Chamonix!

The Journey

A challenge for a traveler whose trips are necessarily short (I am needed at home! I miss my fam! I miss Ed!) is to do more than just tolerate the long travel time at each end. But how? I've tried it all: in earlier years I'd look forward to the free wine on board long haul flights. That made the first half of the journey fantastic, but the last half -- a drag. I've also given in to nonstop movie watching. You can do four movies each way and still take pauses for bathroom trips and looking out the window. But honestly, it's hard to find so many good movies, especially since Ed and I mine the better stuff for our at home watching. How about reading? Yes, absolutely. But I need to take breaks with that, so it can't be nonstop. Lately, staring into space, taking naps, doing light writing have kept me busy. And still, I think I ought to work more on a love for the journey itself, not just the final arrival. 

This trip is one where I challenge myself to break away from all that ties me up in knots inside and I promised myself I would start with savoring each moment. Including each flight, each layover, each new snack, each conversation with a passerby or a seat mate. (I am a quiet seat partner, but if someone wants to talk, I'll be okay with it. For a while.)

And so this is how my travels began: calmly, with a search for delight. Here are a few that I found:

On the flight to Atlanta, there was no turbulence and so the attendants served the usual beverages. I asked for tea. The Italians may down their espresso in one gulp, but the British know how to pace and savor their tea. I joined the club of these sage sippers and really concentrated on loving my paper cup of tea. And I finished my murder mystery. Two hours well spent!

At the Atlanta airport, I decided to do a little spot writing. I have more than two hours here. I put my carryon in front of me so that I could raise my legs up to a comfortable position and took out my laptop. I played around with ideas. Time always passes quickly when I try to write. 

Waiting in line to board the Air France flight to Paris, I noticed there were three separate passengers with wee dogs in those little stow-under-the-seat containers. The pups found each other and instantly made doggie friends. The passengers surrounding these animals were less generous. I heard mumbles about how wrong it is to travel with your dog. Wrong for whom? It's not as if they will bite you. I found them to be adorable and I tried to imagine why they were in fact going to Paris.

On the flight itself, I had in front of me a young family: parents and two little girls exactly Juniper and Primrose's age. The youngest one wiggled and complained for a good two hours. But, I was totally charmed by her. Her sister as well, though she was lost to the world with her earphones and her movies. The family was French and I wondered what they had been doing in the US. Disneyworld maybe? The mom wore a shirt with Disneyland Paris on it and the girls had Mickey Mouse backpacks, so maybe they liked amusement parks?  I played a clapping game with the tot. Honestly, the whole lot of them made my trip!

Too, I totally appreciated my seat by the window. 

I'd booked this flight in early September and had the whole plane open and all seats available. My goal was to eat, watch one movie and try very very very hard to nap. Classical music helps and the selections these days are fantastic. Did I sleep? I can't really tell. You know how that goes!

In Paris, at the airport -- well, now it becomes easy. It's breakfast time and there are croissants and pains au chocolat galore and, too, there are always interesting travelers to watch and listen to. 

And the flight to Geneva? Oh, if you cannot take pleasure in that short jaunt over half of France and the peaks of the western Alps, then you are hopeless!

In Geneva, all I had to do was find my ride to Chamonix. Easy peasy. And a little after the noon hour, I am at my hotel. [The driver, whose family came over to Chamonix from Tunisia, spent the hour telling me about his recent trip to Miami. The man loves to travel! I asked him if he's likely to stay in Chamonix and he said yes, he'd like to. To be close to his family, and to raise his own family here. It's a great place for it, with only one problem, and it's a big one: wealthy people are buying up housing and the locals are being priced out of home ownership. A familiar story the world over!]

Luck

It's funny how luck works: there are those whose lives are really tragic: luck evades them totally. But for most of us -- you win some, you lose some. Me, I hover between that and having more than my share. Sure, I may give a lucky break a slight push, but let's face it: I have had a wonderfully full life of adventure, and beloveds, and calmness, and a roof over my head, and food on the table. So, lots of good fortune. But with weather -- well, I've had my share of the pits. Snowstorms and cancelled flights. And remember the rains in Naples? 

So too, I moaned and groaned as I studied the weather in the Alps this winter. It's not that I need snow (though I would like it, because it's beautiful), but I kept seeing horrible predictions of clouds with wet snow showers thrown in for good measure. I wondered it I'd even see the mountains. I do want to see the mountains!

