Annecy

Riding back from town with a guy who works for the Auberge where I am staying and has spent his life in the hospitality industry, I get to listen a little to a local talk about... local stuff. I have a foot into his soul because he loves America. Not the big cities America, but, say, the Rockies ("where you live!" -- he says, displaying the conventional wisdom for Europeans that in America, there's the East Coast, there's California, and then there's everything else). Of course that would be his fave! He moved his family from Paris to Annecy because it was too stressful in  the big city. Here, his kids swim, boat, bike outside. Better quality of life -- he tells me.

You know, he smiles, we measure the health of the tourist industry in France by the number of Americans that come here. You are good visitors! You dont just go to the main sights, you travel to other parts of the country, you sample the cheeses, you understand our wines! (He was born in Bourgogne. He's going to like people who like wine.)

We talk about the weather because it's important to people who live here. The unusually long and hot summer. Indeed, the warm fall. It's not normal for it to be this warm, he says. And the winters! No snow, no cold nights -- this climate change is terrible for our planet. To move us to less distressing topics, I tell him how beautiful the lake is. He is full of pride. As if it was his own! 

In 1958, Annecy established laws that forbade any introduction of anything into the waters of the lake. Commercial or private. So it's fed just by the mountain streams. The cleanest lake in all of Europe! And no minerals either so we actually drink it with a simple filter. No need to take out calcium, like they have to do in Paris. Geneva -- their lake was pretty clean as well, but with warm weather, they are starting to get the algae. Oh, don't I know about algae! I don't tell him that back home, no one can stop people who live right by the lake from dumping chemicals on their lawns. Ed and I saw this while biking by Lake Waubesa. We both said simultaneously -- may as well just pour the stuff right into the lake...

Honestly, in all my life, I have never seen a lake as pristine as Lake Annecy. Never. If I ever come back here, it will be for the lake.

(morning walk)

Breakfast...

... and again I watch a couple bring their dog. Another small one, but this little guy is a floor dog.

What strikes me though is how full of laughter the old guy (with the yellow socks!) is. The dog's co-owner. Genuine laughter. You can't fake happiness -- in him, I see happiness.

Which of course makes me happy! Misery can be contagious. Thankfully, happiness can be contagious as well.

And at 9:30 my ride to Annecy is waiting for me. I ask him to drop me off downtown, by the shore. By the Pont des Amours (Bridge of Love). 

I start my walk here, by the misty lake, and the river, and this love bridge...

But I immediately turn into town. I chose this day for an Annecy visit because it's market day. Year-round. So, take a look at this lovely old city and then we'll go straight to the market, okay? It's a long stroll and a huge market, winding up and down the streets and across one of the bridges, so bear with me! You will see a lot of bridges!

[Market foods: beautiful tomatoes from Provence, so many cheese makers -- selling, of course, the beloved Tomme de Savoie among other great Alpine cheeses, and sausages, and strawberries! -- we in Wisconsin sell fabulous veggies, but why dont our markets ever have such delicious strawberries, even in the height of strawberry season? The ones here are from Lyon. Other fall fruits which I wish we could find in our markets: fall plums. And of course, no French market is complete without an olive vendor, a chicken rotisserie, and paella with seafood. Last but not least -- the porcini. Wow!]

(a few more bridges!)

I wont go out of my way to track down food places, but I've read enough about an Annecy pastry shop (Patisserie Rigollot)  to really want to see it. Award winning fruit tarts? That's so my thing!  It's supposed to be right by the market but even equipped with Google maps doesn't help me. I cannot find it. I have to ask some locals.

One of them walks me to it. No wonder I got lost in my search for it: the shop is hidden in the back of something that resembles an urban strip mall, only with most spaces shuttered. It's hidden in the back of a dark, awful building. And then you alight to this splendid shop. And the pastries are unbelievable! 

(cakes, too!)

I study them carefully, knowing full well that I will not leave Annecy without trying one of the pastries. But not yet. I have four hours in town before my ride back expects me to be by the lake again. Let's save the indulgence for the last hour.

Annecy is pretty, but it's not as if you're going to want to explore its cultural heritage at great length. There's a Savoyard museum, there's a castle further up. All good, but I'm not looking for every last tourist sight, in the same way that I'm not seeking out every best cheese, best sausage, best Savoyard whatever. I'm at an age where best is less important than the simple pleasure of unhurried walking in an interesting place.

So I walk. A lot! And when I need a destination, I look up a store that may solve a Paris problem for me: you see, just about the only thing I tend to buy when I travel to France (apart from the occasional piece of candy) is some interesting, reasonably priced clothing for the grandkids. Nothing extraordinary, just a nice change from their standard daily wear. And I got this idea that I could get all five outfits made from the same (plaid felt) fabric, only different stuff for all five. Shirts for boys, dresses for Chicago girls, and a skirt for the one girl who refuses dresses. And then, say on Thanksgiving weekend, they all put on their plaids and it will give me a chuckle. Only I could not find the right size of the last item in Paris. So, one person is out of luck! Unless... In Annecy...

This is my excuse for heading toward the shopping mall here. Me who hates malls. Me who hasn't been to one back home in maybe a dozen years. I find the mall.

(a mirror shot, to prove I was ... there!)

It's actually pretty enough if you like that sort of thing. With a concentration of stores you'd see in Paris, only spread out over lovely city streets there. But, stores are stores and they have the one I'm looking for and they have the size, so time well spent! And a few more blocks down, I enter the very famous department store, Galleria Lafayette -- insanely crowded in Paris, very empty and rather pleasant here.

And now it's time to take a circuitous route, via the stunning lake...

... back to the pastry store. How to decide which pastry! How to decide!!

I narrow it down to these three: the lemon, the apple and the raspberry chocolate one.

In the end, I stay with the fruit tart genre because, well, that's what drew me here in the first place. The apple tart it is:

And by the way, they have the pastry chef's cookbook on display and I look up some of the pastries and note that there are maybe two hundred steps involved with each preparation! Impressive and impossible! And yet, here we are, with row after row of perfect little pastries...

I'm back at the Auberge by 2:30 and this is the time for me to shed all warm clothing in favor of a t-shirt and pants that dont quite reach the ankle. It is sunny and warm! 

I sit down by the lake and order a fruit salad and a spritz, only they first bring the spritz with one of their savory cakes and of course, there is then one sparrow joining me in this snack...

... and then there are four more...

.. until the waitress takes the remains away. 

Since the Auberge brings some baked addition to every single thing you order here, I feel a bit sweetened out and so eventually I retire to my room, ditch the computer, the bag, ditch everything, and go for a little walk. I toyed with the idea of swimming, but that requires way more effort than I am willing to put in. So it's a walk. Sweet and short. My rings were closed a long time ago!

In the evening, I eat at the Marius Bar once again. Honestly, I should have tried harder. I should have left the premises, walked up the hill, maybe ordered a Savoyard dish of potatoes and cheese. That's what you do when you come to the French Alps. But, there's something very uncomplicated about staying put, taking the crayfish over homemade pasta dish off the menu...

... and retiring to my room. 

Tomorrow is my last full day here. I will try to make it fit the image I had when I first decided to come to the Auberge on the lake Annecy. 

Until then...