Chamonix!

Old habits are hard to shake. Staying up past midnight -- such a typical thing for me when I travel. Too little time. How can you have a meditative day and still do all that you want to do? My life's project -- a search for balance!

I come down to breakfast and again habits kick in. I liked my meal yesterday! Let's repeat it! This time, ask for the salt.

Once more I am seated not too far from the two Russian tables (see above). I try to ignore, to not mind. The boy is twelve, maybe thirteen. Playing with his i-Phone. The two men, one his father, the other maybe a friend, a brother, a cousin. Both grumpy. I have to say, no one in the room is aware of their presence except for me. A solo traveler always notices her surroundings, the people across the aisle, in the cafe, on a walk. So I notice.

Later, I ask at the front desk if they have Russian guests this year. I get it that it's a loaded question. Still, I was pointing to no one in particular. I remember asking in Naples -- where is that group from? -- pointing to a newly arrived contingency. They answered readily -- China. I was interested if the Chinese, isolated for so long, were resuming travel. Obviously they were. Here, they dodged the question. "We have guests from all over the world." I understand their nervousness, still, I think they should have answered. Though perhaps in their refusal to answer they told me all I need to know.

This morning, my first goal is to visit the weekly market. It's just above freezing today in the Chamonix valley. I have to wonder how they do this when there is snow. Do the vendors really stand outside all morning long? Teresa warned me that it's better once the sun hits the square at around 11, so I go close to that hour.

(on the walk over, I took these two snapshots to give you more images of Chamonix itself)

I have been to so many outdoor markets in this country! So many! But this is my first winter market in the mountains. It seems so unreal: winter, mountains, outdoor stalls year-round?

On one side of the street you have the foods. Plenty of French families, picking up their favorites. Cheeses, sausages, potatoes. And so much more...

On the other side of the street: everything else. I actually buy something -- dish towels! We have such awful, raunchy dish towels. I pick up three, from her:

Wonderful market! Truly a good way to get to the heart of an Alpine town.

And then I am ready to head out for my day's big adventure. Teresa joins me, this time not as a guide, but because she herself wants to do that walk. I'm her companion. (Having said that, I really don't think Teresa is capable of not helping me do things well here. Not only does she drive us to the starting point, but she makes sure to call ahead to my chosen end point to confirm that it is open and that they will welcome us. To say that she is helpful is an understatement.)

We drive the few minutes to Le Lavancher. (Again, a play on words: sounds like avalanche, doesn't it? Well it might!) I suppose you might see this as a hamlet. A cluster of homes, of chalets. I haven't really photographed what is the dominant housing style here, in the valley. I suppose because it is so ubiquitous in all Alpine valleys. Maybe I'll focus on pointing out some such houses tomorrow. Today, let's get on with the hike!

I had chosen this particular hike because it has some incline and I am, after all, in the mountains. Nothing too onerous, but in this warm sunlight during the day and freezing temps at night, there is a lot of slippery stuff on the trail! Never have shoe cleats been more useful! Those spikes are awesome on the trail!

Equally awesome is the forest: tall firs, a  pine needle carpet, sometimes under a snow cover, sometimes, when the sun has access, the snow will have completely melted away. Only to reappear again up higher.

(if I'm in any photo today, it will have been taken with my camera, but by Teresa)

Teresa tells me stories from Chamonix -- about the granite used here in construction, about crystals (you must visit the crystal museum!), about previous hikes up this trail she had taken. It's her back yard after all, much the same way that our county park is our playground back home. Ed and I know every tree there. She knows every rock here, I'm sure.

One reason to do this particular climb is that it ends (if you want it to end) at Buvette du Chapeau. This refuge used to provide simple warm drinks and perhaps a quick bite as you labored up the incline. These days, with its new large deck, it has gone the extra mile and created (for a few lucky souls) a place to eat simple, good food...

... with a fabulous view to please your demands for visual gratification. Onto the Mer de Glace glacier (more on that another day)...

