The eagle has landed (well, mostly)

Well, she´s here! We ran into each other in the lobby, and I´ve been busy showing everyone that my imaginary friend actually does exist. Of course, her luggage hasn´t turned up yet, which goes to show that American Airlines are just as bad as they were four years ago when eight of us found ourselves sitting on a 777 in JFK which didn´t have a pilot. We eventually ended up leaving on a Virgin flight six hours later, from a different terminal, lacking some of our luggage. Totally imcompetant. She managed to black out last night, too, which was interesting. Something to do with the altitude and travel fatigue, I think. So, apart from being two days late, having no luggage, and having already had to have the doctor glue her head back together from where she hit it against a shelf when she passed out.... she´s on good form. She also managed to heckle a guy that was holding forth on expert skiing in Sivlerton - some place in the US. He had some picture on his resort shirt that Sylv recognised from St. Anton. He suggested St. Anton must have copied it from Silverton. Hmm. I held my tongue. The mind boggles, though...
´So you´re saying that St. Anton - one of the oldest resorts in the world, where Alpine Skiing was invented - copied this from some tinpot mountain in the middle of the US? Interesting...´

Having said that, we´d had a lot of wine, and not a few Pisco Sours, so headaches all round this morning. It´s amazing how a spot of downhill blows out the cobwebs, though.

The sun´s shining, and I´m getting my legs back. Snow is forecast for Monday, and there is a chance we could get snowed in. This may mean we won´t be able to hook up with the tour group as planned, but we´ll see. Since the disaster at the airport, it´s finally occurred to me (after twenty-seven years) that there´s no real point in worrying, and that everything generally sorts itself out in the end.

Damn, there was nothing really interesting in that post, was there? Oh well, off to try Roca Jack this afternoon. They have these ´Vi a viente´ski tow things, that consist of a horizontal bar with four buttons attached. It rocket-tows four people up the mountain at a time, and is somewhere between exhilerating and pure terror. Wicked.

This just in, from our travel desk...

"Hi, my friend is flying into Santiago this morning? Do you know what time she will arrive in Portillo?"
"Ha ha. We have some news for you..."
"Really? It is funny news?"
"Your friend is in Buenos Aires."
"Buenos Aires, Argentina?"
"No, Buenos Aires, Norway." (Actually, that´s artistic license. I haven´t found a sarcastic Chillian yet - that I´ve noticed, anyway...)
"Yes, her flight, it get...diverted. She arrives in Santiago at one twenty pm. The driver, he waits for her..."
"Um, okay. So she arrives here at four?"
"Si, er, yes."
"Right...."

Truly, I´m not making this up. It appears my travelling companion has been diverted via Argentina. I have no idea why, and shall have my sympathy levels turned up to maximum when she arrives as, I´d say, she´s not likely to be in a good mood. Hopefully, she´ll be here within a few hours. People are beginning to point at me and whisper...

"Look at that guy. He pretends he has a friend coming."
"Really?"
"Yes, he is deluded. It is very sad. He says she is coming, but she never does. I feel sorry for him."
"Yes, and he looks like he´s had plastic surgery too..."

Still, I have had my dodgy paragliding stalker to keep me company. He just keeps appearing! No matter where I am, or where I go, he´s just there. I don´t know how he does it. Slightly scarey, to be honest. The last time I saw him, he told me to stay on the slope I was on while he went to get his camcorder. This partially explains my presence in front of this PC.

Oh, and don´t worry: I´m doing plenty of boarding. Bear in mind I´m a fast touch-typist, so this has only taken about ten minutes. I´m also, as I think I mentioned before, trying to take it easy this first week. I´m thinking about digging out the new board tomorrow morning and giving it a go...

Bl**dy Foreigners

So, I´m feeling a little better this morning, having had eight hours of sleep. It would appear, though, that I´m billeted with the Odd Squad. Actually, that´s a bit unfair, but they´re certainly eclectic.

First up, we have Francisco, from Buenes Aires (is that how you spell it?). It turns out he´s only sixteen, yet already has plans to go to Wharton business school and work as a Private Banker in New York. I pointed out to him I only knew I was going to be working in Private Banking roughly six months before the actual event. So much for spontineiety. He´s sixteen, though, and he´s here on his own. I sat down to check my mail yesterday and found him beside me, playing Solitaire. Now, I´ve done many odd things in my life, but I´ve yet to find myself playing computer games in a ski resort. Yet this guy pales into insignificance compared to the Other Guy...

