What a week!!
Firstly it was so nice to get away from the UK. January is possibly the drabbest and longest month of the year.
The anticlimax after Christmas, the grey weather, combined with the longest wait for payday ever!
We cancelled our ski trip on 30th December, due to added travel restrictions and general faff.
We then begged out travel agent, Jane, to get it back for us on the 5th January, due to a change in the faff and said restrictions.
I’m so glad we rebooked it. Not for my benefit, a ski holiday is most certainly not for me. It’s solely for Chris. He asks for nothing. He gives so much. Not just to me (although I am the main beneficiary of his generosity), but to everyone. He is the kindest, most incredible human being I’ve ever met.
So for someone that asks for so little in return, it was important to go on holiday to do something he loves doing. He only found a passion for skiing about 5 years ago. He hadn’t wanted to give it a go before then.
But he (we) tried it, and he loved it. Me? Not so much!
I have managed the basic premise of skiing. I can actually ski (albeit at a very very beginners level). But what I can’t do is use the chair lifts, button lifts, or any lifts to be honest.
Which meant I couldn’t progress. I can’t get up the mountain to ski back down it, which is a little restrictive, for a hobby that involves both activities.
I have a fear of heights…no, hold on, correction. I have a fear of falling from heights, rather than the height itself.
This holiday is his gift for being the man he is. He is my everything. Best friend, constant Knight in shining armour…general superhero in this story of life.
So we set off on the Saturday morning, a big group but slightly smaller than it was originally going to be. Ben found the holiday, and everyone tagged onto the trip. There were meant to be sixteen of us, but four of our friends had to pull out at the last minute.
Which left Chris and I on the trip with Ben and Kaitlyn, and ten of their friends. Which wasn’t a problem, they’re all lovely people.
Top from M&S, Leggings from Next, Boots from Jimmy Choo & Moonboot
So off we head to the slopes of Bulgaria. I had some trepidation. We’ve only ever been to Austria for our ski trips before. I know where I am with Austria. I had never been to Bulgaria ever.
We arrived in the mountain resort of Borovets.
It’s an interesting place.
We stayed at the best hotel…at the cheapest ski resort in Europe.
The people at this resort take some getting used to.
They are simultaneously the scariest, angriest, most menacingly, intimidating people…but also the warmest and welcoming. It’s very confusing. Very very confusing. It takes a few days to get used to it to be honest.
If you’d asked me at the beginning of the holiday would I being going on a ski trip again, any ski trip, no matter where in the world it was, I’d have said no.
But actually, I really warmed to this cold climate, this odd mountain resort.
It would have been a hard no! But now, after the entire week there, not only would I go on another ski holiday, I’d go back to this village. Which I find very surprising, and I think my friends who I was contacting back in England, crying about how bored and lonely I was, would be very surprised too.
I was incredibly bored. I had a book to read. But still, being alone in a foreign country is a bit miserable (unless you like that sort of thing, I don’t really).
I had to give myself a really good talking to. 1, I’m fit and healthy. 2, I’m lucky to get to go on holiday, any holiday, especially after the last two years. 3, pull your head in lady, suck it up, this holiday isn’t for you!!!
So I decided to enjoy it, even if it wasn’t flowing naturally.
Look for the positives. We had an amazing room with piste view. Can’t ask for better really.
Chris wanted ski in, ski out. I wanted something nice to look at.
I made sure I went for at least one walk a day. I read my book. I went to the spa. All solitary hobbies. All achievable.
Chris and the ski gang skied, and I met up with them occasionally for lunch, hot chocolate and apple pie…mostly all three at the same time.
I only found things to take part in and enjoy on the second to last day; I now know for next time we go. Which means I have things to look forward to.
On one of the days, prior to finding things I enjoyed, I decided to break up the monotony and brave the cable car.
I had asked how long a journey in the gondola was, they said “oh, about 25 minutes”.
I, for some reason assumed they meant it in the very British exaggerating way.
…reader…they did not!!
Twenty five excruciatingly long minutes!!! And that was just to get to the top. The real problem began when I realised I’d have to get back down again.
