Injury

Yesterday was the first day of training. As someone who already possesses a Certificate of Ski Instruction, I opted to sign up to Snowboard training and learn how to do that as well. The more qualified one is the more they will get paid per hour, and obviously one is more likely to get work being able to teach both sports and not just the one. Plus it seemed like fun. As I got to the top of the gondola with my instructors and group, I realized something slightly terrifying – I could not actually remember how to snowboard. All the stuff Matt and Sophie had taught me had completely flown out of my head and I couldn’t even stand up with the bloomin’ tray attached to both my feet! What the hell was going on?! I am too used to moving my legs independently from one another to be suddenly put in such a position! I decided to persevere none the less, something trivial like the incapability to perform a task has never put me off before, and so I pointed the board down the hill (after, I must admit, being helped up by one of the instructors), started to gather a dangerous amount of speed – at least 2 miles/hour – wobbled and fell flat on my arse. If you want to have some sort of idea of what the next 5 hours of that day were like for me, repeat the above sentence, season with an exponentially growing diversity of swear words, and add a generous helping of bruising over my entire body, and you’ll make it to lunch time.

I did not, as I am sure you have deduced, go out with the rest of the group and learn how to be a snowboard instructor, due to, but not limited to, the fact that I had not yet grasped the concept of turning. Instead, one of the two instructors for the group very generously agreed to teach me on his own, while the other guy went off for a ride with the others. I felt somewhat guilty, but that was that, and I needed to learn how to get down a mountain on what is essentially a glorified cafeteria tray. Julien, my instructor for the day, appeared to have the patience of a saint. When I was close to giving up, bursting into tears, running home to get my beautiful, compliant skis; he sat me down, gave me a hot chocolate and told me it was entirely possible for me to learn all this stuff if I gave it a go. Rejuvenated and slightly hyper on hot chocolate, I tackled the whole snowboarding thing again, and managed to get down the baby slope by the end of the day. I even went up in a chairlift and did a whole green run, falling only twice. I have since returned to said green run on skis and found it to be, at most, a 3º incline. But I was proud of myself. And exhausted. So Julien, bless his socks, bought me a pint, gave me a cuddle and sorted out a private lesson for me the next day.

I have to say here, that Whistler Blackcomb really do have the very best instructors, and you know I’m not just saying that because I am one of them. If anything, that day highlighted to me how much someone going out of their way to make you feel better makes a difference. None of these guys had to accommodate me, they could have easily told me to piss off back to the skiers. But they didn’t, and it made all the difference. Absolutely exhausted and in more pain than can be related to you, I turned in for the night, excited about the next day.

The next day it was Dunc, a nice, slightly awkward English boy who was teaching me. After Julien met me (on his day off!) at the rental shop to get the right board sorted out for me, Dunc and I went to continue the lesson for the day. It started rather disastrously, as the shop set my board up regular instead of goofy, leaving me a rather sad and confused panda for a few turns until Dunc got his screwdriver out and sorted the problem. Blatant innuendo for the entry out of the way, everything got better, the turning thing clicked, I could get down the run! It was awesome! I can do this! Excited and relaxed, I linked a good 7 turns down the hill, caught an edge on a particularly icy pitch of the slope and fell, full force on my right knee.

It’s not broken, don’t worry. But I was told to refrain from snowboarding for a while, Elevate, Ice and Rest my leg, and take it easy.

And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I went back to skiing. After 2 days of excruciating pain and boredom.

Moving In

When you get to Employee housing you have to sign in at the office in building 1 and get your room.  After that you go straight to ‘The Cabin’ to register with the ski school and get your staff pass sorted.  You don’t actually get your staff pass right away, and when you do they want to take a photo without your hat on.  So don’t go to pick it up after a day’s skiing, hathair does not agree with anyone! You also get the option to join Club Shred which is a network for employees that gets you discounts around town and things like free buses to Vancouver, heavily discounted trips to hockey games, movies, ice skating, the gym… And of course privileges at Merlins, the staff bar, which has the biweekly payday party, and $1 pint Thursdays.  It’s well worth joining, it only takes $2 from your pay check, so you make it up in the pints even if you don’t do anything else.

As I am in employee housing I am not entitled to a staff locker so we have to get our gear up and down the hill ourselves.  Luckily the gondola will start running until 8pm soon, so we won’t have to rush to get back up home straight away, and will be able to enjoy a spot of apres and still get back for free.  Hopefully soon there will be snow enough snow to actually ski in ski out, and not have to take the gondola all the time anyway!

Location is about the only thing that staff housing at Whistler has going for it if you are over the age of 21.  Imagine student halls and then make each room half the size and put bunkbeds in it.  That is our room. We have a regular sized living room, but it’s a bit of a dive.  It gets messy really quickly, and there is no space to do anything.  The internet does not work.  I have to go to Starbucks to upload this.  Our kitchen is surprisingly spacious, but has no oven.  We are not allowed overnight guests so I have no idea how I’m going to smuggle Martin in here for 7 weeks.  There is absolutely no accommodation available anywhere anymore.  I use alliteration for emphasis.

