For me I think the winter of 2007-08 will always remain synonymous with huge portions of vindaloo, an awesome amount of snow and a whole lot of terrible French - editor Anna Tuson reflects.

For me I think the winter of 2007-08 will always remain synonymous with huge portions of vindaloo, an awesome amount of snow and a whole lot of terrible French.

Now, as I farewell the little ski village that has been my home for the past three months I'm reflecting on all the good and the not-quite-so-good memories of my time here.

- View from my Anzere apartment

I came to Wallis to work for the ski season, and to tumble all over the mountains on my snowboard. It was by no means a well-thought-out plan, which also meant I had no expectations or pre-conceived ideas of what was in store.

And while I certainly did a lot of work, and a lot of tumbling down mountains, I found it was the little things that really made the experience rich.

Finding work as a cook in an Indian restaurant and a second job as a waitress in another cafe was random luck, and I was fortunate enough not only to be able to fund a season of boarding, but to get to know the locals, learn an exotic menu, and even pick up a bit of French.

I met such a range of people who coloured my days – these are just a few of my favourites:

The local wine 'specialists' who would unflinchingly down several bottles of a lunchtime, found it hilarious to say things to me in French I couldn't understand, and when I told them 'Je comprend par', laughed even more riotously and told me 'c'est mieux' (it's better).

My landlord, who was completely in love with New Zealand, only ever referred to me as 'Kiwi' and told me all about the history of Maori chiefs I had never heard of.

My Pakistani workmates, who simultaneously tried to convert me to Islam and teach me Udo as they taught me to roll naan bread, fry pakora, and cook vindaloo.

The Portugues ski lift operators who came to my restaurant for their morning espresso - one a shy type with the sweetest sleepiest smile ever, and his not-quite-so-shy  colleague, who told me every day without fail how beautiful I was, even when my hair was unkempt and my eyes bloodshot and still half-shut due to a 5am wake up.

My beer-drinking buddy, a sweet 22-year old girl hailing from a nearby village, who, unsure of her next move after university, took a job as a waitress in Anzere, and spent the whole time compaining bitterly about the locals, the night clubs, the music, the 70s decor... For a while she shared with me her dark humour, she made me cute clothes, and introduced me to music with the most atrocious lyrics I've ever heard, until she was made redundant (I have never seen anyone so happy to lose a job!) and skipped town. 

And the Canadian snowboard instructor with the most irrestible cliché jockish good looks and 'I'm all about the snow'-attitude, who would give me the eye and get a little flirty after a few apres-ski rounds...

- Canadian snowboard instructors enjoying apres-ski drinkies

Ah yes, I shall certainly miss it!

And there surely is nothing like living in such a far-flung place, completely alone with a new language to really help a person to get to know herself.

I realised the strengths and weakness of my own personality as I went through a multitude of contrasting feelings and experiences.

I learnt the kindness of strangers and sometimes felt wonderfully welcome in this new place, while there were also times when I was completely on the outer, and thought I would never make friends.

I was occasionally the focus of small-town gossip, but in a way it was nice to be considered so interesting!

I was awed by the incredible beauty of the area, and felt relaxed and peaceful living so close to nature, but still missed the life and culture of the city.

I was embarrased and frustrated by my weak attempts at French but I also had the most fantastic, hilarious, ridiculous conversations.

I loved the solitude, and I was more lonely than ever before.

But now I have one last contrast of feelings when I think back on my Anzere experience – while I would not do it the same way again, I am so glad that I did it.

- View from my workplace