Diary Of A Chalet Chef Girl: Week 11, Who Gave This Child Banana Flavoured Lube?! Andorra

Week 11 marked the arrival of SHF’s annual visitors… The Mexican Kids. Not only did I have to surrender my regular food prep routine (not that this was really working out for me anyway) but now mornings were all about scraping Cola Cao out of every single cup like structure. However, with the very, very minimal annoyances came the absolute brilliance of these children. Did you know? Mexicans smash their faces into birthday cakes for sheer shitz and gigz (or tradition… or something).

The kids arrived early and without a lot of warning. It was an absolute shambles. Gabs walked over sixty guests up the hill to the chalets whilst I helped Ben play Tetris with all the suitcases. With all the suitcases unloaded again we got everyone settled into the chalets. Luckily for us, we had the boys.

It wasn’t until Monday that we realised how great it was going to be to have a school group staying with us. We didn’t really need to clean their rooms properly, the menu was easier to cook for the most part and everyone was in bed by 10PM. Of course, this did mean that everyone was awake and screaming at 6.30AM on your morning off.

When doing a quick once over in the rooms (ie, checking their bins weren’t full of sweet wrappers and that they had plenty of toilet roll) I discovered that these kids had apple products coming out of their ears. And every single child owned designer pyjama bottoms .

It was during one of these morning bedroom checks that I found an open sachet of banana flavoured lube in the bin.

Did you read that right?



Normal, non-smelling lube I could deal with… but BANANA?!

Sorry. It’s just so funny.

The lube wasn’t all that was strange. I mean, we were warned about this next thing, but it didn’t make it any less strange. Mexicans have a tradition where they are given two birthday cakes. One to eat, as you may assume, and the other…

Well… the other to be smashed into the birthday boy’s/girl’s face by their “friends and family.” The speech marks there are totally appropriate… because if any friend of mine smashed me in the face with a cream cake, containing various hard bits of gone wrong brownie, they probably wouldn’t be a friend anymore.


Thanks to it being the school holidays, we kinda avoided the mountain. There were no helmets to borrow, the boards were shit (and Claire was still hiring) and collisions were happening left, right and centre. Instead, we spent most of our time off wining, dining and being ladies that do.

This is where Caldea Spa comes in. If you ever get a chance to go… DON’T. Unless you’ve got a half price discount somehow. And even then… don’t expect much.

When we got there, we were outraged that firstly there was no discount for “Neilson” staff despite it being a Neilson excursion that the chalet staff pushed when the reps weren’t around. Admittedly, we probably should have tried harder to book through a rep but we were always working when their excursions were running… so we didn’t have much of a choice anyway.

Secondly, the spa was ridiculously expensive for your three hour allotted time (extra to hire towels too!). For 37 euros, you can take a pew on the little bubble beds outside and look out over the valley. And this was probably the best part.

You can then risk entering the hot pools where you must be deathly quiet so that all the old people can die in silence around you. We were told off numerous times for whispering.


When you’re sick of being picked on for obviously being the hottest chix in the place, I dare you to dunk yourselves in the plunge pool… which isn’t really a plunge pool. But it IS really freaking cold.

AND THEN… why don’t you try crawling around in the unnecessarily dark steam room like a mole and once you’re fed up of swim cap wankers hissing at you, take your sorry ass back to the public swimming pool-ufo-steampunk arena. Here you can relax in elevated pods with big, hairy Russian dudes.

Until you get pelted by ice cold fountains in some sort of fancy pants water display. SPOILER ALERT: You’re the main attraction of the show. Keep screaming, you don’t sound stupid at all.

So yeh, since Caldea was not the relaxing experience we were all after, our emotions were running high. We were hungry and stressed. Dangerous combo. We were craving Asian food but up until this point Asian cuisine did not exist in Andorra. Not before 7PM or outside of Arinsal anyway. So we had Burger King. Which killed us all.

What a remarkably disappointing day.

No wonder Gabs got dog faced wasted on Thursday morning and couldn’t work that night.

Wait… what was that?

OH YEH! Gabs got dog faced wasted at Marlborough bar on the mountain and rocked up half an hour late to her evening shift, followed in hot pursuit by our Boss Ben.

I’d have been angry, if it weren’t SO FUCKING FUNNY, to watch Ben trying to prize her ski boots off in the doorway to our store room. Gabs had this kind of squatting pose, hanging on to the frame of the door… one eye looking left and the other looking at the ceiling. Every time Ben asked her to sit down, she replied with “IYYYAAAMMM SADOWN…”

Clearly she wasn’t.

She was sent to bed, and I felt sorry for her. I really did. But nothing could have prepared me for her waddling back down those stairs in her uniform and her new high heels.

I freaked out a little bit. I just wanted her to go upstairs and hide… forever.She was making things SO much worse. Our head host sent her to bed again and I remember spending my whole shift worrying about what was going to happen to her… To US even.

Was this it? Was she going to be sacked? Was Ben calling her in tomorrow to terminate her contract?

I had a serious moment where I genuinely thought I couldn’t do the rest of this season without her.

Was this the end of our season? What if the next chalet girl is an absolute dick? Maybe I’m ready to go home too? BUT I’VE JUST CLEANED THE STORE ROOM. *sigh*

Gabs must have apologised just the right amount, because despite having her monster commission held for an extra week and having to make up the hours in her own time, Ben let her stay.

He told us, at the start of the week, that we would have to fuck up monumentally to get bad feedback from the Mexican kids. As basicly, the teachers fill in all the sheets with “excellent.” It’s just the done thing.

I would be lying if I said it didn’t worry me that this weeks Motxo incident could have meant that we were the first chalet hosts ever to get anything less than excellent from the group.

Fortunately for us, the guys supervising the boys in our chalet found it hilarious. And we got “excellent” across the board.

Thank fuck for that.

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