This one´s called Roberto, and is actually Chillian. He appears to be in his late thirties and, frankly, I can´t shake him. He´s done an awful lot of things, yet manages to be one of the most boring people I´ve met in quite a while (and remember I work in IT). I mean, how can one make paragliding sound dull? Oh yes, he´s on his own, of course. He´s a skier, of course, and wears a paragliding jumpsuit. The mind boggles. There´s something slightly effete about him, too: He has a reedy-thin voice, and a slightly ´careful´ manner. I thought I´d successfully dodged him yesterday (he´s leaving today), but no, he got me again. He has a camcorder, and thinks it would be fun if we film each other´s technique(!). Where, oh where, is a Polish-American bird when you need one? As he left for breakfast this morning, he asked me, ´What jacket are you wearing?´. He wanted to be able to recognise me so we could ´take pictures of each other.´I don´t mind telling you that this one sentence scared teh bejeesus out of me. He went to breakfast. I went to breakfast. I sat down, and then noticed he was on the next table. I made twenty minutes of frantic bread-buttering and coffee-stiring before I heard ´Ah, Nick!´. He came and joined me.

Anway, he´s leaving today, so that´s a result. I have a feeling he´s lurking on the nursery slope waiting for me. With his camera.

Sylv should(!) be here very soon, so I have a feeling these journal entries will tail off somewhat. It´s certainly been an experience being on my own, and, although fun, I´m not sure it´s totally for me. I mean, okay, one meets loads of really interesting and fun people, but there´s nowhere to touch base. Nowhere to retreat to, besides one´s ´own company´. Now, I was thinking about this last night (while willing Roberto to finish his food and just STOP TALKING) and, while I guess I´m comfortable with my own company, it´s only really when I have, say, a PC, a book, music, etc. So, I´m looking forward to having reinforcements here. The food in this place is great, as is the service. Unlike European resorts, where one company runs the ski-fields, while individual hoteliers provide somewhere to stay, this place is all-inclusive. It is, essentially, a cruise-ship, complete with enertainments officers, comedy waiters, and cocktails with the Captain (Actually the resort owner) on a Sunday evening. I have made my mind up to chill this first week, use the gym, the pool, the slopes, the bar. After that, well, we hook up with the tour group and it´s hardcore all the way.

My back still hurts. Ibuprofen is a wonderful thing.

And...relax...

Hokay, I´m now at Portillo. Got a message from Sylv that she missed her connection, so she´ll be here tomorrow. Also got totally fleeced at the airport. I eventually hooked up with a Canadian chap called James, for a car share to Portillo. We got ´portered´. Annoying. Y´know, when you´re at a foreign airport and somebody generously carries your bags for you, even though you´re more than capable of carrying them yourself, then demands a tip. Gah! Totally overtipped, too - I have a feeling he´ll be taking the rest of the week off. Still, I´m on holiday now, so time to relax.

I´ve been up the mountain, and it´s not the largest resort in the world. I´ve also got first-run wobbles. If you´ve ever skied or boarded, you´ll know that you always, after a holiday and a break, have a very high opinion of yourself. After five years I am still completely shocked to discover I feel completely unstable on my first day. I´ve been sticking with James for now, to avoid being labelled as a ´Billy no-mates´. He has two mates already here, who are very much of the ´woah, sick man´school of snowboarding - even though one is on skis. I´m in a four-bunk room, with one very tall, and rather perplexed argentinian. If he´s miffed at finding he´s now sharing the room to himself, he´s not showing it. He´s a bit younger, so I think I´ve intimidated him. If he starts misbehaving, I´ll just say ´General Belgrano´to him, and see what happens.

I may be rambling a bit as - I think - I´ve had about five hours of sleep in roughly two days. I´m beginning to halucinate. I shall be dining alone tonight (well, with a bunch of random strangers), so that should add a mezanine and tool shed to my character. One thing is true, though: It´s amazing how many people one meets when one travels on one´s own.

Um...

And start, the adventure did...

I sat on the plane, having almost gone to the wrong airport, thinking what an adventure it had already been, and just how I was going to write about the sinking feeling when I realised I was actually leaving from Heathrow, not Gatwick, and the German check-in assistant who thought she was going to charge me excess for my snowboard (in five years, this has never happened). What really annoyed me was when, having spoken to her supervisor, she told me it was all okay - as if she was telling me something I didn´t know, or doing me a favour. Anyway. it turns out that that was nothing compared to my current situation. Sylv, my travelling companion, hasn´t turned up. So, I´m sitting here in Santiago airport wondering what to do with myself.

Now, it appears to be her cock-up (if any) because the taxi driver´s here, waiting for her, and the hotel´s booked from today. Quite a panic, then. Plus, I´ve lost her cellphone number (that definitely is my fault), so I´ve had to fire off several mails, hoping they´ll make their way to her by bush telegraph. Fingers crossed.

Anyway, I´ve managed to arrange a cab share, so I´m heading off to Portillo. Hopefully, Sylv will catch me up. I´m sure I´ll look back on this one and laugh....

