From packing ninja to ski ninja

I had my first ever ski lesson today. Ironically I had to ski to get to the meeting place for the lesson, so my dad gave me a crash course on the infamous snowplow. Literally a crash course; I immediately fell over.

That said, when I got to the lesson and explained that it was my first time, (cue "Oh merde" look from instructor) while everyone else had made it to the lesson the previous day, I wasn't too shabby at all. We had a little grading race, and the instructors kept pointing at me and saying "Superbe!" Well, I think they were pointing at me...

So we spent the afternoon snowplowing our way around the green slopes, and I pulled off some sneaky parallel turns whenever the instructor wasn't looking. Because I read books, and some books tell you how to do that. When he did catch me, he shouted, "Non, non! Do not make ze turns! Stay with ze lazy snow plow!" So I did. And I was a snowplow ninja, going along only slightly faster than an elderly escargot.

Even at that speed I overtook the instructor and he said, "Non, non! Follow me! Stay be'ind me!" So I did. And I perfected a technique I probably won't be using for very long... But we'll see. Baby steps.

I discovered one more thing. Apparently I'm a bit of a speed freak. And when you're trying to do a snowplow turn at high speed, it's just not fast enough. Pressing in alternate big toes, on the other hand, is much more efficient.

Booyah, mofos.

Yes, I am quite aware that the entire resort has written me off as a bimbo. 

In other news, our luggage has arrived! I HAVE PAJAMAS!!!!!!!!!! And, more importantly, my asthma pumps. HOORAY!

My dad's response to our luggage arriving:

Luggage is here, so shopping spree has ended. France will now return its economic downturn.