Desperately seeking Poutine

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Last night the snow fell hard and this mornings view was to be commended. We are shacked up at the Westin in Whistler, where you literally walk out the front door and onto the chairlift.

A skiing holiday is not like a beach resort holiday, where you dump your bags and hit the deck chair, book in hand. There is much work to be done to ensure that everyone is happy. You require a lot of gear, which is cumbersome to carry around. Already we have a lost glove situation which occurred even before the first run was sked. (a new word I just made up)

They boys are in ski school all day. It was quite alarming to see the size of some of the kids, ankle height with teeny tiny skis, but although they be small, they are also fearless. It is like a big international gathering of tiny people, all unrecognisable with their helmets and goggles.

Although when it comes to a lot of the staff working on the mountain, if you closed your eyes and listened, I swear you could have thought that you were in Australia. So many Aussies work here. And we are apparently a nation of coffee snobs, which I think we all knew. Northern Americans will drink anything that vaguely resembles coffee, yet Aussie order it with very strict instructions, mainly requesting a double or even triple shot. Anything to get the actual taste of coffee through all that milk.

Last night the Woog family was in the perfect storm of various states of jet lag. It was not pretty my friends. Not pretty at all. There was a knock on the door and they kids were presented with a large hot chocolate each, and a large cookie. There was a card with it.

“Horatio and Jack, Welcome to Canada! Sincerely, Angus and Archie.”

Turns out it was from an Australian Family who are currently living in the town of Kitimat, in Northern British Columbia, whose Mum Vanessa reads this blog! Honestly, sometimes people make my heart sing. How bloody lovely is that. (and I of course took a chocolate chip cookie tax, much to the boys chagrin.)

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And the food…. THE FOOD! Sweet Mary Mother of all things Maple. Holiday calories don’t count do they?

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Bowing down at the altar of Bacon.

Today I am going in search of a mythical foodstuff known as poutine. Google it. I am not sure if I will be delighted or horrified. But anything to keep me away from the marvellous creation, known as the CINNABUN!

Yours in gluttony,

Mrs Woog

PS. Send stretchy pants.