Oh my Lordy, I’m surprised you didn’t hear my wails from here!
I have learned to go in the ones in Austria. I have survived them. A bit of swearing and crying involved, but I manage.
This ride had me in a meltdown of terror.
Don’t believe her smile. She’s throwing a wobbler in between photos. Hahahahaha
The views are breathtaking. It’s very very beautiful. But this was a one time only experience. No way will it ever be repeated.
Chris very kindly came back down in the gondola with me. He decided to skip the red runs attached to the gondola ride.
At the beginning of last year he injured his back. So severely he lost function in his left leg. He had to wear this little calliper contraption to lift his foot for him as there was no power in it. The nerve was so compressed in his back, he lost feeling and function.
So for him to be out skiing (out walking properly come to that) is a huge achievement.
But he’s still cautious not to over do it. And the run down from the gondola station may well have been a step (ski) too far.
Well, that mixed with concern for me getting back down I imagine.
I was begging to be allowed to walk back down. But it would be a good 5 hour walk, in minus 5. This apparently wasn’t an option.
We eventually got back in the gondola. I hyperventilated to the bottom. We called friends, to just take my mind off the impending doom I felt on it.
In fairness to me, the gondola was erected in the 80s, and there was a big gap where the doors no longer shut properly.
You will be unsurprised to hear, we made it back down in one piece. In my heart I probably knew that. But fear just got the better of me.
We had apple pie and a hot chocolate at the bottom to celebrate!
There are few things in life as restorative as apple pie up a mountain. :)
If you are bold enough to fly off on holiday with a stoma, it’s a good idea to check with your airline if you can carry extra luggage, to take into account your stoma supplies. It’s definitely worth asking. Plus always always take enough stoma products for the duration of the holiday in your hand luggage. I never leave it to chance.
I take way more than I could ever need too. I made that mistake once. We live and learn.
Chris bought me this cute ski top from Spyder. It’s a perfect match to my ski holiday experience. A blonde lady sitting up a mountain in a deck chair watching the world go by. Yep, hello, that’s me! :)
But!! I didn’t just sit and watch this time. This time I actually participated in snow fun. Not ski fun.
I discovered a passion for Ski-doos!! Fantastic fun! And only £35 for an hour’s ride out in the forest.
This is one of the up sides to going to Bulgaria. Full fun, half the price!
Top from Holland Cooper, Trousers from Next, Boots from Moncler
Instagram vs reality…
I did enjoy snowy walks in the forest. It is spectacularly beautiful. A good value destination and attractive scenery. I don’t want more than that from a ski trip really.
I would advise you avoid the free tipples the restaurants and bars hand out though. If you’re getting something for free, the establishment hasn’t paid much for it.
Quite a few of the group ended up with the shits, and I believe it was possibly the shots that caused the shits.
I took my place as school trip nurse. Because I always carry tablets for every eventuality. I have Imodium, laxatives, cold and flu remedies, lactaid etc etc on my person at all times. I come in very handy. :)
FYI, I held the glass for the purposes of this photo. I didn’t consume it. I don’t drink alcohol in the UK, I’m certainly not going to drink free stuff in a foreign country, no matter how insistent the proprietor is…and be warned, they are very very insistent. Hahahahaha
It’s not all outdoors fun on a ski holiday.
I spent time at the pool and the spa too. It’s terribly hard work, you can see why I was a moany bitch at the beginning of the holiday. ;)
I prefer a bikini to a one piece costume. Always have. Probably always will.
Should you wear a bikini if you have a stoma of any kind?
Well, the answer to that is very simple. Yes!! If you want to, then definitely yes!
There will be some that don’t want to wear one, stoma or not. And that’s ok too.
Wear what makes you happy.
No one should be put off of wearing one, wearing anything they want to come to that.
I’m not embarrassed by having a colostomy. If anything I’m proud of it. The surgery to get one is huge, really really huge.
So I see it as a badge of honour. Look what tried to kill me but failed miserably - look how far I’ve come.
I see all scars in the same way. Anything you’ve survived has made you the person you are today.
Be they wounds you can see or not.
