I was pushing 130 km on the way to Courchevel this morning yet Paul somehow wasn't saying "watch that car bro!" anymore. I guess he just realized that I knew what I was doing and started to trust me more as the driver. Both on the highways and on the slopes, he is the ultimate navigator. The only difference is that on the highways I am in control and he would suffer from any consequences where as on the slopes he is in control(because he heads down the off piste first) and I don't suffer any consequences because I get to choose the best line after watching him fall into the snow.
Driving every morning to ski mountains around the area has really let us travel the Alps in an unforgettable way. We have learnt the roads out here really well and its a great way to experience the alps.
The theme of the trip has been "Stellar", "It's like butter" & Monster energy drink.
Every time we finish a run and I think that it passed my expectations, I say, "Wow, that was a stellar run".
Every time we head into powder, I scream to Paul "it's like butter". This usually means that I am enjoying the powder and am describing to Paul how I think the snow feels like butter under my board.
Every skiier/snowboarder knows that any ski trip is usually a tough one. You usually need a vacation from the vacation. Monster energy drink is what we drink in the morning on the way to the mountains and on the way back to keep us up. At 9 o'clock in the morning today, people thought I was crazy sipping a Monster.
We had a great crepe with chocolate and Grand Mariner Cognac (The Courchevel crowd is so damn "bougie") for 4 Euro.
Paul and I are convinced that because everyone on the mountain has money, they must be Jewish or at least they work for Jews.
Paul is obsessed about not getting a raccoon ski tan. I personally think its attractive.
Paul and I come back to Annecy to check ski reports. We think which mountain looks the best and head for that one in the early hours of the morning.
The photographers waiting to take pictures of investment bankers kids never give us the time of day. They must think that Paul and I are broke mother fuckers.
My entire experience in glitzy Courchevel has brought me to an interesting conclusion.
Sadly enough, "Memories cost money"
If you have no money, you cant take your kids on vacation and show them a nice time. If you cant show them a nice time, they wont have memories (or at least positive ones).
Observing billionaire children ride ponies back to their hotel rooms, see bored mothers read books in front of the 4th best ski resort in the world and not ski and see luxury car after one after another has convinced me of this theory.
Oh yeah, I find it so offensive how these bougie European women come to the mountain and dont even ski. They just shop all day and somehow keep themselves busy while I drive my ass 2 hours every morning to get a full day in.
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