Imagine my total delight as the time approached for my trip here and I watched the forecast improve. My wistful hopes for maybe ONE good day, turned to hopes of two maybe three, until I stopped hoping because it seemed greedy and yet, here I am, with great weather predicted for the better part of my week-long stay here! Awesome luck!

An Alpine Town.

I'm staying at a lovely old hotel -- the Mont Blanc. (It's been here since 1849!) I mean, it's just perfect for me. I learned last year in Morzine that being centrally located is actually a good thing for a person like me who plans on darting in and out all day long. Just as long as it's quiet. The Mont Blanc is central and quiet.

And I coughed up the extra Euros for a room with a view. I can explain away such indulgence like you wouldn't believe! I tell myself I am saving tons by NOT skiing. No rentals, no lifts. Looking out at the mountains means a lot to me. My room, a corner one, does look out at the mountains, from two sides!

(the Mont Blanc peak is the one directly under the sun, half hiding behind two others)

If I did nothing else but stayed in my room, or better yet, on the balcony of my room for the whole week, I would be happy, just staring at these stunning peaks.

But I do plan to do stuff. Kind of different stuff. No skiing. No riding up the cable car to get close to Mont Blanc. No husky sled riding (though I was tempted!). Yes to walking. But not always alone.

Chamonix in the wintertime is an intimidating place to do good walks. Heck, Morzine was intimidating too! I needed help there (from a very earnest hotel person), and I need at least a tiny bit of help here. I found a person in Chamonix (Teresa) who does in fact offer herself up for walks, ones targeting your particular interests. So, for example -- no great elevations and icy trails for me. But yes, hidden remote interesting stuff I'd not easily find myself.

After unpacking, I do two very important things: I sit on my balcony and feel that deep winter sun on me and I think -- vitamin D never tasted so good!

Secondly, I take a stroll through town. My hotel is a Belle Epoque gem, with art deco stairs and an old world feel to it throughout...

(the "living room" downstairs)

But it's not the only building with those lovely wrought iron balconies. Chamonix definitely has a unique style.

It also has not a small number of people. It's much more cosmopolitan than Morzine where I heard French everywhere. Here, I'm occasionally picking up British English (my driver commented -- they never learn French. Some live here for months on end and all they can say is "one baguette still vous plait"). And I definitely heard both Russian and Polish.

I'm just a hop skip from the pedestrian zone and so I stroll along it, taking in the pulse of the town. To its benefit, there are numerous outdoor cafes, all packed with people taking in the sun.

(actually some dont bother with the cafe -- they get their sun elsewhere. I was that young once!)

(warm enough for ice cream)

There are trade offs, of course. More cafes, more people, more eateries, more choices. But all this makes Chamonix a sizable town. I know I'm in Savoie -- a mountainous department in the Auvergne-Rhone-Alpes region of France with its own cheeses and sausages, but you really have to step out of the town to get that vibe of a Savoyard lifestyle. 

In the evening, I meet up with Teresa over a drink (Negronis!!) to discuss my excursions for the week. She'll join me on at least two of them, but I do find her comments useful for my solo walks as well. No, not good in the winter. Too much shade. Too hard to get to. And so on. At the end of our hour together I have a pretty good idea what my week will look like. 

And on my first evening, I eat dinner at Matafan -- the hotel's restaurant. I probably would not have chosen one of the better restaurants for a first night when I am most tired, but my eating here was a little taken out of my hands: I'd asked the hotel about a month ago if I needed to plan meals in advance. Yes! They quickly told me that most of the solidly good restaurants book up quickly during the French school holidays and of course, February is one staggered French school holiday. I asked for recommendations and was given a list and an offer to arrange all choices according to my preferences (not too far a walk and good local food. Mostly casual. As I explained, solo travelers are always better off eating at lively casual places).

The hotel came up with a plan for my dinners. I'm going along with it. What the heck -- they know their food in the Savoie region of France. Fresh and honest was invented here! 

But of course, they did strongly recommend their own Matafan and I agreed. For tonight. And, not surprisingly, it was excellent. Local lentils, house smoked salmon and then a touch of the Italy that's just on the other side of a mountain -- gnocchi with a ragu that you might kill for if you were of that disposition. Oh, and a local pear for dessert which sounds very simple, but actually isn't because it came like this:

And now it's nighttime. I'm crossing my fingers that my newly discovered solution to the jet lagged poor sleep on the first night will work (3 mg Melatonin and here's the crucial part: get the time released capsules, because the problem is not with falling asleep on your first night in Europe but in staying asleep!).

Lights out, deep exhale. I am in the mountains they are visible, grand, exciting.