Chamonix!

Good morning from Chamonix! 

(look to the south, at Mt. Blanc, the bald mountain in the middle of the photo...)

(look to the east at the aptly named Aiguille du Midi -- needles.)

Breakfast is copious. Of course it is. Breakfast for athletes! Wait, am I an athlete?

I'll try to keep it to a light meal, honestly I will!

(Waiting for my oeuf a la coque (soft boiled), which I then ruin by dousing it with a packet of sugar. I thought it was salt!)

I hear Russian at a table. A family of skiers. Okay, so you dont have to live in Russia to speak Russian. You could be a family that left. But what if they are just plain Russian, on a ski holiday here? (My experience has been that on the slopes, Russians are a presence -- they come for the display of wealth if not necessarily skiing talent. A handful of years ago, I got knocked down on the slopes by a mighty Russian who was totally out of control.) I read that Russians can technically still vacation in EU countries, though it's tougher to get visas and the wait time is longer. They typically enter through third-party countries. I have to say, it catches me: how do you deal with eating in the same room as someone from a country you're at war with (because Russia has very much waged war against us all)? I am reminded of the countless movie scenes that I've watched of Germans in European dining rooms at the time of World War II. I always wondered -- how could you just sit there alongside SS men and eat normally? And I know this particular family -- a teenage boy, a mother, a father -- are a far cry from the SS during World War II, still, this was a new one for me. In the US, the war with Ukraine is remote. In Europe, it's a hell of a lot closer.

(Glancing at a book in the hotel "living room;" the Savoyard costume appears to me to be a rather somber affair. Must have to do with the severity of the Alpine climate, at least in the past.)

In the late morning, I meet up with Teresa. (You too can arrange a promenade avec Teresa if you are in Chamonix by going to her website here.) Today's plan? To drive up the valley to Vallorcine (some 20 mins  by car north and east of Chamonix). With stops along the way.

Vallorcine, population 404 (Chamonix: pop 9000), is the last village in the Mont Blanc valley. After that, you're stepping into Switzerland so beware! We are indeed just a stone's throw from both Switzerland and Italy. It's hard to imagine the confluence of these along with France unless you look at a map, but trust me -- they all meet here. In fact, looking out my window, I can see Mont Dolent -- the mountain where you have a tri-point of the three countries! It's the one to the left, with the jagged peak.)

If you speak French, you'll think -- ah, Vallorcine is the "valley of the bears." Sure, but they're history now. Wiped out. Chased down to the Pyrenees. The animal of note here is the chamois -- an Alpine beast that is somewhere between a goat and an antelope. They come down in winter for the forest vegetation and if you're lucky, and you know their paths around the mountains, you may spot one. 

But let's put aside the chamois for now. Vallorcine itself has something else to offer: authenticity. Until a gondola went up a dozen year ago, no one went there to ski. (And the gondola itself is tricky because you dont ski down to Vallorcine.  It's just a means of transportation to get you to the other side of the mountain. All this to say that Valldorcine is small, and it has character, rooted in its history rather than in the business of winter sport.  

Take the architecture: this is where you'll find raccards -- granaries that were constructed in the style of the Valais (a canton of Switzerland) and that cannot be found anywhere else in France. It's a reminder that this part of the valley was a mix of the French and of settlers coming in from the north and of course of the Savoyards. Officially, Vallorcine has been part of France since 1860. Before that? It's complicated! Just know that in this small handful of hamlets, Walser influence abounds.  [What's Walser? It's a designation that simply means we're dealing with something from the Wallis or Valais region, down to the influence on language, which will include Walser dialect -- an Alpine German that made its way here and into parts of Switzerland, Liechtenstein and tiny hamlets of Alpine Italy and Austria.]

