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Rivers and Mountains

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It was cold and crisp outside the hotel. Slush and ice made our small trip to the door precarious. A tall woman met us. She was the organizer of the trip and the main topic of conversation, which was not usually a good omen. She had very dark skin, which looked more like leather. Her hair was as brittle as stalactites after many years of cold winds throwing it about. Our small group was downcast as across the road there was a five star hotel that looked warm and beckoned us to its large open doors. Whereas in front of us was a small modern ski school that dug into the traditional buildings around it. It barely looked as if it could hold more than 10 people. Ziggy's face was like a contrary image, she was all smiles. My first day however, contradicted my every thought, the skiing was like a dream and even though the instructors could not even speak more than two words of English we learnt a lot. There was a point, though, at which are instructor was so enraged as to find someone had got lost that he skied down the mountain telling us to wait at the top. ...read more.


I was sitting near the front and overheard some of what he was saying, as apparently he could speak English well. He had come from France when he was a young lad with his family; he had first discovered coaches when he was taken for a tour of the Alps, ever since he had been in love. He continually repeated that he had never driven anything but a coach, and that buses were whole different world. He was obviously mad. It seemed he lived in the bus, as there was a mattress in the luggage storage, which when questioned, was dismissed as 'not there'. The seat he sat on had worn down to the very frame it had been made on and seemed to fit to his body as though a fine craftsman had moulded it to his large exterior. The rest of the coach was little more than dire. Some of the seats had been replaced with wooden benches and most of the windows were barely shards. The bus seemed to drive on his will as it appeared to be physically impossible for it to run on anything else. ...read more.


The climax of our week was spent in the five star hotel. Ben came into my room with Hugh and struck me with the idea of exploring the building opposite, I thought this was a good plan as I was intensely bored owing to the fact that skiing was of as there was too much fog up the mountain. We crossed the street and the cold tore at my hat urged on by the wind. The road was slim and winded round the buildings and houses. It was crested with snow and decorated with ice that made the journey across the gap much longer than it should have been. The doorman did not seem to notice as three boys entered the hotel; as soon as we were in the main hall we new this was quite a place to be in. The staircase seemed to lead to heaven, numerous doors led to numerous rooms of leisure. We took the first door that came in our contact. It opened onto a narrow corridor that led like an endless snake deep into the building. We decided to follow it and were surprised to see on every wall pictures of famous people who had stayed at the hotel, ...read more.

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