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.