The ski virgins took to the slopes today. Actually, Ber is quite the accomplished skiier by now and LK has had one outing prior to this trip so I was the only true newbie. Somewhat apprehensive about what to expect but it turned out to be more fun than I thought.

Like diving, however, it is fiddly, though not quite as equipment-intensive. First of all you have to get into water ski gear, which I had thanks to Mae generously lending me her suit, beanie and gloves. Then you need a pair of heavy ski boots which clip into skis. All this you must get measured out for. You also need ski poles, lots of sunblock and a pair of shades. Once we got kitted out we lumbered over to our beginners' class, which had about 20 people in it! Our instructor, Dave, made a weak joke about going slow for the sake of the Aussies, and we began. We learnt to shuffle sideways, make a wedge with our skis and attempt to stop ourselves that way.

It started to get fun but for the most part, Dave was a right w***ker. He was basically not psyched to be teaching us. In fact he concentrated his time on the best skiiers of the group, who needed the least help, frankly. There were two small ladies in our class who must have been in their 50s (they had Singapore accents) who just could not manage to stay upright on their skis. They fell many times and not once did he go over to help them. In the end they gave up on the class and didn't turn up for the afternoon session. I hope they got their money back.

We practised turning a bit before breaking for lunch, which we had at the cafeteria. Sitting down, I realised how tired I actually was... it is hard work! After lunch, we went back for more. This time we got on a higher part of the slopes via the Magic Carpet and then the chair lifts. I also knew I was getting tired because I had not fallen one time in the morning and in the afternoon I had six or seven falls. Not once did w***ker Dave come to my, or anyone's rescue. In fact, he got very stressed that a few of us was holding the class up. Everyone's waiting, he kept urging, as though we were deliberately stalling. I wanted to smack him with my skis, and probably should have. By the time we got to the bottom of the Big Easy, he had actually f***ed off. Great job, Dave. It was Ember who came to my rescue a couple of times and another time, the instructor from the other group helped me release my ski. I wish we had gotten her instead.

Well, five plus hours of skiing left us in no shape for any apres ski, at least not yet. We rolled ourselves home and rested for a bit before we went for dinner at the Bunker. That was completely awesome. It's a tiny place, about six or seven tables, and a roaring fireplace. The waiters were extremely attentive (one occasion when Ber inhaled wrongly and began coughing, all three of them whipped their heads in our direction to see if she needed help), the wine was good and the food was simply heavenly. I had crayfish risotto to start with and wished I had a main course serving, as it was divine. Delicate flavour of shellfish, crunch chunks of crayfish in a lovely stock and shavings of parmesan drizzled with crayfish oil. I was in heaven. LK had the most tender lamb rack for a main and I had a delish duck confit. Ember had the tenderloin but neither of us wanted to try it as she of course had to have it done to a crisp.

We rolled out of the place and my two greedy companions insisted they had to have hot chocolate for dessert. I do admit the hot choc smelt amazing but I would have thrown up to eat or drink anymore...