Oh, quick mention for Patricio, a taxi supervisor who has been looking after me very well, doing all the negotiation and - I think - not trying to fleece an ignorant tourist. What a nice man...

Of course, if the driver pulls over on a deserted road and orders me out at gunpoint, I´ll have a pretty good idea why. Ciao.

Prelude...

So here I am, on the eve of departure. I'm off to Chile tomorrow night. And I appear to have lost the ability to string words together. 'Stilted' is, I think, the word. So what do I expect? Let's start with that, then...

So, first up, I'm flying to Santiago and meeting a girl I've only spent a few days with. Now, please understand that this isn't some random 'internet' date. She's a friend-of-a-friend I met in St. Anton in January (on another snowboarding trip). Anyway, due to circumstances, we both find ourselves with a little spare cash and a lot of spare time. So we're going snowboarding in Chile. Obviously.

So that's the circumstances. We're going from Santiago to Portillo (oop int' mountains) where we're we're staying for (I think) five days - in separate four-bed dorms (which are not nearly as cheap as you'd expect, believe me). Single-sex too (I'm thinking Friday night - y'know, once I've recovered from the flight). Actually, it means we'll meet quite a few people, but will not be sharing a room together. God, this is going to be interesting in so many ways. Anyway, from there, we go back to Santiago, where we hook up with the tour group - ten peeps and two guides - for tres mucho off-piste boarding, hiking up volcanos, crazy couloirs (look it up), etc. After that, we have a few days where we can please ourselves - more boarding, or perhaps a spot of wine touring, depending on what state our bodies are in. Very exciting, although strangely, I'm not particularly buzzing and, indeed, haven't actually started packing yet.

I thought I'd write this now to see what my preconceptions are. The problem is, I don't appear to have any. This is both a good and a bad thing, I guess. Sylv's Polish-American, and I don't know her that well. That's bit of a concern (that I don't know her well, not that she's American...although...), but I'm sure we'll get on okay - both being easy going and, after all, both concerned that this trip is going to work. I'm aware, though, that my sense of humour can take a bit of getting used to (it's intrinsically sarcastic). We shall see. My back hurts too. It feels like sciatica. Actually, it feels like what I think sciatica might feel like, since I've never actually had it. I know, of course, what sciatica feels like because I looked it up on t'internet (as Peter Kaye would say). I'm worried about that, though. I hope a spot of boarding loosens it up and gets rid of it. We shall be fine, and we shall have a blast, as long as I turn my enthusiasm up to 'American' levels. I tend to be quite deadpan, even when excited and, for instance, don't find myself yelling 'Wooh! Yeah! Awesome!', having done a particularly steep piece of terrain. Rather, in a typically English, understated, born-one-vodka-below-par kinda way, I'd say, 'Gosh, that was quite scary, wasn't it.', while trying to keep from keeling over.

Actually, while we're on the subject of the great 'divided by a common language' debate, 'sick' is another word that's got me going. Sick, in snowboarding parlance, apparently, means 'crazy, awesome, extreme and cool'. I just can't get used to saying it. Y'know why? Because the first time I met an American guy on the slopes, he said to me, with extreme enthusiasm, 'Wow, I've been doing the sickest shit all day!' (the exclamation should, really, be implicit). I had to fight hard to supress a growing smirk as he said that, as I could only imagine he'd spent the morning indulging in a spot of sexual deviance in some slopeside dungeon-chalet...

So, we're going to be fine and, as I write this, I feel my enthusiasm growing. It's going to be an experience, and I just hope I can keep this diarising up, even if it's in the form of notes I can come back to later.

In other news, since I'm building up a head of literary steam...

'Twas my last day of gainful employment on Friday. I've been in that particular job since leaving university, five years ago. I've had ten months' notice, and I'm receiving a rather chunky payout, which I'm very happy about. Stepping back, I'm very happy with the situation, since five years is long enough in a first job, and to leave with a free wedge of cash is, quite literally, an added bonus. On a micro level, though, it's, well, very strange indeed. I didn't go to work today for no other reason than I had no work to go to. Also, while I'm very well off by average standards (that's what a job in The City does for you), I've suddenly started thinking about what I spend. This is, of course, ridiculous, since, if I amortise my payout into a monthly 'salary', I can keep going in the manner to which I've become accustomed for, probably, about a year. That would be a waste, but it means I really shouldn't worry too much right now.

So that's it for now. Lots to do tomorrow (including packing!). The adventure starts here. Well, actually it starts tomorrow, but that wouldn't quite such a neat conclusion, would it? Not that this is, either, mind you. Oh, bugger it, the next time I write I'll be in Chile.