Ski-In/Ski-Out DREAM! Luxurious La Toussuire Apartment Awaits!
Ski-In/Ski-Out DREAM! Luxurious La Toussuire Apartment Awaits!: A Review From Someone Who Actually Stayed There (and Didn't Just Read the Brochure)
Alright, buckle up buttercups, because I'm about to tell you about the La Toussuire apartment – the one that’s SUPPOSED to be a ski-in/ski-out dream. And let me tell you, it's been an experience. Forget the glossy photos and the brochure’s promises. This is reality, people. And trust me, it’s got its quirks.
Let's Dive In, Shall We? (Or, How to Get to the Good Stuff)
First, the BIG sell: Accessibility. Now, I didn't need wheelchair access, but I did see the signs mentioning it. The elevator seemed… well, it existed. That’s a win-win if you need it. I'm not sure if it's truly accessible in the way someone who needs that would define it, but hey, it's a start, right?
Internet: Because, You Know, 2024.
Internet access is a huge deal, especially when you're "working remotely," which, let's be honest, meant frantically refreshing my email while simultaneously trying to avoid getting totally wiped out on the slopes. Free Wi-Fi in all rooms?! YES PLEASE. It worked, mostly. I'd say the Wi-Fi was…reliable enough to get Instagram stories up, but not reliable for video calls. I mean, sometimes, especially during peak hours, it felt like dial-up. Frustrating, but manageable. Internet [LAN]? My ancient laptop didn't even have a LAN port, so, yeah, no idea. Internet services: Standard offerings, nothing particularly groundbreaking.
Things to Do (and How to Burn Off That Fondue!)
Okay, let's get to the good stuff. They REALLY push the spa/sauna aspect. Now, I’m a sucker for a good steam room. So, I eagerly signed up for the Spa! Turns out, it was…fine. Kinda sterile, if I'm being honest. The pool with a view was the highlight. You know, sipping a cocktail in the heated pool, looking up at the snowy peaks…that was the dream. They had a real emphasis on swimming pool [outdoor] which was great. But gym/fitness, was a joke. It was the size of a broom closet with a treadmill and a dusty elliptical. Meh. The Sauna worked, but felt pretty generic. I never even tried the Body Scrub or Body Wrap. I'm too lazy, to be frank.
Cleanliness and Safety: Pandemic Edition
Okay, so the world is…what it is. Let’s get to what's at the top of everyone's mind: the germs. Well, here's where things were… okay. They were definitely trying. I saw evidence of Anti-viral cleaning products and Daily disinfection in common areas. They used Professional-grade sanitizing services which I assume meant someone with a spray bottle and a frown. There was Hand sanitizer everywhere, which is appreciated. And the Room sanitization opt-out available was a nice touch, because, you know, sometimes I want to trust the cleaning lady. The Safe dining setup they touted was just…tables spaced a bit further apart, which isn't exactly a huge leap these days.
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking: The Good, The Bad, and the Slightly Overpriced
So, the food. Oh, the food. The Breakfast [buffet] seemed like a good idea. But it was a bit… chaotic. The "buffet" was more like a tightly packed line, fighting for lukewarm scrambled eggs. The Coffee/tea in restaurant was fine, nothing to write home about. The A la carte in restaurant? That's where things got interesting. One night, I ordered the steak and – I swear to you – it was tougher than my ski boots after a week of hard skiing. However, the desserts? Chef's kiss. They absolutely nailed the desserts; especially the chocolate fondue. Happy hour? Yes, please! The Poolside bar was glorious, but the cocktails were…expensive. Seriously, I feel like it cost a part of my mortgage one night. Restaurants were definitely a highlight. It was like a classic alpine experience. They also had room service [24-hour]. Yes, I had the 24-hour room service. It was…a lifesaver on the night I failed at the a la carte steak.
Services and Conveniences: The Little Things That Make a Difference (and Annoy You)
Okay, here's the mixed bag:
- Concierge: Super helpful, until they weren't.
- Elevator: Worked, but sometimes felt like it was powered by hamsters.
- Daily housekeeping: Yes, THANK GOD! The maid, Marie, was a saint.
- Luggage storage: Useful, but a bit disorganized.
- Laundry service: Pricey, but necessary after a week of sweaty skiing.
