Ski trip to the French Alps

It was an excellent start to the ski trip. I had packed clothes, food, study materials, electronics + chargers, toiletries, white sheets for the toga party. I had helped a friend get both our luggages to the bus stop just on time, with the help of a shopping trolley. The bus was due to leave in 15 minutes. Then I realised I had forgotten the one most important thing for a ski trip ... my ski jacket! I ran all the way back home to my own apartment to retrieve my jacket and onwards to the opposite side of town to the bus stop to get my friend's ski sunnies. I was well warmed up for the slopes.

We drove past the Rotterdam city lights, with its towering Euromast in the distance, we drove into Belgium with its French road signs, then we entered Luxumbourg where the petrol and groceries were cheap and there were 5 kg tubs of Nutella. What struck me, now a true Dutch local, were the hills and gradients. This was a real novelty coming from such a flat land.
As the bus drove through the night down the length of France to the French Alps, I stretched myself out at the front of the second-floor of bus getting a relatively comfortable liedown. When the sun rose, I popped my head up and was greeted with the snow and morning light of the French alps. As we drove through these rural mountainous French towns, the brown buildings, church spires, iron gratings, and plaster walls with upper case and cursive signs reminded me of Da Lat, Vietnam, which also has French influence and a mountain lifestyle in cold mountain air.
When we arrived, all the luggage went into a shipping container, all the skiwear came on, and it was straight to the ski hire shop, then the slopes.
The next day, my routine was morning ski, lunch afternoon ski, après-ski studying for my exams, one of which is due on the day after coming back to Leiden, then dinner with my Portugese and Costa Rican roommates Filipe and Esteban.