Part living abroad, part random chatter
We saw a brilliant drunk at the weekend. He was hanging round outside Pull and Bear on Avenue Louise, clutching his can of lager (probably Jupiler) commenting on passers-by. We escaped without comment, but only because he’d outdone himself with the guy in front.
‘Oh look, he’s got a big moustache and everything! It’s nice…’
It was an enormous handlebar moustache. Nice, if that’s your thing.
Belgian drunks: surprisingly complimentary.
I’d planned to tell you more about the skiing trip… apart from the gigantic turd of a hotel and my whimsical thoughts on the subject of snow and mountains and stuff. This was before life got in the way and I went out with wet hair and got ill (my mum resisted the temptation to say ‘I told you so’). Then, once the illness was on it’s way out I became madly clumsy - even more so than usual. A rundown:
1. Broke the office chair (no idea how).
2. Broke the microwave. On closer inspection it turned out that I’d just blown the fuse in the adaptor… This might be a sign that we should change our plugs to Euro ones.
3. Hit my head on the ceiling while investigating the microwave. Cannot get used to triangular flat.
4. Punched the ceiling while in a rage over the head hitting incident.
5. Tried to get something out of the oven with a bare hand. Not entirely sure why as had an oven mitt on the other hand. Now have a blistered finger.
6. Dropped a tray loaded with plates and pizza crusts. Smashed a plate, got tomato sauce on floor and TV stand.
Tomorrow we’re having a house meeting with all our neighbours. What are the chances I can get through that without spilling something on someone else's carpet?
You can expect the final instalment of the skiing trip sometime in the next week. Then I promise to shut up about the bloody mountains.
I hadn’t imagined there could be a place as beautiful as the mountains were. Pictures don’t do them justice. Sitting on my bed in the hotel room I could see the glistening peaks across the valley, the snow whiter than I had thought possible.
I could see people gliding down the pistes which littered the mountainsides, twisting suddenly from one side to the other; so small and numerous they looked like ants on a Dame Blanche. They reminded me of the people in paintings by LS Lowrie; real but then again, not quite.
Below the peaks, below the skiing ants and below me I could see clouds. What an amazing feeling to be above the clouds while still on solid earth. The people below me had a cloudy, overcast day; I had beautiful sunshine which reflected on the snow to create a wonderful feeling of heaven on earth.
This article brought back memories for me. While I often have a look on Trip Advisor before setting off somewhere, I take the reviews with a pinch of salt. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that people who receive poor service will shout much more loudly about it than people with good experiences.
I spent three years working for an (unnamed) travel company and would see the complaints letters coming in on a daily basis. The company I worked for was a small one, it’s reviews were pretty honest and it was very much about offering hotels at low prices. I dread to think what the letters must have been like if you worked for one of the big companies.
While there were, of course, some serious complaints; the majority were from people who had spent too much time watching Watchdog and were just trying to find faults in the hope of receiving a refund.
I’ll always remember one letter saying there had been prostitutes in the reception of her hotel before dinner. The contractor for that resort was passing so we asked her about it. “Prostitutes? No… They would have been the Russian’s mistresses*.” Brilliant!
Did we receive any letters saying how good their holiday was during the period I worked there? Of course not. Isn’t it time we stopped looking for problems and appreciated the good things?
I know I did a post yesterday where I complained about a hotel, but I do write nice reviews too…
* Actually, after going to Dubai and witnessing the Russian’s on holiday with their mistresses first hand, I can confirm that it would be easy to make this mistake. Maybe I’ll do a separate post on them sometime.
This month we went on holiday to Noah’s Ark. Despite looking like a cruise ship the hotel wasn’t at all exciting. It had a ski hire shop and we were able to ski straight out of the hotel onto the green run shown at the front of the picture above. This was very good. There was a gym, sauna and beauty therapist, although I didn’t use any of them. It was also fairly centrally located within Plagne Centre, the biggest resort on the La Plagne mountain thingy (uber-resort?) in France; the resort centre was about a five minute walk.
On the downside, our room had twin beds (arguments ensued about who had to leave their bed for cuddles), and an adjoining door (thankfully locked) to a noisy Portuguese family. The room featured a full sized bath which was very welcome after a day on the slopes. There was a bar – it was blah.
The hotel’s restaurant was unbelievably dreadful. There was waiter service for half the week and a buffet for the other half. Even on waiter service nights the starters and desserts were still buffet service. It was weird and there seemed little point in having waiting staff when the buffet nights went much more smoothly. I don’t think I’m a complete restaurant loser – I don’t normally have problems – but this was highly confusing. On waiter nights there were only two choices for the main course – a fish and either chicken or beef; the fussier eaters in the party struggled. One night we waited for 45 minutes for our main course of duck to be delivered to our table; when it turned up it was hugely overcooked. I consoled myself with the delicious dauphinois potatoes that came with every meal and the pichet of wine which was included in our booking.
A conversation overheard between two of the restaurant staff:
- I’ve put forks on the table but there are no knives; should I get them?
- Non. Don’t bother.
Nice.
I’ve never been skiing before and don’t know how the Terra Nova compares to other skiing hotels. I suppose it was a fairly cheap option (hah! It was soooo expensive!). I don’t mind having a basic room or the hotels features being limited; this holiday wasn’t really about the hotel. However, I do like eating nice food in a nice setting and I was continuously frustrated by the restaurant – it could have been at least half decent if it wasn’t for the vague service and stupid systems.
If you’re still strangely keen to go, details are below:
Hotel Terra Nova, Plagne Centre, 73210, Macot La Plagne, France
Tel: +33 (0)4 79.55.79.00
Web: http://www.hotel-terranova.com/
Email: info@hotel-terranova.com
I hadn’t bought any rubbish gossip magazines for a while so I treated myself to Now when I saw it in Relay today. I’m glad I did!
Henry has it off with his bike, Mary, twice a week, up the exhaust pipe (the logical place). His girlfriend doesn’t seem too bothered; at least it’s not another woman. She does make him wear a condom though, so he doesn’t cut himself (I don’t this would work).
Here he is, getting ready for some action. Do you think he keeps his glasses and his socks on throughout? I hope so.
Eija-Ritta Berliner-Mauer, wife of the Berlin Wall, has chosen something more difficult to get intimate with. I was interested to learn that she still considers the wall her husband, despite him being spread around the globe now, and that she doesn’t really approve of a united Germany. 1989 – not her year.
Bless ‘em, they aren’t hurting anyone. The same cannot be said for Erika Eiffel who was caught cheating on her husband, the Eiffel Tower (obv.), with the Golden Gate Bridge. The bitch!
Ben’s been watching another manifestation today. It’s got something to do with Opel. 
There is less tyre burning this time but they have been setting off bangers and they played a U2 song at one point.
There is some mistiness over the reason for the red, blue and green colour scheme. 
It was the biggest protest Ben has seen from his office, although it probably wasn’t the most exciting…
