After quite a shocking nervous break down displayed by pretty much every member of staff across Andorra, we finally got a break.
At least, Gabs and I did. Our little miracle, known as Claire (or Sarah HAHA), was allowed to join us on the evenings to alleviate some of the pressure of getting food for 23 people out of the oven and on to the table before it went cold or it burned.
Transfer day (Sunday) for some reason felt harder than any other. I can’t remember why it was so hard but it definitely took it’s toll… as I have a little note in my diary that informs me I fell asleep on the loo with my knickers around my ankles and slumped over the sink. Yes, I was peeing… the last I knew.
After that brief fifteen minute break I carried on cleaning rooms, making beds and prepping dinner. We had Bristols that week and they arrived late but early enough to be served the three course dinner. SIGH.
I’m not one hundred percent certain if this was the week where I had the guy who wouldn’t eat onions but I’m gunna throw it in here anyway.
One week, a guy decided he was not able to eat onions (too bad sir, you just ate them in that soup). He told me quite a few times that he just could not eat onions.
I prepared separate meals for this guy for three days solid (and still he ate the left overs of the standard meal CONTAINING ONIONS). On the Tuesday, I asked Gabs to make a bit of a point of giving him his “special” meal….
He stuttered a little, removed the onion laden food from his plate and took the special meal. He then admitted that he didn’t have an allergy or serious problem with onions. They just gave him wind.
I think this was when I decided that I hated people.
I’ve also found a tweet that says I was desperate enough for food that I would actually eat an apple. Which says a lot about my diet over those few weeks. I fucking hate apples. When I think I can eat an apple is when I’m pretty much dying of starvation. At one point I found myself eating snowflakes, because I knew I wouldn’t find time to eat before dinner and I didn’t want to cut my time snowboarding by sitting down for chips. Desperate.
At night I would eat about six teaspoons of whatever sauce I was cooking for that night’s meal and aside from that a bowl of coco pops, a cup of tea, a lot of espressos and red wine were the only things keeping me on my feet. And those snowflakes.
Okay, so what did we actually do this week which is worth writing about? Our boss planned us a big day out with the doggies and skidoos! In the morning, Claire and I made our way up the mountain to get a few runs in and at around 2PM we were picked up to join the rest of the team and finally get to try husky mushing.
Strangely enough, by the end of the day, I found I was a hardcore lady that skidoos… and the dogs really weren’t as much fun as I hyped them up to be. They were cute though… super cute. When we eventually found them, already halfway around the mushing track.
|Photo by Gabriella McBride, Feet grown by me.|
After the dogs? Apres, apres, apres baby! Bring on the wiiiine.
Whilst Claire was in Andorra I did an amazingly good job of saving money. Kind of. Instead of going out, and spending 40 euros quicker than Gabs could sling in a slut drop on the dance floor, I stayed in and drank left over chalet wine. The guys in the chalet were… interesting, to say the least. I’m almost certain pants were worn on heads, beards were discussed and demonstrations of asphyxiation were made by certain guests hanging themselves from the beams.
This was also the night that I managed to slip on a very small patch of ice outside the Casale and pull the handle off of the front door of the Motxo. Subsequently locking myself out of my chalet. Not ideal at 3AM, when you’re steaming.
That big ass bruise is the result of the slip on the ice. It actually got me twice… because I just don’t ever learn my lesson. The little bruise was where I sat on a seatbelt plug on the bus to Soldeu the week before. Lamest. Stories. Ever.
I’m going to end on a pretty great note. That is that we got our first Trip Advisor review. It was hilarious. Yes… that’s right. Hilarious. Why?
Because the guy that wrote it spent a considerable amount of time with Claire during his stay. In fact, I’d say they were friends. But none of us had actually noticed that the whole group had been calling Claire ‘Sarah’ all week.
Every time we received a feedback form we all collapsed in fits of laughter. I don’t even know WHY it was so funny… it was just fucking hilarious, that we specially introduced Claire to the guests and they still got her name wrong. It just goes to show that NO ONE FUCKING LISTENS TO THE CHALET GIRLS.
Any way, here’s [the most important part of] the review.
❤ u Sarah.