Breakfast: scrambled eggs, boiled sausage, a croissant, yogurt with Kellogg's granola, a few slivers of pink and white grapefruit. Orange juice. An American breakfast. You can take the girl out of America, but you can't take America out of the girl.
This morning we go skiing. It's wet, slushy snow. My American breakfast is growling in my stomach. I fall several times, wipe out yard-sale style. Rick and David are bored and feeling sorry for me. It must be like skiing with a child.
Lunch: I'm becoming familiar with the layout of the buffet stations. This time I eat farfalle, cod, sauteed spinach, pizza with raclette, a lamb chop. Cheese plate. A few bites of dessert. 1/2 a glass of wine.
Energized for the afternoon with our ski instructors, Antoine and Eric. Skiing is incrementally better in the afternoon, but note to self: I need more practice. Maybe I should become a ski bum for a year, or a GO at Club Med - I could teach step aerobics or something.
Dinner: Kate has planned a dinner at Le Serac, the specialty restaurant this evening. It's all white leather, with lavender hues. We start with 2 bottles of Moet. Then a lovely St. Emilion.
I didnt eat the amuse bouche, because I'm still sipping tequila. Duck carpaccio with unidentifiable cheese follows. I choose the cod vs. the veal. A cheese plate. A blueberry tart follows. By this point, I'm tired and drunk, which must be the reason that we go to the lounge to dance some more.
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