- Gift/souvenir shop: Full of overpriced trinkets, as expected.
- Car Park [free of charge]: Nice touch, made me relax.
For the Kids: (Because, you know, someone's got to raise the next generation of skiers)
Didn't have kids with me, but I saw a few families. They had all the right buzzwords: Babysitting service. Family/child friendly facilities. Kids meal. My guess is you are fine.
Available in all rooms: The Nitty Gritty
- Air conditioning. Nope. It's the Alps. You don't need it.
- Alarm clock: Yes. Annoying but effective.
- Bathrobes: YES!
- Complimentary tea: That was nice.
- Desk, Extra long bed, Closet - Yes.
- Free bottled water: a tiny bottle, which was a bit cheap.
- Hair dryer: Basic, but it worked.
- Internet access – wireless: See above.
- Ironing facilities: I never ironed.
- Laptop workspace: on the desk, as mentioned.
- Mini bar: It had the usual overpriced snacks.
- Non-smoking: Thankfully.
- Private bathroom: Always a plus.
- Satellite/cable channels: Yeah, I mostly stuck to Netflix.
- Shower: Strong water pressure. Always a win.
- Slippers: YES!
- Wake-up service: Never used it, thanks to the alarm clock.
- Wi-Fi [free]: See above.
Getting Around: (Because, you know, you need to get to the slopes!)
- Car park [on-site] - A HUGE bonus
- Taxi service: I didn't use it, but I saw the signs.
My Final Verdict:
Would I go back? Yeah, probably. The location truly is ski-in/ski-out, which is worth its weight in gold (or, you know, the price of a week's stay). The views are spectacular. The pool is delightful. But you gotta go in knowing it's not perfect. Prepare yourself for some minor annoyances, embrace the quirks, and focus on the skiing. And for the love of all that is holy, order the fondue. It’s worth it.
Escape to Austrian Paradise: Your Dream Country House Awaits in Kotschach-Mauthen!
Alright, buckle up, buttercups, because this ain't your grandma's perfectly-boxed-up travel itinerary. This is… my attempt at conquering the French Alps. Specifically, a Nice apartment in Les Sybelles. Let’s see how this train wreck unfolds.
Day 1: Arrival & the "Oh Dear God, I Forgot My…Things!"
- Morning (6:00 AM - 9:00 AM): Wake up in a flurry of panicked packing. Realized simultaneously I was too ambitious with the "travel light" thing and that I'd probably forgotten something vital. (Spoiler alert: I did. More on that later.) The airport coffee tasted like sadness, but the baguette I grabbed for the flight was divine, even if it did make me look like a giant, crumb-covered bird.
- Mid-day (9:00 AM - 1:00 PM): The flight! Survived it. That's a win in my book. The in-flight entertainment system was broken, which was a real test of my sanity. Landed in Lyon, a city I’ve only seen through a rain-streaked airplane window. The train ride to Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne passed in a blur of snoozing and staring out the window, marveling at the sheer scale of the mountains. It's breathtaking, even through a slightly blurry, sleep-deprived haze.
- Afternoon (1:00 PM - 4:00 PM): Arrived at Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne. Hopped on the bus (the "ski bus" they called it, which felt misleading since I had to lug all my luggage on board). The driver was a delightful, chain-smoking gnome who clearly considered me a hindrance but helped me with my bags anyway. Bless his heart.
- Late Afternoon (4:00 PM - 7:00 PM): The Apartment! Found the Nice apartment in La Toussuire. It looked… well, it looked exactly like the pictures, which is ALWAYS a relief. Took the elevator up and the panoramic view was so amazing, so surreal. Unpacked, which involved a moment of near-hysterics when I realized I'd left my damn ski socks at home. (Cue dramatic music. This is a travesty. My feet will freeze!) But the view, man, the view. Makes up for almost everything, especially the fact I found out the dishwasher seems to be broken.
- Evening (7:00 PM onward): Dinner at some local spot, I could barely understand the menu, so I pointed at something that looked vaguely like meat and hoped for the best. It was… interesting. Very cheesy, very filling. And the wine! Oh, the wine! It was cheap and delicious and quickly erased the memory of the ski sock incident. Now, I'm curled up on the sofa, a little drunk, a little overwhelmed, a LOT hopeful for the next few days.
