Can a ski vacation with four kids REALLY be fun for parents? Discover what’s possible at this luxury hotel in the pristine, family-friendly Austrian resort of Serfaus

The most memorable part had nothing to do with skiing.

This came while we were exploring the hotel’s spa and the kids went to the sauna.

There sits an obese Austrian reeking of his own sweat, his flanks glistening with his palms, his manhood hissing in its own juices on the wooden bench. I rushed the children into the salt therapy room and pretended not to hear their questions. (You: “Why was the man naked?” Me: “Look, isn’t it amazing what they can do with salt?”)

To this day, if you ask my children about the Austrian Alps, they describe a naked man in a sauna.

But of course there was more to the holiday than a penis burning on a wooden board. It was the Hotel Vaya St. Zeno in Serfaus, a mountain resort I chose for its “underground” that promised a sense of calm and peace. (At the time it seemed like an ingenious and quintessentially European way of reducing traffic congestion and pollution. Why couldn’t Britain learn from our sophisticated continental relatives? Then I realized that London had had an underground system since 1863.)

I say hotels. The Vaya is not a hotel, not really. It’s more like a honeycomb of self-catering apartments wrapped in luxury, with a decent restaurant and bar perched on the collarbone of a mountain. It’s a ski resort, which means everything is wooden and comfortably designed, a hospital for lunatics who think normal families can train like Olympic athletes for a week in the winter and call it fun.

But it’s fun, isn’t it? It’s the best.

So on the first day I tried to cheer the kids up as I braved travel fatigue by waking them up at seven and ordering them to change into their Olympic uniforms. Okay, so no Olympic gear. I doubt Charlie Guest or Billy Major buy their stuff from Decathlon. But you know what I mean. There is something military about it – that scene in war movies where the naive recruits enter the supply room and get their uniforms and gear before being rushed to the battlefield and slaughtered. ski pants; ski jackets; Gloves, two of each, matching, a challenge in itself; thick socks – yes honey they are hiking socks but I promise you there is no difference, just put them on – and glasses. The b ***** d glasses.

The problem is that all kids want to look like the Power Rangers. One wants to be blue, the other red, and my oldest daughter, who is 15, would like to dress in white. These are my glasses! No, they are mine! You said I could use them! They are too tight, I can’t wear them, they pierce my nose! You make me dizzy! They are designed for blizzards and it’s sunny, I’m literally blinded! Literally! He wore them last, now it’s my turn! But last year you literally agreed that it was mine! I don’t wear them! And so on.

Hotel Vaya St. Zeno in Serfaus has an “extensive” spa, says Jake

Jake describes the spa at the Vaya St. Zeno Hotel as a “rabbit hole.”

Oh, ski vacation with four kids. you know how it is We fought with dungarees and snoodies and those chunky dials on the back of helmets; we patiently handled the snowsuit assigned to one of the girls that pinched their nether regions (by pulling it off and stretching); We zipped the ski passes six times into the little sleeve pockets.

It all took place in the apartment, flavored with alpine wood, with a slate and steel kitchen and tin windows overlooking the mountains. Central heating was excellent and while those of us who had been dressed for a while waited for the final complications of the costumes to be sorted out, we sat in the snow in the distance sweating. Ants could already be seen on the slopes. Time passed.

Another delay was caused by the cheerful arrival of a hotel employee to deliver our lunches. On the right side. One in each backpack or should I take them all with me? It makes more sense if they’re all together, but what if there’s an avalanche and we fall apart? You would all starve and I would feast. They contain boiled eggs. They will be destroyed in the bags. The kids don’t eat them anyway. DO NOT EXCEPT YOUR NEEDS, we are literally about to go. Where is your other glove? No it doesn’t pinch. And so on.

The skiing when we finally started was excellent. Serfaus is a small, family-friendly seaside resort. Located at 1,429 meters above sea level in the Central Alps, it is off the beaten track and very unspoiled, with 213km of slopes, 68 lifts and plenty of wide blue and soft red runs. Also – did I mention? – has a subway, and draconian restrictions on cars mean it’s very quiet and peaceful and unspoiled.

Our ski instructors from Skischule Serfaus, Marcus Of Infinite Patience and Anna The Efficient, who had a crush on the youngest and called her “mouse”, were attentive, comfortable and full of good advice. Most valuable was the command to go into “vacation mode”; that is, to let go of the Olympic training feeling and remember it’s supposed to be fun. It made the whole experience much easier. If it was just human nature to take it, it would be good life advice in hindsight.

Skiing sometimes has something petty-bourgeois. You go overseas and spend your time sliding down the slopes, bubbling with culture and smiling at other foreigners. But once in a while it hits you in the face, and then it’s all worth it. On the last day of our vacation, when we were all hanging in the balance between skiing and a break, a drunken head appeared over the balcony. It was an Austrian from the neighboring apartment who invited us to a party.

“Everything is made of wood and comfortably designed,” says Jake about the hotel’s interior

The staff at Vaya St. Zeno is “observant and multi-lingual,” says Jake

The children needed sleep. We refused. Then came Europop. At 11pm, while the kids were all struggling to sleep, I saw red and walked around. The door was open, open house style, so I entered. The place was half lit. At least 50 people stood around drinking as music blared from a blindingly large speaker in the center of the table. Après ski my a**e.

I got the woman in charge and asked her to turn down the volume. Then I got out. To my surprise there was dead silence within two minutes. A little while later I hear the guests sneaking down the hall whispering. This isn’t Britain, I thought, where people turn the volume down half a turn and then turn it up again. On the last day we finally arrived in Austria.

So between loud parties and naked sauna men we have our fair share of cultural immersion. We had our share of delicious food at Vaya Restaurant, excellent service and many happy hours at the expansive rabbit hole-like spa with seating to warm your spine after a hard day’s skiing. And we certainly got our share of it.