What was it like to live there decades ago? It's a lesson in self sufficiency! On big snow years, there will be weeks when you cannot get to it from France, because the road leading here is under constant threat of avalanche. And take yourself back another few decades: Forget about GPS maps, cell towers, and same-day delivery. People really had to "live locally." Think foods high in calories and produced in your own back yard. Think cheese and potatoes. Buckwheat pasta if you're going all out. There is a fierce pride of place among the Vallorcinaises. They're not just part of the Valley of Mont Blanc. 

I've given you some background. Enough to look at the photos with some idea of what they are meant to convey. But now let me hang back a little and let the photos tell the rest of the story. And I say this despite the fact that Teresa flooded me with interesting tales about everything that I saw and everyone that I met. But, the day is only so long and the post will already be excessively long. So, just pictures, okay? Well, maybe a word or two, but no more!

1. Going to Vallorcine

We pause at the next town of the Mont Blanc Valley after Chamonix: Argentiere. Why? Because of the L'Al'pain (play on words here!) bakery. To supply ourselves. Fantastic breads, pizzas, sandwiches. 

And the world's best brioche.

Next hamlets: Montroc and Le Planet. Teresa shows me paths I can take here for later solo walks. Great views!

2. Hunting for the Chamois

She brings binoculars. I poo poo them. If the chamois are that distant, we may as well give up! Still, she parks the car at the col -- the mountain pass that you have to go over to get to Vallorcine. We hike alongside a mountain that she says is our best bet. Shoe cleats are essential in this kind of icy snow!

She pauses to scan the mountain all the time.

The reward! Tiny from afar, but so precious!

We continue. The views are sublime!

And trained now on how to look, I spot the next pair!

Can't improve on that! Time to head back to the car.

3. Vallorcine: the people and their hamlet

The quiet of a small village. Here, the sun is a rare cold weather treat. In the deep of winter, it's blocked by the mountains for most of the day.

A small way up a hill we come across madame, totally engaged in the act of dismembering a wall of very old wooden slats. She has lived in this hamlet all her life. She collects things and makes stuff out of all that she finds.Witches are her true love. She has goats and a husband (who is a carpenter) and their house is right next to one of the few remaining old granaries (remember? the raccards). All this you will see below.

(in every homestead there is a bench facing the western skies, for the sun)

(a natural barometer, for laughs and for real!)

(the raccard)

(her husband, reading a comic book, in the sun, because in every homestead there is a bench...)

(we pause for lunch)

(kids sledding)

(in every homestead...)

Avalanches are a fact of life here. You can't build at the base of the mountain, because you will be buried. Still, the church went up. Several hundred years ago. Why in this precarious spot? Because it's exactly the halfway point between two hamlets. A stone wall was constructed to steer the avalanche debris away from the church. It has saved the building more than once.

(Teresa's work, using my camera)

(One last look toward the mountains: you are seeing Mont Blanc in-between the closer two...)

4. Guy's place

The village has a bar/tabac/cafe/post, all rolled into one. Guy presides. It's where the locals go for their espresso, or wine, or hot chocolate spiked with Chartreuse (the green herbal liquor from Grenoble). It's where we can eat our brioche.

(Teresa takes out her camera...)

(and uses mine on me)

(and I use mine on her)

(Guy, and I assume his wife...)

And now it's time to go home.

I'd forgotten to take my phone for today's adventure, which means that I went for a whole six hours without knowing if the world was still turning!

(It was still turning.)

I catch up on news from back home and after Zooming with Ed, I head out to dinner.

I eat at La Caleche. Known for its Savoyard food. Remember? Cheese and potatoes! The ambiance, too is Savoyard.

One item on the menu really really tempted me -- the Bresse chicken (appropriately priced at a higher rate than you'd normally see for a chicken dish!). Unfortunately, they did a last minute menu change and brought in an exceptional local chicken. (Bresse, by the way, is just to the west of the French Alps.) I mean, talk about finely marbled and therefore tender and moist meat! Amazing! With a wild mushroom sauce. Bresse girls, you better watch out!

The day wont end until I finish writing for you. And yes, I'm spent! But honestly, in the very best of ways!