Day 2: The Skiing Attempt & The Great Snowboard Showdown
- Morning (8:00 AM - 12:00 PM): The "ski lessons" began. Let's just say, skiing is HARDER than it looks. I spent a good portion of the time on my backside, questioning all my life choices. My instructor, whose name I'm pretty sure was "Pierre-who-judges-your-every-move," just looked at me with that particular French mix of polite indifference and barely-concealed amusement. Meanwhile, the mountain laughed at me. Seriously, I swear the snow was mocking my pathetic attempts at grace. There were some small children that looked like they should be in car seats, whizzing past me like fluffy little missiles.
- Mid-day (12:00 PM - 2:00 PM): Lunch! Found a charming mountain hut with a fireplace crackling away. The food! A simple raclette and a glass of vin chaud. I could barely move, but oh, the comfort!
- Afternoon (2:00 PM - 5:00 PM): The Great Snowboard Showdown! I have a friend who is a snowboarder. He thinks skiing is for old farts. So, feeling a bit competitive, I decided to give snowboarding a go. This was, without a doubt, one of the worst decisions of my life. I fell. A LOT. I took out at least three strategically-placed snowbanks. The only thing I managed to successfully conquer was my own ego. My friend, of course, was supremely delighted. I'm pretty sure he was secretly filming my failures.
- Evening (5:00 PM onward): Gave up on the snowboard and went back to the apartment, where I then had the most awesome hot soothing bath with a glass of wine. Slept like a baby.
Day 3: The View, the Village & the Vin!
- Morning (9:00 AM - 12:00 PM): Took the gondola up to a higher peak. HOLY COW! The view was just… obscene. Mountains as far as the eye could see, peaks like jagged teeth tearing at the sky. The air was so crisp, so pure. It almost made me forget the bruises. Almost.
- Mid-day (12:00 PM - 2:00 PM): Wandered around the village of La Toussuire. Found a little bakery with the most incredible croissants. Seriously. Heaven in flaky, buttery form. Also, bought an emergency pair of ski socks. Problem solved!
- Afternoon (2:00 PM - 5:00 PM): More skiing, managed to not fall too much. I'm finally getting the hang of it. Though I suspect it's a temporary victory. Enjoyed the slopes in the afternoon light!
- Evening (5:00 PM onward): More vin, more French charm. I think I’m actually starting to understand the locals. Met some other skiers and started to enjoy the evening and chat with them. Delicious pizza.
Day 4: Departure & Reflections
- Morning (8:00 AM - 10:00 AM): Sad packing and goodbyes. I'm actually going to miss this place. Even the terrifying ski school.
- Mid-Day (10:00 AM - 3:00 PM): Travel back to Lyon, then the flight.
- Afternoon/Evening (3:00 PM onward): Back home. Sore muscles. Ski socks (finally). And the wonderful, lingering memory of the mountains. And I'd already started thinking about my next trip! This time: I promised to myself: better planning, more ski practice (definitely), and a whole suitcase full of ski socks.
So there you have it. My messy, imperfect, and utterly wonderful trip to Les Sybelles. Not a perfect itinerary, but definitely a perfect experience. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to lie down and dream of mountains… and maybe a whole lot of cheese. À bientôt!
Weris Durbuy Dream Home: Your Luxurious Belgian Getaway Awaits!
Ski-In/Ski-Out DREAM! Luxurious La Toussuire Apartment Awaits! (Uhhh...Probably) - The REALLY Real FAQs
Okay, seriously, is this *really* ski-in/ski-out? Because my last "ski-in/ski-out" involved a treacherous 15-minute hike in ski boots uphill. And a near-death experience.
Alright, alright, I get it. The ski-in/ski-out promise is a siren song, leading many a weary skier astray. Look, I *believe* it's legit. The listing does state it, and the pictures *seem* to show the slopes right there. But I'm also the guy who believed my GPS when it told me to drive *through* a lake once. So, *caveat emptor*. Seriously, check the latest snow report. And maybe ask for a video of someone actually *skiing* from the door. I'm picturing myself, stumbling out after a few *after-ski* drinks, and not being able to find the damn run, and ending up on the wrong side of the mountain. That’s just, like, a whole *thing* you know?
"Luxurious" - what does that even mean? Like, is there an avocado slicer? Heated toilet seat? Because important things need to be considered here.