I’ve often been asked “but don’t people stare at you or give you funny looks?”
Truth is, yes, sometimes people stare. But I don’t think it’s in a malicious way. I think it’s just a natural curiosity. We are after all very curious creatures.
For every person that has stared, I’ve re-educatd them. They may have thought one thing about stomas. But here I am, bold as brass, loving life. Living it to the full!
It wasn’t quite warm enough to sunbathe in my bikini on the balcony. But definitely warm enough to top up my tan in a thermal vest and woolly hat. :)
Jumper from TK Maxx, Leggings from Quiz, Boots from Moncler.
Did anyone ever say to you “it’s not a fashion show!”
Well, actually, yes it is!!
As I don’t ski, I definitely want to look the part. Who cares what I wear? Well, me! I like to dress the best I can, wherever I happen to be in the world. Why? I don’t bloody know. It’s just who I am! Hahahahaha.
Shallow? Vapid? Vain? Guilty on all charges. :)
This was best day of the year so far, with the most magical, enchanting sleigh ride through the woods.
£30 for a half an hour. Which was perfectly long enough in minus 4.
After days and days of boredom, we (I) found the toboggan hire shop. Not ideal timing as the snow had come down so heavily it was impossible to propel down the slope.
I spent a lot of the time laying in the snow peeing myself laughing.
Back to the hotel for an ice bathe.
If you saw Kendall Jenner’s Instagram. She said “Wim Hof said ice baths”
Well, if it’s good enough for Kendall it’s good enough for the rest of us too.
Do I look like Kendall Jenner? No!
Does anyone? Does Kendall even?
(I hope she’s happy and healthy. I wish only good things for her. But I feel no desire to emulate her. I didn’t look like her when I was her age. So why would I waste one minute of my life and berate myself for not looking like that at 48, colostomy bagged and a grandma.
My advice is enjoy what you have right now in this minute. Don’t look to anyone else for incentives or validation or comparison).
See yourself through other people’s eyes. People that love and adore you. See what they see. Don’t allow your internal negative comments to leak into your headspace.
Do I look the best? No, most certainly not. But I love what I see in the mirror. I am me. I am happy. I am alive. I am free of the expectations I use to demand of myself…and It feels amazing.
So, we had a fantastic last few days. I say we. The others had a fabulous time skiing for the whole week. Even the ones who were still learning, and therefore still in the tantrum/frustration stage of their ski journey.
But I had the best last few days. Doing fun things and being occupied. And doing things with people I love.
Our hotel was really good. I’d not only recommend the Rila, but I will go back again next year too.
The area is a bit of a thinker. But with a blanket of snow everywhere looks magical.
The food in the hotel (we were half board) wasn’t incredible, but definitely edible.
Things I know for next time. They serve waffles at breakfast, but no syrup to put on them (take your own maple).
They serve the thin sweet, crepe type pancakes, again, with nothing to go on them. But I devised a cunning plan. I took the lemon slices from the teas and coffee station area, and packets of sugar. I made my own pancake day. :)
I’d recommend Papa Mia’s for hot chocolate and apple pie.
Katina for good value, good food. (Chris had the best lamb chops of his life there).
There’s a restaurant called Victoria, which we didn’t try but looks amazing. We’ll go next time.
The ski passes ran out on the Friday evening. Our flight back to the uk was Saturday night.
But rather cleverly Crystal Holidays have a day trip excursion, for £24. So rather than sitting bored stiff in the hotel for the entire day, we set off for a guided city tour of Sofia.
It was like a little city break tacked onto the end of a holiday.
Things to note;
Wrap up warm. It was minus 7. (We soft southerners are not used to it).
Expect to walk far! We walked six miles. Although that does serve to keep you warm.
There’s a historical talk and tour. If you don’t like either. It’s probably not for you.
Sofia is beautiful. And the people are warmer than the mountain folk can be.
The cathedral is a must. And well worth the £5 to be able to take photos inside.
I always light candles wherever I go in the world. I light one for people no longer here. And the other for the people that are. No, I know, I’m not religious. But remembering loved ones is spiritual rather than religious.
