very outdoor-oriented, which probably has something to do with the weather.
However, attempts to visit the Gold Coast beaches were mostly undone by quite heavy rain. The beaches were fantastic though, and when the sun came out it was hot. Their generally extensive 
nature also meant you didn't have to share them with anyone else (except at Byron Bay, which was a bit touristy and rubbish really, although the widespread graffiti was often really good). Surfing happened everywhere by everyone, including old men with paddles and shiny balding pates. When the weather was good, everything was glorious, but even when it wasn't the whole place was pretty naturally spectacular. And expensive.
Drove up a very windy, unsealed (gravel) mountain road at a good pace. Unfortunately that only succeeded in wedging a huge branch in the front nearside suspension. I thought I'd heard a weird noise. The suspension had clearly compressed on it and it was pretty difficult to remove. However, the drive was lots of fun and deposited the, now-much-less-showroom-fresh, car at Dangar Falls near Dorrigo. There it became the only thing in a "campsite" with amazing views over the mountains. Dorrigo was really cool too.
To cut an increasingly long story short observe these observations. Sleeping in a car for 8 nights gets more comfortable as you buy foam padding, charity shop duvets, single mattress covers and Castlemaine XXXX (much more delicious in Australia). Some of the towns look a lot more like the Wild West than I had imagined. Camping is definitely the way forward, as it's the least expensive of the many expensive options and you often get to pitch up next to an amazing beach or headland, and get a view of all those stars (however, this can be less good when it hammers down all day and night). Sydney's alright, but not 
fantastically interesting to drive through. The Opera House didn't seem that big, especially when compared with Singapore's "durians." You're not supposed to drive rental cars on the unsealed roads, and should probably read the agreement before you do so. It's best if you affect an Australian accent, as people get a bit confused otherwise, peppering most sentences with the words "mate" and/or "bloody." There is a town called The Entrance. Kangaroos just turn up and inhabit campsites. It's very easy to nearly drive into wallabies, repeatedly, in the mountains. There's lots of wildlife to see, including parrots and pigeons with mohawks.
Anyway, Australia did feel very liberating, as you could get to places without risking death on all the roads. Needs a lot more time (and probably money) though.
Bonjour! Sorry for having not updated the blog for a while, but the manner of my travelling has somewhat inhibited possibilities for computer usage. This is just a quick overview of what has occurred since Cambodia. I will flesh out the intimacies of my travels through the various countries at a later date (probably in a week or so) with pictures!Flew out of Cambodia, back to the LCCT in Malaysia (my second, or perhaps first, low-budget home) where a few hours were spent sleeping in a nearby hotel (to ward off potential jet-lag), eating rice and vegetables and waiting around before taking a night flight to Gold Coast Airport in Australia.Australia was an absolute drive-fest, with many interesting sights seen and places visited in a whistle-stop tour of the East coast of New South Wales. Then flew out of Sydney to Oahu island, Hawaii, where 7 days were spent eating fast food, wandering about Waikiki beach and watching amazing American TV. Then flew to Vancouver, Canada where more road adventures have occurred, ice hockey has been thoroughly watched and campsites explored throughout British Columbia and a bit of Alberta. It's been a wildlife-fest throughout, the weather has underwhelmed, overwhelmed then underwhelmed again. My tan is slowly fading, but so are most of the insect bites. I mostly love Canada and want to live here forever, possibly working in a massive copper mine with the marmots.Anyway, that is a mere soupcon of the enjoyment and discomfort I have experienced since Cambodia, and only hints at the massive expense incurred in stupid "first world" countries. Stay tuned for more elaborate desription, possible witty anecdotes and pictures in glorious eye-bending technicolour.
Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dundundundundundundundun.
I've been in Cambodia for two full weeks and I have been sweating pretty much the whole time. This place is mental. I am going to just type what I perceive to be facts without any narrative strategy. It will not be interesting.
I came into Siem Reap airport which is beautiful, looks a bit like an amazing modern temple and is very well run. The rest of Cambodia is not like this.
