February Blues?

The reality of life in a ski resort has begun to set in, the initial novelty of seeing snow from your bedroom window has now worn a little thin. Tiredness, exhaustion and poverty are the reality of life in a ski resort. I know I am luckier than most my bills are low, and I’ve recently found an additional job working for a foreign exchange company.

My supplementary income means I’m no longer relying on toastie bar tips to pay for the luxuries. The downside of living in a holiday resort are the inflated prices, nine euro beers and twenty euro pizzas are difficult to manage.   Saving money for my next trip seemed impossible as almost all of my money I earned was needed to support my modest lifestyle.

One week I had eleven pence in my account after bills and was not looking forward to a week of pasta and pesto from the store cupboard. I remember finding a ten euro note on the floor and felt as if I had won the lottery, this was how tight things got.

My story of depravity is a minor one, “boy nearly has to eat pasta from the cupboard for a whole week”, others were not so lucky, credit cards hitting limits and living on stale croissants and leftovers.

Most seasonaires have tales of February woes.  February goes from bad to worse once the school holidays begin.  The slopes become busy and the ability to escape and enjoy the mountain become harder.  Ironically, I need a quiet mountain and a chance to race down a piste. The opportunity to cut loose, forget all of my problems and live in the moment.  Filling my friends Facebook feeds with snow selfies, but alas that will have to wait.

Half term hell…

The downside of living in a holiday resort are the school holidays. Winter half-term brings every Rupert, Sky, Oscar and Hubert to the region. It’s the parents I detest the most, their spoilt little brats are simply a result of their upbringing. The parents dressed top to toe in designer ski wear, proving that their credit card has a higher limit than their ability.

I find their ridiculous rhetoric hilarious, one mother this week so far has managed to insult three of my friends with her attitude, needless to say, her morning half-shot soy cappuccino contains one part semen. She decided to tell her child “if you don’t work hard at school, you’ll have to work in a menial job like these people.” I guess to her we were the equivalent of an Indian untouchable. I find it funny that another human being considers themselves far better because of capitalism. As a small business owner, a Cambridge graduate and someone who’s met Prince Charles, I can tell you, they’re credit cretins. A credit cretin relies massively on rising house prices and the lines of credit this provides, financing their life of perpetual debt. They then use this “wealth” to impress others and validate their social standing.

Ironically they probably have less genuine disposable income than most of the people they insult. Personally, I think they are scared of us, we’ve let go of the financial norm and now spend our days free and our nights are not spent worrying about the size of our bonuses. The best line so far, you have no idea how little a £1,000,000 bonus buys these days. Wow, thank goodness I don’t have this problem. Imagine the pressure it puts on you and your family, if you lose your job, you’ll lose your status, house and potentially friends. Money is a tool, use it carefully to carve out a future but never forget, it’s only a shovel and not a solution.

Netflix and Chill, the alpine alternatives…

So I recently got down with the kids and now understand what the phrase “Netflix and Chill” actually means. Sadly half way up a French mountain, my internet connection is so bad that Netflix is a distant dream. It was only last August my hamlet got a second-hand 3G mobile mast installed, 4G is a distant dream as is a connection of more than 1MBPS.

For me, the alpine alternative is Log fires, hot cocoa, and marshmallows, I admit, I’m getting a bit older and in the spirit of “the kids” it’s probably more likely to be Jager-bombs and table dancing. Two issues as far as I can see with this, one Jagermeister makes me feel worse than death the next morning and secondly, my table top dancing days are behind me. Unless I decide to resurrect my alter-ego but that involves tape in all sorts of awkward places. 😉

I think the plus side of getting older is you care less about what other people think of you. I’m now at the stage in my life that I no longer require copious amounts of alcohol to feel confident and I’m finally happy and coming to terms with getting older. The mountains mean different things to different people and no one’s experience is wrong.

Going home made me homesick.

Road view of the back of the toastie hut.

A few months into my Alp adventure the reality of being away from home is setting in.  I was lucky and had to pop back to the UK to finalise some accounts and got to see my friends and family.  It was a real privilege to escape for a few days and catch up with life in London.  Catching up with old friends is always fun but this time, something was different.  I was different.  I quickly realised I had grown distant from this life, worrying about the latest mobile phone or shiny new cars.  I worried, if I used to be the same, I probably was.  A car is a status symbol, a way of showing off, a person’s postcode determined their worth and value.  Previously, I would have become annoyed or worse still, joined in.  It is sad people are written off for such silly reasons and then surprised when people lie about these matters to fit in.  It’s saddening.  Worse still, my so-called friends, now sneer down their nose at me.  It’s funny how people change around you as they feel your social standing changes, the truth is we are all the same, citizens of the world, living in first world countries, with first world problems.

 

If I see these people again, and undoubtedly I will, I will suggest a whip, taking the issues of personal finances off the table.  Thinking about it, they probably have less money left at the end of the month than me, servicing debt on cars and homes they can ill-afford.

Front of the toastie hut.

Is this London now?  Scraping by, ensuring everyone knows if you have climbed a step on the social ladder and getting drunk to excuse your obnoxious behaviour.  If this is the case, then I am very pleased to have left it behind.

Now I am back in the Alps, cooking toasties, writing and selling FX.  Ok, I am never going to be a millionaire living here but I do now have my sanity.  Yes, I have bad days but at least, I’m no longer on the hamster wheel.  I have broken free from the cycle of despair and restored my mental health.