Vacation In the Alps—Does It GET Any Better?

After a bit of a break, LadyM's French Adventure column is back—and it's about to make you SO jealous.—Sparkitors

Ah, vacation. How I adore thee. Although I don't have any major qualms with French school, now that I've entered the final stretch of the exchange, my science and math classes are becoming increasingly boring, and I am increasingly less willing to do the work. So I feel very fortunate that the French get a 2-week vacation for Easter.

I like French Easter. It is very much like Canadian Easter, but with better chocolate. The Easter Bunny appears to favour European nations (this led to a discussion of international gift-givers. Santa Clause = Père Noel and the Tooth Fairy is a mouse), and my Swiss friends say that their chocolate is better yet. As much as I love Mini-Eggs, if you can buy it at Wal-Mart, it doesn't compare to the treats you get here. They have these big, hollow eggs that you open (DON'T BREAK IT!), and they are full of chocolates and assorted candies. Nom. Easter dinner itself was slightly less palatable—we ate 2 of my least favourite foods, asparagus and lamb. But I smothered the asparagus in delicious crème sauce and the lamb hardly tasted like lamb. So all was right. Some funny miscommunications occurred in conversation. Canadians have a very confused way of measuring things. We shamelessly combine kilometres and feet. My family uses Celsius to measure air temperature and Fahrenheit to measure water.  My French family has only ever discussed the weather with me, so they knew that I used Celsius... and were more than a little shocked when I told them that my hot tub was 106 degrees.

I started the vacation feeling very cultured. We went to a classical piano concert. I marvelled at the page turners more than the piano players. It must be stressful. They must get a lot of paper cuts. I wonder why they aren't playing themselves. I felt less cultured when we had our movie marathon. Asterix and Obelix are two bumbling Vikings who are fixtures in the French canon. They're mildly amusing as they travel through a historically inaccurate version of the ancient world, but not what I would call high culture.

The next day, it would be time to leave for the mountains. Fossette's excellent boyfriend is lending us his home in Alpes D'Huez (if this is familiar, it's a major ski destination and a stop in the Tour de France). I was super excited, but a little concerned. Why? No internet. I'm attached to my screen. You sever that connection, and I die. And even with the internet, I've been a out of the loop with Canadian happenings. Example: I go and creep my friend's Facebook page, and I see pictures of my sister, The Brat. She is showing a pony that I know and love, but that she should have not have been riding. I inquire... and it turns out that my parents bought another pony. They bought a pony... and nobody bothered to tell me! But I digress. Before leaving, I tried to have an internet conversation with The Brat, which is immensely frustrating. After displaying a horrifying taste in movies (The Roommate and The House Bunny, anyone?) she took half an hour to reply to each query. I gave up and went to bed.

It's a good 10-hour car ride between Alençon and Alpes D'Huez. Fossette has the insta-knockout skills of a narcoleptic. She sits down and BAM. She's a asleep for the duration of the trip. My apparent differentiation from Fossette/Snorlax was a cause of concern for Flux. She didn't want me getting bored. But no such worries were necessary. I love car rides, and my brain does weird stuff, so I have an almost infinite attention span. Boredom does not come easily. I enjoyed 10 hours of French scenery and jammed to 10 hours of French music. And also Glee. Although at that point, patterns in the radio music became evident. The same songs play on a loop. If you want to know the order, just ask.

Despite some mountain roads of questionable safety, we arrived in one piece. The Alps are breathtaking. When I'm rich, I'm going to buy a house in the mountains. Scratch that—I'm going to buy a MOUNTAIN. The Ski Season closed last weekend, so instead of showing off my skiing skills (this is not sarcastic; I'm Canadian. I got this one) we'll be exploring. Fine by me!

It's astonishing how sitting doing nothing in a car can be so exhausting, but it is. We decided to have an early dinner (read: before 9:00) and then tuck in for the night. Dinner was fondue, which is a delightfully French experience. I am no great cheese eater, but it was delicious. They make bets on their fondue: if you drop your bread in the cheese, you have to perform a variety of unpleasant tasks. I turned out to be a very skilled fondue eater, and did not drop my bread. (This is a lie. I dropped it once. Nobody saw. I'm not that honest). We arrived back at the chalet and, after the extremely unpleasant discovery that the hot water heater was not on, I collapsed into bed.

I felt great the next morning. Attribute it to the mountain air, if you want. I'm more inclined to blame the lack of internet.  Not being able to chat with friends in different time zones means that you can sleep at 10:30 instead of 2:00. I styled my hair into pigtail braids in honour of Heidi, and prepared to explore the Alps. It was a gorgeous day—sunny and warm. We walked all over, first throughout the village in search of some bread (mission unsuccessful) and then across the mountain, at about 2000 meters, and explored 3 very pretty and very cold glacial lakes. The snowcapped peaks and the green valleys were breathtaking.  As were the mountain flowers. I saw Edelweiss (Edelweisses? Edelwi?), and as a result have had a certain Broadway standard running through my head all day.

I'm a very cautious (read: clumsy and terrified of falling of a mountain) person, so we took it slow and survived. I stumbled many times (as I tend to do, even on the flattest of sidewalks) but didn't never actually fell down. Which was nice, because it was the kind of hiking where if you fall once, you won't be falling again, if you know what I mean. We ate a picnic lunch and cooled our drinks in a pristine mountain stream.

With the thin mountain air, and my tendency toward bronchospasms after rigorous exercise, the hiking was hard... but, honestly, the view was worth it. It was also worth the sunburn, which I'm strongly hoping will dissipate overnight. As will my braid hair-frizz, because my super straight locks couldn't hold waves overnight with a bottle of hairspray, let alone without.

After the hiking, we went to the community pool. It's outdoor and open all year, so it's extremely heated so that it's swimmable, even in the snow. Flux and Fossette sat on the deck THE ENTIRE TIME. Now, I grew up with a pool in my house and am thus extremely comfortable in the water... but seriously, why go to a pool if you're not going to swim? Especially when the water is a much more agreeable temperature (Fahrenheit) than the air (Celsius). One of the rules at the pool prohibited swim trunks, which basically translates to a lot of Speedos. I have conflicted feelings about that one.

We supped in a 5-star restaurant (shrimp risotto and caramel-apple filo pastries) and have plans to do the same tomorrow.

I could get used to mountain life.

Music:

Let me know… if somebody wrote you this song, would you be insulted? Léa by Louise Attaque

I don't usually spend much time on rap, but everything that Manau does is inspired by Celtic music. It's really awesome. La Tribu de Dana by Manau

UH, we could get used to the mountain life too. Heated pools and 5-star restaurants? Sign us UP.

Related post: My French Adventure