After Siem Reap was Phnom Penh, which is a lot more like a city, but with traffic lights that mean NOTHING!
Phnom Penh begat Kampot, which is a sleepy old-ecole French settlement quite near the coast. The roads here are massive, but have very little on them.Kep (sur Mer) was next, with a trip to the tropical paradise of Rabbit Island (Koh Tonsay) at the tip of the journey.
The next four days will be spent going back over this route all the way to the LCCT Airport in Malaysia!
The roads 
here are mostly dirt tracks. Vehicles overtake at will, with oncoming traffic expecting to cede ground for a faster/larger vehicle. Four people and a large polystyrene cool box can fit comfortably on a moped-sized motorcycle; the comfort being provided by the box upon which the smallest child is perched. Approximately 30 people will fit on the back of a truck, sardine-style (this reduces burning from the sun, excess exposure to the road dust/grit, unnecessary being cool...) Traffic lights (only in Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, circa 2008) are almost completely ignored. Turning corners/crossing roads is done by looking straight forward and avoiding anything directly in your path regardless of which side of the road you are on or anything like "right of way", it is everyone 
else's responsibility to avoid you. This I call "accepting the mystery." Petrol is sold everywhere by anyone with access to glass bottles. The road is mostly single lane surround by dirt tracks, houses on stilts, then mines (in that order). It variously contains cavernous pot-holes, dogs, cows, children, fowl, pigs and any number of overladen motor- and self-propelled vehicles travelling on the wrong side/across the road/stopped completely on a roundabout. The speed limit is slow as you like for motorbikes and dangerously fast for anything car sized (mostly 4x4s, pick-ups and massive trucks). Honking your horn means you are overtaking, being overtaken, in a hurry, acknowledging a friend, wishing to purchase something from a food stall, happy, or pressed up against the horn by the weight of passengers/boxes/sugar cane/durians/livestock/all of the above on your bike/truck. Some bikes are trucks (MASSIVE trailers bolted on) but not all trucks are bikes.
Happy Pizza is pizza with weed on it. The best mojitos in the world are available at a bar in
Siem Reap for $1. Baguettes are readily available, butter is not (as refrigeration is not, as electricity is not).
There are at least two currencies running side by side and you have to calculate the difference for 
most transactions (USD$1 = 4100 R, though generally it's 4000, USD$1 = 0.6GBP approx) but most things are cheap anyway. In Siem Reap and Phnom Penh they may try to charge you more anyway çause you're foreign. In many tourist spots you official prices are higher for foreigners.
Air con is still the world's best thing, but cost (and general lack of electricity) here makes it far from ubiquitous. People go to a mall in Phnom Penh, for fun, to try out the escalator.
The whole place is pretty poor, and getting around is a chore, and anywhere you can get to probably has loads of French or English or Australian people in it. But it is lovely. The people are lovely, hospitable and friendly, the food is good, the landscape is really tropical. There are dragonflies everywhere (and every other sort of animal/bug). It's good. However the heat, constant noise and (in some places) mosquitoes can make it tiring.
I'm not sure Cambodians, or the Khmer people if you like, actually sleep. I'm assuming everyone is deaf because (except for the middle of the day) noise is everywhere. Street traders squeak toy horns throughout the night. Dogs run and bark and fi
ght throughout the night. In Kep, storms make you fear for your life throughout the night, or any time you get onto your rented Honda Dream. Music is played at uncomfortable and unsatisfying levels for weddings in car parks day and night. One wedding was set up in a big decorative tent over one lane of the busy highway out of Kampot: lovely place for a reception, bit gritty, dangerous and in the middle of a road, but looks good in the official photos.
Anyway, it's Australia via every other place I've already been next, so looking forward to that. No pictures from this internet cafe I'm afraid, but I'll try again at some point. Hope this makes sense, but as usual I'm sweating under an ineffectual fan so have probably forgotten to include anything of interest.
Over and out.
