Weeks 9 & 10: Christmas in Whistler

Firstly, I am 'very' sorry for being lazy and not updating the blog for a while - I really wish I had more free time to sit down and write. And secondly, sorry for the childish nature of the previous blog entry. According to my sister, my dad told my mum not to bother reading it as "it's just loads of rubbish about toilets" - which it is. Looking back on it, it's not a very enlightening blog entry and as far as travel writing goes, it's not exactly Kerouac. So this week I want to write about something much more interesting... 'my quickest vomit'. Only joking.

Since the last blog entry both Christmas and New Year - the double whammy - have come and gone with relatively little fuss. As most of my Christmas Day was spent vacuuming corridors, there really isn't much to talk about there. On Christmas Eve, however, I did make the effort to attend a festive church service with the promise of traditional carols*, readings, free coffee and donations to cover the cost of the free coffee. To my dismay, the service was inexcusably bad; in fact it was a total shambles. The whole thing was based around a PowerPoint presentation which made the supposedly festive service feel like a boardroom meeting. But that was only the start of the problems...

The Vicar clearly had somewhere better to be or was recovering from a really bad hangover. When a carol was sung he would either promptly leave the room or sit with his head in his hands looking a bit depressed. Now this is not the type of behavior you would expect from the man who is supposed to be leading the congregation. He was also chewing gum which added to his image as a lazy university student with a bad attitude being forced to give a presentation after a heavy night at the Student's Union.

He really wasn't vicar material - I mean he hadn't even bothered preparing any notes for his big speech! Instead he chose to ad lib the entire thing which I have to say was a brave move... but I guess it was either that or pull a sickie. He began by confidently announcing "I am Mohammad"; a totally misjudged opening statement that not surprisingly was met with complete shock. The audience started to question whether this guy was a real vicar or if it was just one sick joke. As his sinking monologue progressed it all began to make sense. In the way that only university students know how, the vicar, realising he did not have any material prepared, had craftily recycled what he already knew (the Nativity Story) but told it from a different angle giving the impression that new and interesting ground was being covered.

He decided to 'perform' a naturalistic first-person monologue given by the innkeeper (inappropriately named Mohammad) of the unfolding nativity story. However, his skill at improvisation only stretched so far and the telltale signs of a hastily cobbled together presentation began to show. Long pauses were filled with remarks such as "Hmm... and then what happened?" and he fell into the trap of inserting the word 'think' into every sentence to give the illusion of first-person realism. e.g. "I think there were three wise men", "There was a husband and wife, 'Mary' I think her name was"

After that monologue had sank faster than a concrete manger, it was the turn of the children to deliver a reading entitled "Who's better: Santa or Jesus?". They presented flimsy arguments such as "Santa is only in the North Pole but Jesus is everywhere" and "Santa comes only at Christmas but Jesus is here all the time". What they failed to mention is that if Santa decides that you have been 'naughty' the worse you will end up with is no presents - not an everlasting lifetime in hell. Predictably the kids concluded that Jesus was better which caused the audience to burst out laughing for some reason. Again, this just seemed inappropriate.

So what else is there to say? Skiing has gone from being a polite obligation to a real passion. After a tepid start, I have finally fallen head-over-heels in love with the sport (and thankfully not fallen head-over-heels down the mountain). Although downhill skiing still seems to be 40% fun and 60% panic, this ratio is gradually shifting. In my first couple of lessons, I was told my main problem is 'stopping' which I guess is quite a big problem when you think about it - it is the difference between stopping at the top of a cliff and stopping on a big rock at the bottom. Fortunately my instructor gave me a lifesaving tip: "If you think you are losing control, just fall over on your side". However, I guess this kind of backfired on her part; I soon found out that falling over required a lot less effort and was generally much easier than actually learning the proper stopping technique. So this became my standard way of finishing a run.

However, since that shaky start I have been up on the mountain unaided and have fallen over less than 20 times which is a significant improvement. Well done me etc.

Right, I'd better go. Take care everyone and thank you for reading!

Chris

*As a side note, I found it really interesting to discover that the carol 'Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem' has a totally different tune to the version sung in England. The words and the rhythm of the syllables are the same, but the melody sounds very peculiar. After a quick bit of Wikipedia research, I found out that apparently the American version is the original and the UK version was adapted from another tune by Vaughn Williams! Bit of trivia there...