And down to Chamonix valley itself, surrounded by the peaks that are becoming awfully familiar but not ever less dramatic.

For lunch, I order the Croute du Chapeau...

... and it is wonderful! Cheese, melted with wine, in the style of a raclette, on a slab of bread, with generous portions of chanterelle mushrooms, which for once taste as I remember them from my childhood mushroom picking days in Poland.

We drink water that comes in from a mountain spring (used also to cool the beverages people buy).

I peak inside the hut, which has a kitchen and a small room where guests huddle at two tables in bad weather. Today, the tables are used to hold the homemade desserts. It's a warm and lovely space. The kind your grandma, or at least my grandma would have had in her country home.

And then we eat their justifiably well loved desserts. My tart (though raspberry, not blueberry!) is nothing short of sublime.

We have to hurry back down, because I have an appointment at my hotel. I have to say, we really do race down that hill! Only the French could outdo us! And my knee cooperated! Miracles do happen.

I am a few minutes late for my first ever in my life facial massage. Oh, back in Poland, I've had facial treatments. Every woman in Warsaw has considered or regularly scheduled facial treatments. But this is different and I am insanely curious what someone can possibly do to a face that would warrant any excitement. I want to try it, at the same time that I have great doubts: body massages make you feel better. Many people have them for medicinal purposes. Sort of like going to PT, only you don't have to do any exercises yourself. But facial massages -- aren't they for the sole purpose of improving appearance? Why would a nearly 70 year old, living alongside Ed no less, care about radiance in her face?

Still, I'm here, it's on the menu of hotel offerings and I want to try it.

And it is heaven on earth! Turns out it's not just about radiance and firmness and all those other inspiring yet irrelevant features. It's about a neck massage and adjustment. And those overworked tired hands -- they're included too in the rub down! I come out feeling like someone pulled the drain on any tension I may have brought with me to Chamonix. Absolute heaven.

In the evening I eat at Josephine. I suppose it's a curious choice as they specialize in seafood, but then, when you are in one spot for a whole week, you'll do well to diversify your eating choices. You can't just put away pounds of cheese, butter and sausage. (Okay, those have not been my staples, in part because I am a party of one. Most raclette, fondue, and other cheesy dishes are sold when there are at least two at the table.) The hotel suggested Josephine, booked it for me --  so I'm off.

It is a crazy place. I do like the image of Josephine. Here she is! And the restaurant itself? On the one hand, it is everything you expect a French brasserie to be: crowded, with a superbly efficient waitstaff. Traditional French foods, expertly prepared, if not always imaginatively presented. But on the other hand, this place is noisy! You know that peace that had seeped into my soul right through my face earlier today? Shattered by a million decibels of rowdiness. Plenty of kids, but they weren't the problem. It's the twenty something crowd and the groups of apre-skiers. Had I gone here with someone, I would not have heard a word that person said. If you cant shout, then you're out of luck.

The food? To repeat: expertly prepared. Pumpkin veloute with a few mushrooms, scallops -- my nod to the seafood here -- well seared, not overcooked, with a few winter veggies at the side. My dessert was a highlight though. The menu said: mushrooms with blueberries. Being a sucker for both I tried to imagine what a chef might do with those two mismatched foods. The waiter assured me it was fantastic.

And it was! Even better than it looked!

The fun here is evident: a mushroom, stuffed with blueberries indeed! But, too, the delicate mousse that holds the "blueberry filled fungus" together is actually very tasty! A rare combination of quirky prettiness and good flavor.

Looking out my balcony window now at the night outside I am once again reminded of how stunning this landscape can be, even if I can't fully see the contours of the ridges that surround us. You feel their presence! Like an ocean that threatens and soothes, depending on its mood, a mountain range can give you thrills, or that needed place to finally grow small with your trivial thoughts and worries and grow big with your love for all that's good in this world! All this and a beautiful, clear night. And a moon that shines somewhere in those skies above us tonight