Méribel

Méribel, the unofficial British Embassy of the French Alps, where chalet girls outnumber raclette sets and everyone suddenly speaks impeccable Franglais (mostly “Bonjour,” “Merci,” and “Where’s the nearest bar?”). 

You’ll find French purists gracefully carving down Mont Vallon, Brits taking over the Altiport greens and insisting they’re definitely ready for a red, Russians cruising in from Courchevel with a casual shrug, and the odd Dutch boarder who just got lost en route to Val Thorens.

We love the endless 3 Valleys runs, raucous après-ski at Le Rond Point (a.k.a. “The Ronnie”), and chairlift chat so lively you might forget you’re dangling from a cable in sub-zero temperatures.

We're not so keen on the long lines at Saulire Express when everyone decides to catch “first lifts,” the unstoppable ESF kids who bomb past you at terrifying speeds, and discovering your budget barely covers a beer once you’ve ventured inside Folie Douce.

It's all part of the Méribel magic, just don’t forget to stash an extra baguette in your backpack, because “hangry” skiing is never a good look.