My Luv Letter to Gerlos

Dear Gerlos,

From final exams straight into ski boots, because nothing says healthy work-life balance like swapping library stress for frozen fingers and a questionable après-ski playlist.

This Christmas, I escaped to Gerlos with friends who feel like family. You know the kind: same jokes every year, same routines, same chaos, but somehow it never gets old. Skiing was technically the purpose of the holiday, but let’s be honest: it mostly served as an excuse to eat well, drink better, laugh a lot, and occasionally slide down a mountain.

The first half made us feel like we had weeks to go still

We wasted no time easing into things. First ski day, first party (Seppi’s), straight to the Cin Cin, straight to dinner. Truly the most classic way of doing a ski holiday: one run, one drink, one very confident “we’ll ski more tomorrow.”

Sunday surprised us. What started as a normal dinner turned into a full-blown party thanks to Willie, arguably the most iconic artist of the week.

Willie can’t really sing. Willie doesn’t speak English. Willie doesn’t know the lyrics to his own songs.

And yet… Willie gets everyone on their feet, hands in the air, screaming along like we’ve rehearsed for weeks. He opens and closes every “performance” with the same trumpet song, which, once heard, will haunt your brain forever. The evening was so good we immediately rebooked for Tuesday. Zero regrets.

Monday was a slightly slower day, but still a great DJ set at Seppi’s, this time featuring the parents. Proof that après-ski truly has no age limit, only a dress code consisting entirely of ski boots.

Tuesday meant returning to Jägerstüberl and dancing on tables to Willie as if it were a contractual obligation. We made friends with neighbouring tables, sang until our voices cracked, and accepted that this trip now officially had a soundtrack of Willie’s trumpet song.

Santa's best helper at Lufthansa

Willie on the tables with his trumpet

My kind of Christmas tree with champagne bottles

Final exam before hitting the slopes

The second half that went by too quickly

The weather wasn’t great on Wednesday, so we decided to hike up the mountain to our new favourite lunch spot.

Let me be clear: this was not a casual stroll. This was a full character-building exercise. I am apparently not as fit as I think I am, so consider this my official New Year’s resolution announcement: start working out again, because the amount of puffing was unacceptable for a 23-year-old grandma.

That evening was Christmas Eve at the hotel. I went all in: new dress, heels, festive spirit. During dinner, one of the mums organised a competitive game, which we obviously took very seriously. Sadly, the international bitches (me and the other son) did not win. Still processing that loss.

Back on the slopes the next day, although my swing had clearly left the chat. I skied less but made up for it with lunch in the sun, a glass of Miraval Rosé, and dancing at Seppi’s again.

A remix of “Ik leef niet meer voor jou” became the anthem of the day, a song so passionate, so dramatic, and frankly so full of hatred that it somehow worked perfectly as a ski-lift hype song.

Christmas was celebrated again that evening, because honestly… why not?

Friday was calm. We actually skied the most in the end, though nothing spectacular kilometre-wise, which is perfectly on brand for this trip. This holiday was less about performance and more about presence. Relaxing, laughing, drinking, eating… skiing was simply the title of the vacation.

I also started getting a cold, so I rested in the afternoon while part of the group went out partying. This resulted in a hilarious dinner where half the table was already tipsy and the other half was sober as… a freshly washed wine glass. Live music appeared from a neighbouring table, and “Baila baila baila” joined the growing mental playlist I will never escape.

Saturday was the best day. Sunshine, fewer people on the slopes, and finally the chance to ski fast and confidently, hyped up in the lifts by Willie’s trumpet song and our beloved remix. That routine will be missed more than I’d like to admit.

All the skis in front of Seppi's at sunset

Somewhere over the rainbow I am still making photos

Christmas fit

The stats (for credibility)

I’ll spare you the full athlete fantasy, but for the sake of evidence:

• a top speed that briefly made me feel invincible: 80km/h

• an average speed that proves consistency: 35 km/h

• a longest run that felt longer emotionally than physically: 5.5 km

• and a “most kilometres in one day” stat that confirms I did actually ski: 29.1 km

Final thoughts on the Gerlos Ski Trip

Ski holidays have never been my absolute favourite, yet they always end up more fun than expected. I love skiing, but I don’t need to do it all day. I love après-ski in ski boots during dinner, but not after showering and clubbing. I love Austrian food (Wiener Schnitzels and Kaiserschmarrn), but after one (or two) of each, I’m perfectly fulfilled.

Skiing will always be about the people for me: the group, the tear-filled laughter, the shared rituals. One day, I’d love to see this group grow, partners, maybe kids, little muppets learning to ski, but for now, this was probably my only ski holiday of the year. Let’s see if I’ll be found on the slopes again next winter.

Thank you, Gerlos, for a warm, chaotic, and very lovely Christmas week.

Maybe until next year 🤍

Spread the Luv,

Isabella