Last year, I wrote an open letter to all single ladies who moan that they can’t find hot single men to flirt with. And again, this year — despite my having explicitly told everyone what to do and exactly where to go — I still hear the same old thing, “Where should I go to find some cute boys?” Well, I said it once and I’ll say it again: Chile.
For those of us ladies who have tried the online meat markets and bars or been set up with Al Franken’s stand-in one too many times, I know — it can be frustrating. We have fantasies of going somewhere exotic and running into the man of our dreams. If you want this to happen, go south. Specifically, you need to go to the slopes of the Valle Nevado Ski Resort, where the man to lady ratio is 35:1 and unlike places with similar ratios like say, Alaska or Siberia, these men, hailing from all over the world, are smoking hot.
Sick of the man candy in your hometown? Get thee to the Chilean ski slopes. (Photo: Thinkstock)
I showed up at Valle Nevado last August with little to no expectations to learn to ski and I almost ended up in a neck brace from ogling.
[Pro Tip: you always have a better time when you keep expectations low — that way they are always met or exceeded]
I knew something was up when my friends and I checked into one of the three hotels on top of the mountain and we were the only women at the front desk in a sea of hot eligible men — many of whom had Olympic jackets on proclaiming their countries like “RUSSIA,” “BRAZIL,” “ITALY, “UKRAINE,” or “GEORGIA.”
“What the heck is going on here?” I asked a hotel employee.
“The Olympic teams come here to train every August and September,” the employee said.
And that’s when I knew it was gonna be a good week.
The thing about Valle Nevado is - it takes three hours to get up to the resort, which has three hotels, four restaurants, on club and a huge hot tub (we’ll get to that later) — so everybody stays on campus. See someone on the slopes? You will likely see them at an apres ski drink or at dinner.
Just a few of the boys on the slopes. (Photo: Instagram)
And during the day as I got dusted by four year olds on the bunny slope, I could take a break from plowing face first into the side of a mountain and utter humiliation by watching the Russian Olympic ski team do aerial flips on my right and the Brazilian Olympians finesse the mogul mounds on my left. It was my own private Olympics. And, because not many people know about the Chilean ski industry, I had the bunny slopes pretty much to myself. Except for the hordes of limber four year olds. (Seriously, do you know how embarrassing it is to be half way down the mountain only to learn young Pablo is on his third run?).
My private Olympics:
But the real fun started when the skis came off. Every evening, all the boys from the slopes would crowd into the largest hot tub I have ever seen (dubbed the Man Stew) while a DJ pumped tunes and a waitress served drinks.
The “Man Stew” in action:
At night everyone would hit the club where drinks were guzzled, 80s music was played and bad dancing abounded. I’m not sure you’ve lived until you’ve seen a gaggle of Austrians do the robot to the Black-Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” or been involved in a pan European Olympic mosh pit.
Three days later, I’d made it down the mountain without falling, Julie — who’d been tobogganed off the mountain after an accident — had been patched up by the Russian Olympic team’s doctor, and international relations were at an all-time high. Even though my liver was in revolt, I was sad to go … but I will go back. Because a girl can always use an ego boost and Manhalla.