Chamonix

Some mysteries in life are never solved for you. I will never know why I finally got a good night's rest last night (as opposed to the night before and the night before and the night before...). On the other hand, this morning, I did read in a magazine about the Mer de Glace glacier and why we could not descend in a small gondola to the steps that would lead into the mouth of the glacier yesterday. Turns out they are dismantling the current gondola and building a new one that takes you to a new viewing platform, without the necessity of walking down six or seven hundred steps to get up close and personal to the glacier. I read that it will be better for the environment, though I'm not exactly sure how that works, but I do know that the national parks here (and elsewhere) maintain a high standard of care and so I have to assume that this will be a saner solution, rather than adding steps each year because of the melting of the glacier. At some point you have to worry about having people go down 1000 steps, because, well, they then have to turn around and climb up again and not everyone that does this is exactly sportif.

This morning it did rain and today it will continue to rain -- right through tomorrow. 

 

 

 

No matter. We go down to a leisurely breakfast...

And I note with deep appreciation that the girl is her old self again. Her bug lasted only a day, but her pep had been depleted somewhat, despite her enthusiasm for all that we did. Today, I see no trace of fatigue.

(I take care of various details at the hotel desk, mommy and daughter continue reading the Benefits of Being an Octopus in the hotel's living room...)

We put off until this last day the shopping for small souvenirs -- for her brothers and, too, endless incarnations of huskie key chains etc for Snowdrop's closest friends.

And a chosen stuffie from this pastry shop for her own special souvenir...

(giving me a chance to ogle these...)

(walking the streets of Chamonix, mingling with the mountain guides of yore...)

The three of us eat lunch at noon at Casa Valerio again. It was a lovely pre-skiing lunch before, and it is equally lovely today. Pizza for the girl, salads for us guys. And a few more chapters about being an octopus.

(Walk back to the hotel)

Now for the ski lesson: will it take place, given that we are experiencing on and off showers? Thomas texts -- what would you like to do? I say go for it!

Thomas is here at 2:30 and we are off! To Les Houches by car, then up in a skier's gondola to the vast ski area. The one where Snowdrop can try other ski lifts besides the rope and the dreaded t-bar that smacked her face the other day.

Me, I love this place! I came here last year by train and I hiked a beautiful trail on the mountain ridge, in and around the ski runs. It's a treat to be back, even if the weather is... iffy. Periods of rain, some sleet. 

But it's as if the world does belong to the brave: within a short while, the rains pause. They give us a good couple of hours of peace and quiet. So that she can ski and I can walk, take in the mountains, catch glimpses of her on the trails.

Later I ask Thomas -- why is it so empty? The weather? The restaurant where I paused for tea was packed last year. Inside and out. This time? I was the only one there.

What a difference a few weeks makes! He tells me soon the February school breaks will come and with it -- the crowds of French families. Others too -- many European school systems give time off for midwinter vacations.

For now, the slopes are nearly empty.

He has her get on the chair lift. It gives the longest and best runs down. And she does it. And she is so proud!

Thomas, dad to two kids, the older 6 year old very much a skier (she does too much of it! That's great, no? Well, if she wants to spend her life just skiing!), talks about the sport, the environment, the future of skiing. Despite the fact that his work so depends on snow, he is against snow blowing entire mountains so that people can ski. (It's so dirty! Maybe we should do something else...). He admits to being in the thick of the ski industry, but he worries about what his generation, our generation will leave for his kids.

Still, the snow has been good so far this year and Snowdrop surely picked up a sport that can in fact be a beautiful one, a healthy one, a confidence building one. Looking at her face in the gondola going back down, I see the joy. For this alone, I'm glad she had her ski days here.

In the evening, we go for our final dinner of just the three of us -- at Maison Carrier. Despite the fact that last year I groaned about aspects of dining here, in the end, I do believe that of the mid-price range places in Chamonix, this place is special and not only because it is in a restaurant group along with the more famous, more expensive, Michelin starred Albert 1er. It makes an effort to move beyond a tourist mecca. Locals come here for a special meal. A group of men for their evening meal out. A date. An older pair. A party of... many. Everyone knows of it, likes it. And the dessert buffet is beyond fabulous.

Snowdrop ends her Savoy eating with fondue, and especially with the dried beef that she grew to love here. 

 

(desserts)

(my plate)

We say goodnight and goodbye to Snowdrop's mom tonight (she leaves early tomorrow morning to catch her flights back home). It was such an incredible surprise and such a memorable trip for the three of us. For the ages. Thank you, for all who made this possible, not the least my daughter, who scrambled to take off when we needed to take off, and who faces piles of work that accumulated in her absence. It was surely worth it, a million times over.

With so much love...