Still, it’s a roof over my head and only about £150 a month, so I guess I’m not allowed to complain.  I just wish I had my own room, then life would be so much better.  I sure as hell miss our pad in London.  Someone has had the awesome idea of buying an RV and parking it in the parking lot and living there.  The RV is twice the size of a bedroom here and he doesn’t have to share.  I am exceptionally tempted by this idea.  We might have to get one anyway, so it’s definitely a thought.  This is how desperate I am, oh sweet jesus!  Although an RV would be incredibly cold and have no running water.  Any water you bring in with you (for a cuppa in the morning, for example) will freeze overnight anyway!  I find this incredibly amusing!

Anyway, moving on from that little rant.  Whistler itself is really nice, there are a few good bars dotted around, and it is absolutely beautiful!! The backdrop is fantastic, the air is clean and people are very friendly.  My staff pass gets me 25% discount in a lot of places which is rather handy too.  Not on booze though!  Which is actually really expensive in this country. There are two supermarkets in Whistler as far as I am aware, and the one further away from the centre is the cheaper one, of course!  There are also 3 Starbucks and that makes me lightly sad, but they do provide me with free internet.  Also they are almost a local company, so it’s slightly different to the 17 Starbucks along Oxford Street.  But only slightly.  Anywho, I have found a lovely little independent coffee shop that seems to be the ski instructors hang out.  It’s really twee, and serves hot soup as well as the usual tea, coffee and crumpets.  Located right next to Whistler Kids in the village, it has an outdoor seating area with sofas and throws to keep you warm.

Settling in is just fine here is Whistler, I do love the place so much already, I don’t really know if it’s going to be possible for me to give up the ski instructor lifestyle any time soon….

My Office

Vancouver

I arrived at the hotel at the appointed time to find no one there.  I was at first excited by the prospect of hanging out with everyone, but it was soon apparent that there way absolutely no implementation of anything that even sounded like a plan.  With this information I decided the best course of action would be to have a nap.  I snoozed for a good few hours and went to find people.  I did not find any people.  After a while I bumped into Ellie by chance, and, rather excited about getting ready for fancy dress that night, was disappointed to find that no one was really bothering.  Dinner was average.  It always is when they cater for large groups of people though, so I wasn’t expecting much.  The restaurant was on the 31st floor or something like that, which was rather impressive, but then all the windows steamed up and we couldn’t see anything and it was stuffy.  I had pineapple for pudding and it made me feel ill.

I gave up and went home soon after, my table was ridiculously boring if I can tell you the truth – no one was speaking, and whenever we did find something, anything to talk about, someone else would complain that it was boring.  In the end we sat in silence, and I was scowled at for half the night for making a joke about Aussies. The next day we went and got bank accounts and SIN numbers, which I thought would me really complicated, but was actually quick and easy.  To get a bank account, you walk in, ask to open one, and they do.  That’s about it.  The SIN number involved me sitting there for about 15 minutes waiting, being asked if I was a twin and then told to sign a piece of paper and given a number.  The part I was most worried about turned out to be the easiest!

After that we had some free time so went to explore the city.  Ruling out Stanley Park because it was raining (and because I had already been there!) we went for a wander around Gastown which was lovely and alternative, lots of cafes and souvenir shops, reminded me a bit of Notting Hill type area.  After that we wanted to continue down to China Town which is supposed to be brilliant but accidentally took a wrong turning and ended up on the street where junkies and prostitutes hang out.  I must tell  you, I have jumped out of an airplane before, and I have almost done a bungee jump but backed out in fear.  Neither or those things where anywhere near as terrifying as those 3 minutes of my life.  We saw someone actually shooting up, there was a hooker who looked exactly the same as the daytime hooker on My Name is Earl, and there were shoes hanging off a power line, which everyone explained to me meant that there was a murder recently.  We ended up running across an extremely busy freeway, with little regard for the cars and just sheer terror for our lives.  Interestingly, all the drivers seemed to sense our fear and slowed to let us pass.   It was definitely an experience.  I felt like that bloke from Eastenders who goes to Afghanistan and then runs away all the time.  Should have taken a picture really.

We never did make it to Chinatown.

After that we went to a Canadian bar and drank beer that tasted like watered down urine (American) and what tasted like watered down Carling (which as we all know tastes about the same as watered down urine with some beer in it) [Canadian]  Wake up was at 9am, but as I wasn’t able to find out whether or not we would be stopping of at a supermarket for groceries on the way, I had to wake up at 7 to go to safeway and stock up on essentials.  As it turned out, we did stop for groceries, but I am still glad I went shopping by myself.  Would have forgotten a lot otherwise.  The journey was beautiful but uneventful, and we soon arrived in Whistler, where the sun was blazing down on us and the snow was in abundance.  This was all very, very exciting….