Goulaszes On Tour: January 2007

En Anglaise; Marmottes Live Here!

These cute furry little creatures, usually not seen during the winter given that they’re hibernating at this time, have found shelter in our tiny little apartment and have started to consume all our alcohol! We just keep running out of beer and goon I tell you!! And given that neither Nic nor I are able drink anymore – we keep waking up with these shocking hangovers whenever we do (we’ve convinced ourselves it’s the altitude and not the fact that we’re becoming more and more decrepit by the day) – we’re convinced it’s our new dossers. Damn these Marmottes!!

Ok so where were we? You all now know that we’re quickly becoming acquainted with the traditions of the French (they’re not yelling at us as often anymore which is good), we’re enjoying the food (although Nic did accuse me of passing wind the other time she cut into a fresh piece of Brie) and we’re slowly and sometimes painfully learning how to ski the ice (see injury pic below – they call me patchy now after I carefully sewed a patch of a monoskier to my pants to cover up the rock slice - classy!!). So where the hell did these vagabond Marmottes come from? Rather than just slipping into some philosophical missive about how these Marmottes are somehow representative of us (or perhaps even others just ‘being’ here in Val d’Isere) it’s probably best to tell you how they came to live with us? (While one happens to sing (or is that yodel?) and the other is just a big fat oaf, both happen to be among the most favoured ‘Noel Cadeaux’ and mascots of the region and both also happen to be Nic’s Christmas pressies this year).

Two nights before Christmas, our Brisvegas 23 year old friend Tania stopped Daniel (pronounced Danielle en Francaise), Dimas, Jean-Marc, her boyfriend Tim, and I as we were coming up from another hard day at the office (you should see these paper cuts I keep giving myself too – my poor white collar hands are really taking a beating here) and in her broad QLD accent announced that we were having a “Secret Santa” and that we should each pick a name from the bag that she happened to confront us with. Introducing our French colleagues, particularly Jean-Marc who speaks almost no English at all, to the tried Aussie workplace tradition of buying gifts for your workmates was no mean feat but together with the aid of props, mime and the word ‘cadeaux’ (or pressie) the 3 of us thought we had managed to convey most of what goes into a Kris Kringle! Of course it wasn’t until the next day, when our very animated Skiman Manager Daniel had the epiphany that it would be better not to declare who bought whose Christmas present that we were assured that the whole of the instruction had been assimilated :)

Coming into Christmas Eve and Daniel, the ex-racer and instructor, who says he loves skiing ice (wish I was good enough to say that – have I said I’m getting plenty of practice?) couldn’t contain his excitement at prospect of being Australian if only by tradition and for the evening. The Savoie (name of the local region) wine started flowing well before the doors of the shop had closed – even a bunch of British clients found themselves fortunate enough to partake in the festive cheer – and it wasn’t long before our protagonist started sharing with all of us his own Kris Kringle of different types of beer and eagerly handing out each of our presents. The man who’s often found saying “call me James” (Bond that is) or “call me Bill” (Gates) – whenever he’s successfully managed to work the computer (not all that often really) – was beside himself as we each opened our silly presents, particularly those that the French crew had bought for us, yodeling Marmot among them. It was great to see a totally English speaking crew (comprised of 5 Aussies, 1 Kiwi, 3 Brits and a Swedish girl) bring so much joy to those who had become too used to not being able to spend Christmas Eve with their families.

Half cut already we went off to see our favorite Restaurateur Antoinne whom we had told we would be popping in for Christmas Eve dinner – maybe not the traditional Xmas dinner fair but his Beouf Bourgougne and chocolate fondant cake are to die for. As we’re quite prone to doing (we seem always to find ourselves befriending someone whenever we eat at @Table), before you know it we’re drinking wine and chatting in French with couple of locals Agnes and Jean-Luc (alright so I was doing more listening than talking but the French part is all true I tell you). And after a few more wines, I was definitely parlering in some sort of Franglais :)

A shot of Genepi later (local digestif that I’ve become quite fond of) – it’s not a shooter but we changed the rules a bit – and we walked outside to a fresh – 8 degrees where our new friend Jean-luc, wearing a T-shirt, exclaimed “Il fait fresh” (or it’s a bit fresh in franglais). 4 Portuguese mother fuckers later at Le Petit Danois and we were well on our way into Christmas eve celebrations!

The next day, like troopers, we emerged from our bunk beds and stumbled down the lift to work – shocker! Sweating out the alcohol profusely I then spent all of Christmas morning fitting out big calved British chicks for ski boots (not an easy task I tell you).

And that was our Christmas!?

New Year was a fizzer. Nic contracted what is termed ‘Val d’Isease’ and was completely wiped out for NYE. I sat on the couch and got acquainted with my Christmas pressie, a bottle of Genepi.

Bonne Annee to you all. I hope 2007 brings you health and happiness.

Patchy (named after the dodgy patch on his pants to cover up his rendez-vous with a rock early season)