I went skiing and had an amazing yet terrible experience

The cold, the cost, the travelling, the fact I have the coordination of a drunk flamingo with one leg, and my disdain towards 'ski types'.

But low and behold three weeks ago, there I was, freezing my plums off atop the French Alps covered in snow and riddled with misery. I made Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining look like a EuroMillions winner.

We went to Les Arcs in the French Alps (Image: Newsquest) Don't get me wrong, the day had been a resounding success, but the night? Not my cup of tea, to be frank.

Our resort was Les Arcs, courtesy of ski tour operator Sunweb. Located in Savoie, in the Tarentaise Valley town of Bourg-Saint-Maurice, it was the first purpose-built ski resort constructed from scratch in France.

As soon as we arrived we were blown away by the breathtaking resort and the marauding mountains stretching far beyond the eye could see.

It was a spectacle I'll probably never get to witness again, sadly, as the Alps are worth a visit purely for the views. Waking up, stepping outside and getting lost in their grandeur with a coffee can soothe even the roughest of souls.

But before we could savour what the resort had to offer, myself and a colleague were booked in for skiing lessons. Which were sorely needed.

You can read more about that here.

@uktoday_ I’ve never been skiing before…until now. And learning how to ski isn’t as scary as you think. I headed to @Les Arcs in the French Alps to learn how to ski and this is how it went… #ski #skiing #skiingtiktok #skitok #learningtoski #lesarcs #frenchalps ♬ Asking Twice - BLVKSHP

We had spent the day going back to school, ski school for that matter. Going down the easiest slopes at a lightning 2mph as toddlers sped past was a humbling experience, but a fun one at that.

As we were told several times, we weren't ready for poles yet, but if we had been, I would have been jabbing people at my leisure. It was a beginner slope and several sausages thought they'd show off and bomb it past us within an inch.

Anyway, despite a few choice idiots, the day had been an unforgettable experience and I was looking forward to getting into the depths of the real 'holiday'. Exploring for food and drink.

You are spoilt for choice in Les Arcs, you really are, if you book. We found it quite difficult to find anywhere free - apart from our hotel restaurant - several times.

I headed out alone as my friend had decided he needed a kip after a full day of snow angels, but no matter, I love exploring on my own. 

In the day, it felt like stepping into a picture-perfect postcard you never believed you'd get to visit one day. The shops, the buildings, the fresh blankets of snow that never stopped falling, it was magical in a sense.

But then the night began to creep in and I wanted only one thing. A drink.

There are a few bars to choose from, you're not spoilt, but there are a few. Most have locals in, which I love, it gives the place a much more authentic appeal.

As I stepped into one, several jaws dropped as I stunned all with my GCSE French: "Un vin white wine garcon, s'il vous plait", it never leaves you.

It was a quiet little joint but with that came a warmth and charm. So I had several more glasses.

As time rolled by I didn't even notice the bar had started to fill. And before long the entrancing local dialects of Pascale and Jean Claude were soon drowned out by a chorus of "Daddy, can you pass me your card."

This was no toddler that had sped past me earlier, no, it was a sea of over 20ish-year-olds in rugby shirts.

They liked their fireball whisky (Image: Newsquest) "Time to leave", I thought.

We had been told earlier by our skiing instructor that there was a 'party place' up in the Alps that looked like it would be the place to be that night, so naturally, that's where I headed next.

I made my way back through the shops and buildings that I had passed earlier and the mood had certainly shifted. The charm had dissipated. 

There was an air of rowdiness that filled the streets and not one that I was accustomed to. It was a smog of entitlement.

I noticed several times groups barging past people and forcing others into the snow by hogging the lane, one woman with a baby in a pram even had to suffer it. Maddening, honestly.

But anyway, I had made my way to the gondola and was headed towards the 'party place', or as it's called in Les Arcs, La Folie Douce.

Our ski instructor had called it, it was rammed, but I was ready to embrace it. "Oh we'll have a look, we'll certainly have a look."

And look I did. The people-watching in this place was my idea of heaven. Everyone danced the same, like this ski-baby:

@onherturf If this doesn’t inspire you to have a great week, I don’t know what will. 🥳 (via IG/chachascrew) #skiing #danceparty #snowboarding #fyp ♬ original sound - onherturf

The music was pretty much bob-on as well.

What was at first funny soon became annoying, it was like a scene out of Sean of the Dead, with everyone bobbing their heads and waving their hands in the air in unison.

I went to the bar and asked for a beer. The man - who wasn't wearing a balaclava - replied: "16 Euro please."

16 euros, for a pint. I took another look around and finally knew my level, it had dawned on me. No one in here had ever gone without Sky TV, had they.

So with that in mind, I sifted my way through the Oxbridge zombie crowd to the inside, in the hope of warmth and to get a better feel of the place where I could finally hear again.

It's not a restaurant, it's very much a bar and has several tables that people come and go by.

I was sitting beside a group who were all mostly on their phones and were very much wearing all the right gear, so I thought I'd ask them a few questions such as whether it was their first time here.

The scowl I received, well, you'd be forgiven for thinking I had just asked to benchpress their nana.

One lad looked at me, then smirked at his friend, brother, lover, ruggerz partner, who knows and went back to his phone without reply.

Networking wasn't off to the best of starts.

Fighting back the urge to throw my 16 Euro pint on him, I tucked my tail between my legs and moved elsewhere.

It's a party place, people chat to each other, don't they? Isn't that an expectation almost? Well, not here evidently. It all seemed incredibly secular and downright uncomfortable truth be told.

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I went skiing for the first time and it's not as scary as it looks

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The clientele is, well, how do I put it, a bunch of Tillies and Tarquins with an abundance of silver spoons.

After dark, whether you are down in the town or partying up in the slopes, they litter the place with privilege. Of course, people who come to these places are going to have money, but I've never encountered such a correlating lack of manners before.

For myself, what makes a holiday is the people, whether that be who you go with or who you meet whilst there.

Maybe it was a one-off and maybe I just encountered the worst sort of crowd that night, but give me a stroll through Tuscany any day of the week.