You guessed it, I went home. After my travels through Malta and Italy, on my own, it was time to face a few problems that still lurked on the Mother Island. I booked a flight on a whim, Mum and Dad picked me up from the airport and I spent a fabulous weekend surprising everybody with my presence. Mum and Dad also bought me a whole new winter wardrobe, since all I owned was a tired pair of denim shorts and two summer dresses. I finally got my hands on some long, black, riding boots. Beaut.
Those first few days flew by in a haze of Prosecco and Indian meals. Within that haze I bagged myself an interview for a local Greene King pub and I started making plans to build a grotto in Mum’s garden. Christmas was going to be big this year, I could feel it.
Fuelled by the desire to fill my days with activities (as opposed to watching Game of Thrones repeats) I booked a train to see an old Uni friend in York. I was delusional again, really. I thought I would be scouting about the beautiful city with my camera and one of my best friends. Instead we got drunk in a dark pub, I spent forty minutes on the phone to a Very Important Person (more on this later) and then we ordered enough pizza to kill us.
On the train home the next day I was delayed by forty minutes, earning me a partial refund in the form of a voucher with East Coast trains. The voucher couldn’t be used to book tickets online, so instead I used it to buy £12.50 worth of food and drink on a recent train trip to London. The idea was to stop me buying McDonald’s at every restaurant I found. It didn’t work. I still had four cheese burgers that day.
The Greene King interview went well and I was starting my new job that weekend. I couldn’t believe how quickly things were sorting themselves out.
But then… things happened. A few weeks down the line I heard from the VIP again and I had been offered a job as a chalet chef in Andorra for the winter season, starting 7th December. I was stoked. Although it meant leaving my new job and my family behind so soon after getting back… and for Christmas.
I spent the next two weeks buying boots and thermals. VIP Ben was good enough to book me hold luggage on my flight to Barcelona so I had up to 20kg to fill. Which is quite a lot when you’re used to travelling with a bag small enough to fit in the cabin. I filled it with Christmas presents.
The day finally came when Mum or Dad was driving me to the airport again. I said my goodbyes and I cried my beady, little eyes out again, but I knew I was coming home in April. So it’s nothing that a quick glass of wine couldn’t fix.
Arriving in Barcelona was like coming back to my second home. It felt natural for me to be in Spain and I had a sudden longing to be back in Tarragona. I jumped on my little bus which would be taking us to our resort in a completely different country. This is when I met Gabs, our chalet’s host. We hit it off straight away and I was able to chillax a little knowing that whatever this job threw at me, my winter season was still going to be a lot of fun.
And here I am, a month later and (please excuse this cliché) living the dream.
I’m in Andorra until April, working my little socks off in a ski resort called El Tarter. I have a whole series devoted to being a chalet girl coming up purely for your literary pleasure. So please accept my apologies for the quietness and enjoy the hilarity of the videos I will be uploading over the course of the winter season. If you’re following me on twitter or Instagram you might have seen a few already but I do have extended versions of those clips, which really are a must watch.
I’m so excited to share this with you.
|One sunny ass, snow covered Christmas Day in the mountains of Andorra|