"Luxurious" is a slippery slope. For some, it's a fluffy bathrobe. For others, it's a private helicopter. My definition? Anything that keeps me from having to wrestle with a leaky faucet at 7 AM when I'm already hungover after a night trying to get a good deal on après-ski shots. The listing *mentions* a fireplace. That's promising. A *really* nice, crackling fireplace is a MAJOR luxury, let’s be honest. But the lack of details? Alarm bells. I'm imagining a slightly sad, electric fireplace that’s probably been turned off for years because the bill was too high. I'd need to know about the *details*. Does it have a Nespresso machine? (Essential. And I mean, *real* espresso, not that watery, pod-of-tears stuff.) And *most* importantly, is there a decent wine fridge? Because a luxurious ski trip without a perfectly chilled bottle of something is… well, it's just a regular ski trip, and those are *hard work*.
What about the size? The listing just says "apartment." Is this a studio, a shoebox, or something I can actually breathe in? I get claustrophobic.
The dreaded lack of square footage. It's like a dating profile that just says "Likes walks." Okay, but what *kind* of walks? Are we talking a casual stroll on the beach, or a forced march up a muddy mountain? The "apartment" thing is… ambiguous. I'm immediately picturing a tiny, cramped space where you can practically touch the walls when you stretch. Imagine trying to navigate that with ski boots and three layers of clothing. Nightmare fuel, right there. You *need* space to store all your gear. All that clunky stuff. I've been in apartments before where you basically had to *sleep* in your ski jacket just to have room to move. And I'm a fidgety sleeper! Ask for, *demand*, the exact measurements. Because no one wants to spend their vacation feeling like they’re living in a ski-boot-shaped coffin. The other option? A place is *too big* and you get lost *in* the apartment. I had that in Switzerland. Felt like I was living in a hotel. Not the same.
What kind of views do you get? I'm going to be honest, I'm all about the view.
Oh god. The view. This is something I obsess over. Let's hope it isn't "the parking lot of the kebab shop" view. I need to have a view. A view that makes you just *stop* for a minute, and, well, breath. The best views are the ones that just make you feel a sense of joy, to be grateful, you know? So, I hope the view is of, like, the Matterhorn in all its glory. Or at least some snow-capped peaks and maybe a few pine trees. If it's just the slope... fine. But if that slope has the parking lot on the other side? Then it's going to be a no from me. It's all about the *vibe*. What is the vibe? This is incredibly important.
Okay, but what if something goes *wrong*? Is there a concierge? A landlord who actually *answers* their phone? I'm not exactly handy.
Ah, the million-dollar question! The *support* system. Because, let's face it, things *will* go wrong. The toilet will clog. The Wi-Fi will die. You'll somehow manage to lock yourself out on the balcony in sub-zero temperatures wearing nothing but a dressing gown (that's a true story, by the way. Don't ask). A good concierge, or even just a responsive landlord, is GOLD. They're the unsung heroes of any vacation rental. But... the listing says *nothing* about this. Uh oh. My gut is doing a nervous dance. You need to grill the host. Ask about maintenance. Ask about emergency contact information. Find out if there's someone who can, you know, *rescue* you from the balcony of doom. Because, trust me, you *will* eventually need rescuing. And it's far easier if they know how to speak French. Or English, I guess...
Finally, and I'm being very serious, what's the deal with the internet? I *need* Wi-Fi. For work, for… research, for… um, keeping in touch.
Look, in the modern era, Wi-Fi is not *optional*. It's as essential as oxygen. It's the lifeline. I need Wi-Fi to check the weather, to look up restaurant reviews, to check my bank balance after a particularly exuberant après-ski session… and, yes, to *occasionally* pretend to work. So what kind of internet are we talking about here? Is it ancient dial-up? (Shudders.) Or is it a proper, high-speed connection that can handle streaming, video calls, and all the other demands of a modern digital existence? Because if I'm getting a slow connection, I will lose my mind. And then I will be no fun at all. That connection is the *key*.
Okay, so, all this sounds risky. I’m in. How do I actually book this *thing*?
Well. You’re braver than I am. Assuming all the boxes (the important ones, anyway) are ticked, then you have to… *book*. Which is when the real fun (and potential stress) begins! Check the cancellation policy *carefully*. Read the fine print.Infinity Inns
