Oh what a race.

Transfer day is like no other day in the seasonaire's week. The mere mention of the day is enough to bring even veteran hosts and reps out in cold sweats. The day is unpredictable, unplannable and capricious in its deliverance and yet the premise is simple; old guests leave, new guests arrive. Now factor in baggage, equipment, diverse travel itineraries, french drivers, mountain weather, french traffic and general all round sods law, it soon becomes as mysterious well something really mysterious.

The best way your host can describe it, is as a race. A race between the reps and the hosts, set over the distance of a marathon while run at the pace of a sprint. The hosts win if they can escort old guests out, clean the chalet and cook food before the new guests arrive. The reps win if they can surprise the hosts with their new guests before they're at all ready. A race your host nearly won but the mountain gods have seen fit to with hold snow, it rained yesterday, and present another batch of really nice guests, including grandmothers, so some things do work out for the better.

Week two is rhythm week, its the time to find the routine. That winning combination of time management and corner cutting that allows for the maximum slope time. Its about honing the hospital bed fold, its about finding a hoover that works and keeping it hidden from all others, it about breaking down the work into its tetris like building blocks and then rearranging them into the optimal pattern.

Bring on the turkey.

First Guests

So we rejoin the action halfway through the first week of paying guests, those who bought discounted holidays chancing green pistes and greener hosts. So far so good, just about. We are finding our hosting feet gradually, fortunately no major cock ups as yet. And perhaps more miraculously no green pistes, the snowfall here has been relentless. But the seasonnaire gods must have been smiling for on the Wednesday us hosts rest. And on this Wednesday the sun came out and kissed the slopes, revealing the majesty of the Tarentaise Alps.

With such heavy snowfall the pisteurs have constantly battled the threat of avalanche, leaving many of the runs closed due to maintenance. The morning chorus of dynamite blasts and helicopter blades echo through the valleys as huge shelves of snow are cleared from the mountain side. So while one sector of french alpine staff works tirelessly (or so it seems) to ready the mountains for the hordes of brits. A second sector, the french handimen, slack off every day leaving your host with a number of issues unfixed.

Issues which the guests love to bring up, such as the lack of heating in the communal area and the poorly designed chimney that shoots ash and soot and smoke back into the chalet. What they fix with one hand they tend to break with the other thus maintaining a steady supply of issues, perhaps this is why they are called maintenance. Perhaps they are charged with some holy equilibrium of dilapidation that at all costs must be maintained.

It is a sobering thought that each guest will have paid around £1000 for the privilege of eating your food and sharing your company, and skiing in one the largest ski areas in the alps I guess. Standards are high and rules are set in stone. And yet we must be water, adaptable and pliant to the whims of management and guests. Your host will be vigilant for the erosion of the rules, but maybe this is where efficiency stems from, the erosion of those rules which are more akin to limestone than granite. Who knows, your host is no geographer.

Waiting for Paradiski

Sometimes time moves fast, at other points it drags and sometimes stops altogether. You don't have to be patient to work here but it helps. From the embarkation point in the car park of the Madjeski Stadium we have become well practiced in the mysterious and tedious art of waiting. Waiting for the coach, waiting to board the coach, waiting for one driver to break his wrist, waiting to find out whether we wait for a replacement. And then there was the waiting for the Ferry, waiting to get off the ferry, waiting for the replacement driver at Charles De Gaulle. Not to mention the waiting at various stops, snow chains on, snow chains off, snow chains on again.

This is a big operation by any means, when you transport of hundreds of mostly green season staff in tens of coaches over hundreds of miles something is bound to go south somewhere. Yet at each point the wait and lack of knowledge becomes more grating and harder to bear. So far the staff have proved brilliant, relaying information when they receive it themselves. Yet the French Alps are a law unto themselves, and when it comes to it, so are the French coach drivers.

Your host's accommodation is a step above basic perhaps, 4 guys will eventually fill the apartment leaving very little room for movement or breathing. The apartment is in a block away from the chalets, which has its positives and negatives. On the up side, we can make noise, we can drink and do what we like within reason. On the downside, its a 10 minute trudge through a warren of buildings and corridors to reach the chalets where we will ply our trade. When you factor in the walk to and from, with skis and such it soon eats into any planned ski time during the day.

And so while your host has waited outside coaches, inside coaches, on ferries, in youth hostels and apartment foyers, there is still one thing which we are all waiting for. We wait for the opening of the chair lifts, for the powder and pristine pistes. Oh and the guests of course.

Remember the Mussels?

Today we bring you the soup which follows so well from the Moules Marinier the other week. This is a dead simple and tasty soup, be sure to have loads of crusty bread to soak up all the flavour. As with any leftover dish you can add whatever you have the flavours in this soup are fairly strong, if it tastes nice with spice or white wine you should be fine.

You will need. - Serves about 4, 5 at a push.
The cream and wine stock from the Mussels. I had about 1 litre
1 Fennel bulb
1 Leek
Paprika
Chilli Powder

Method.

1. Finely shred the Fennel and Leek. Sweat until soft in a large sauce pan.
2. Add the Paprika and Chilli Powder. Start with 1 teaspoon of each. You can always add, its more tricky to take out.
3. Once the spice has cooked into the greens, and before it all starts to burn, pour in the stock. Add in any cream and/or leftover wine.
4. Bring to the boil, make sure it is boiled through. Leave it a few minutes, might need stirring.
5. Add in some fresh parsley.
6. Serve with oven warmed bread.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow...

Time is a funny thing. There, now that's out the way. Months of planning and organisation (and a couple of days where everything actually got done) are well behind your host now. Ready to board the bus to pistures new.

Like any good trip, your host has put in the minimum required planning and research. This not only cuts down on effort but it allows for the place to unfold by itself. Of course a bit of back story can transform an experience, too much though and it begins to prejudice the eyes of the beholder. At least that is how your host is justifying it.

So, fully equipped and awaiting the final embarkation, your host sits on the event horizon ready to tip forwards and fall feet first into the new. I wonder how big the coach will be?