It was bitingly, unbelievably cold.
You wouldn’t necessarily fly to Sofia for a city break. But added to the end of a ski trip it was a great addition to the holiday.
All in all, a fantastic holiday. I was swallowing down laxatives at the same rate the others were taking Imodium. Any detour to my routine and I tend to get bunged up. I wasn’t jealous of their having the shits. But there was definitely some feelings heading towards that emotion.
We rested Sunday, unpacked and washed all the clothes. The worst day of having a holiday is trying to get straight again after. But at least I have fond memories of the holiday to see me through.
On Monday afternoon Chris had a meeting in London. He asked me if I wanted to tag along (not for the meeting, what use would I be!?! I can’t write anything down (I’m 48 and my mum has to proof read this blog, and even then I can’t always see what she’s trying to get me to change. Writing as a hobby maybe an odd choice for a dyslexic).
But he said while he was in the meeting I could go shopping…hello! Yes please!! :)
I had this big plan. I was going to go to Harrods, to their swim wear department. My hopes were high! It’s Harrods! Of course they’re going to have many beautiful bikinis for me to choose from.
At one time Harrods tag line was that you could buy anything you desire from there. Hence the whole Harrods lion.
If a lion was once possible, then a bikini for a larger lady surely isn’t too much to ask?
….it was…
I walked into the department and asked a shop assistant if they had anything to fit me.
….she looked me up and down (in a kindly way) and said “oh, err, well, ummm, I’m, I’m not too sure”
I said I need about a 14/16 (UK size, so 10/12 US size).
She said they had very little stock in. (Bit weird) She found a couple. And I mean a couple. Just two options, a third followed, once she had rummaged through the stockroom.
I was willing to pay whatever they cost. I just wanted to feel good in it.
Well the one that fit the best, still didn’t give me the wow factor. (Not £270 of wow at any rate).
I was no more blown away by it than I am with my bikinis from Sainsbury’s and Tesco, for £12 a pop.
I was struggling to comprehend that barrenness of this shopping experience. Even the ones that said they were a size UK 14, weren’t in fact a real size UK 14.
The swimwear collections were for Kendall Jenner-esque types. And I think we are pretty well aware they are rare, especially in a store like Harrods.
Their customers are often older, and more rounded on the edges.
Anyway, I usually love Harrods, I have one of their reward cards, it’s very good, it’s free to get one. It’s just like a Tesco clubcard. So if we’re looking to buy something we tend to buy it there and get the Harrods clubcard points. We bought a fancy fizzy water maker, from Aarke there the other week, it was actually cheaper in there than we’d seen it elsewhere, plus we got the points for it. (FYI, they love it when you refer to them as clubcard points hahahahaha).
After a somewhat disappointing shopping trip. I came out of one of the side doors of Harrods and found myself at Rigby & Peller.
Bra makers to the Queen. Well if it’s good enough for her maj then it’s good enough for me. ;)
I found a really lovely bikini in there. I bought the bikini top and 2 different style bottoms. One bikini, two different looks.
Plus I bought a new bra in there, which is nothing short of like sinking into a cloud. My boobs are very grateful.
Dress from Nobody’s Child, Tights from Tesco, Boots from Gucci, Coat from Aubin and Wills, Bag from Burberry
For £270 I want to be blown away by it to buy it. I was not.
Chris and I met up after he’d finished his meeting. Dinner at Chutney Mary had been calling to us the whole time we were away on holiday.
Oh it was worth the wait. The food was, as always amazing.
Their Butter chicken, Afghani chicken and Daal make my heart so happy. Definitely ones to try if you are ever passing.
Although my love of copious amounts of curry could have something to do with why I don’t look like Kendall Jenner…that and the whole genetics, metabolism, age, life choices and experience etc etc. ;)
**************
Just discovered there is a book about the Harrods lion. Should you be interested.
I hope you are well. I hope you have lovely things to look forward to this year. God knows we could all do with it. xx
Weirdly. 2 hours after I wrote my blog. An article appeared in the Mail online about one of the owners of the Harrods lion passing away.
An odd and very sad coincidence.
