Lucky Spaniard cheats death on the Vallée Blanche

Skiers on the Vallee Blanche
Uploaded by Chamonix Experience

At 11.30am last Thursday morning, a 38 year-old Spaniard, Fernando Gaspar Estevez Carvadjal , was knee-deep in powder on the Vallée Blanche when he skied straight into a crevasse at 3,500m, near the Italian border. From then on, his fate was somewhere between the hands of Mother Nature and Lady Luck. The latter got an early head start as the skier re-emerged onto the world-famous off-piste run after an exhausting three hour climb, but by then the rest of the skiing fraternity were nowhere to be seen and a two-day snowstorm had settled on the Mont Blanc.

Enterprising Fernando was not about to let this turn of events get the better of him, and dug a snow-cave which was home for the following 48 hours. Staying calm, awake and moving his extremities continually, he was able to avoid the ill-effects of the cold. He was eventually spotted by a group of Italian skiers when the weather cleared. Speaking to the local press from his hospital bed in Chamonix, suffering from only mild exposure, he is keen to point out that separating yourself from a group is not a particularly cunning plan, especially in such an unforgiving environment. That said, the mountains have been uncharacteristically forgiving this weekend - a snowboarder in a similar pickle to our Fernando has survived 24 hours outside in the snowstorm blowing over Les Deux Alpes, in Isère.

Rosbif's remortgage plans gets stuck on red tape

Interesting that the word mortgage has the word "mort" in it, which in French means "death"...
Originally uploaded by Vimrod1

There's no doubt that France, with its gastronomie, wines, and scenery is more than a half decent place to park yourself for a few years. It's especially important to bear in mind the positives whenever you have to deal with bureaucracy of any kind. Having quite literally pulled all my hair out (well, it just sort of fell out really) dealing with this grim side of expat life, it was with a due sense of dread and foreboding that the Rosbif family descended on our friendly neighbourhood mortgage consultant this morning.

Having listened intently to our questions, nodding efficiently and encouragingly, he had a simple set of answers, beginning with one word - 'Non'.

'Is it possible to remortgage on our house as it's now worth more than we paid for it? You know, like 70 million Brits have done?'
'Eh ben, Non.'

At this point he attempted to translate 'remortgage' into French, something like 'rehypotecher' came out, but you could see his evident displeasure at inventing such a non-existant and patently non-desirable addition to the French lexique. He looked, if you'll pardon the vulgarity of the expression, like he was licking piss off a thistle.

'If we lost our jobs, can we postpone payments?'
'Non'

'Can we give you your money back quicker if some good fortune lands in our laps?
'Mais oui!'

This type of conversation is as embedded in the French culture as a coffee after your midday meal. The answer's always 'no', even if you do ask. Far be it for me to gripe publicly about the French way of doing things, perhaps their cautiousness in the lending department may save them from some of the woes spreading through the more liberal marketplaces.

And anyway, I can't help remembering a garage man in rural Northern France, who took in two grubby chain-smoking students from England (your truly the one half of the duo), with not a franc to rub together, fixed their clapped out Opel Kadet, and gave them some money for the ride home. All with a smile and a affable 'adieu!' as they chugged off the forecourt.

One in 60 million?