A White Christmas

My eyes blinked open as I realised that I was too hot.
The room was pitch black and I was wrapped up in a duvet burrito.
But as I crept out of bed to opened the curtains to get some more light I was greeted to this.

It was Christmas morning and as I reached for my phone to see what the time was (and instantly regretted not turning the brightness down the previous night) I saw that it was only 7am and I couldn’t believe it. 7o’clock on Christmas morning and I hadn’t been woken up yet!

Because let’s face it, despite being an adult, we all still have that childish joy come Christmas Day.
Which I can totally get on board with… After 9am.

No sooner had I said those words and the chalet came to life.
I clambered out of bed and shuffled my sleepy feet into the living room where we all sat cross-legged on the bed and had a mini Christmas day morning together. After opening pressies we all shuffled down the stairs where our chalet host, Imogen, greeted us with bucks fizz in hand. We all settled down to scrambled eggs and salmon on toast before I ran up the stairs to shimmy into my salopettes, because this Christmas Day? I was hitting the slopes!

I’ve always dreamed of having a White Christmas. It’s been on my bucket list forever. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s that snow is the epitome of winter and every movie ever shows magical lights that twinkle against navy blue skies and a pure white ground, but whatever the reason, this year I finally got to experience it!

I was in La Plagne from the 19th to the 26th of December, and because the days were so warm (curse that sun melting all of the snow!) and the nights were so cold, the conditions were rather icy.

Because of this, we figured our best bet was to head higher to escape the ice and so we clambered in a gondola and made our way over to La Grande Rochette and Roche De Mio where the conditions were significantly better and the views spoke for themselves!

We glided our way across the mountains for 4 hours before I started to get Hangrrry and so we decided to make our way back to Belle Plagne to get a Christmas bite to eat.

After spotting Santa

And taking a quick selfie

I remembered that I had Maoam and Curly Wurlys in my backpack, so I pulled up a patch of mountain to have a little snack whilst taking in the views.

Eventually we made it back and wandered into the centre where we had ourselves a “traditional” Christmas lunch. Ya’know. The thin-based, cheese-covered traditional kind.
Because is there anything better than pizza after a day on the slopes?
(That question was rhetorical because obviously the answer is no).

It was bizarre to be able to explore the little villages dotted around the resort.
Usually when I go on winter holidays I’m out from the moments the lifts open to the moment they close and so I miss out on sun-soaked afternoon walks. But this was different, because I was back at the chalet before two I had the whole afternoon to explore.

Food stands, ski-hire shops, unique personality filled bars and incredible views surround you and whilst there isn’t much to physically explore, being amongst it is enough. And if you head down to Plagne Centre there is a totally epic little bakery which is definitely worth the little (free) ten minute bus ride alone.

After realising that when the sun goes in it’s actually really rather freezing, I made my way back to the chalet for a little nap before Christmas dinner.

It’s an odd feeling to have Christmas dinner at night.
Us Brits are so accustomed to having Christmas dinner at lunch time and then spending the rest of the day on the sofa, because we’re gluttonous pigs when faced with roast potatoes and so we eat so many that the rest of the day is a total write-off, so to have dinner in the evening felt foreign and very very… Sensible!

It’s the second Christmas that I have spent abroad, and whilst I absolutely adored this holiday and having the opportunity to experience a white Christmas, I think next year I’ll stay home, cook and book myself a date with an extra large bowl of roast potatoes.

Because over the holidays?
There really is no place like home.

over and out,
Amy Morgan