Saint Martin de Belleville 3

The second of two brilliant days in Saint Martin de Belleville. Good morning, beautiful mountains against a clear sky!

 

 

Once again we wake up to the sun reflecting light on the mountains. (The sun comes up at 8 right now, and sets at 5:30 p.m.. By comparison, it rises at 7:20 and sets at 5 in Madison.)

Having had a full day yesterday, I feel less driven to get things done (before the weather turns). Our meetup for breakfast is nicely late (9:30!).

(we all have great breakfast appetites; case in point: my selections)

Afterwards, my daughter goes off to read while Snowdrop and I set out for a walk. I wanted to take in the one small museum they have in the village (from what I understand, it's about life in Saint Martin over the centuries). It's a short 15 minute walk down the hill.

All good, except that the museum happens to be closed on Saturdays. I'm usually careful about monitoring openings, since I'm used to the idiosyncratic breaks in Europe for lunch, for holidays, for no reason that I can figure out, but this one caught me by surprise: on Saturdays? The one day I would not have expected a closure is Saturday.

No matter. We like the walk! 

 

 

 

And I promised Snowdrop one more visit to the souvenir shop. She likes to pick up a few things for friends. We do that now.

The three of us meet up for a noon lunch at the bakery. (Madame closes for a two hour break at 12:30.) Again, no one is especially hungry, but with skiing in the early afternoon, we have to fit in this midday meal. We do go easy today. I'm thinking crepes with Nutella for the girl, a sandwich for my daughter and maybe a blueberry tart for me? Or... what's this, madame?

This is a family recipe my grandmother developed. We call it the Bellevillois. My cousin bakes all of them now! (It's with almond paste, raspberry jam and of course, blueberries.)

(individual "Bellevillois")

(up the hill to our chalet-hotel again)

(a few minutes of play with a small Lego set I'd packed for her...)

Matthieu, Snowdrop's ski instructor, is at the hotel promptly at 1:30. The girl gets ready quickly.

 

 

I would have gone to watch her ski for a small while, but today's not the day for it -- I broke down in the end and rented skis for myself. Just for one afternoon. This afternoon.

I'm not prepared for it (clothes-wise, otherwise). I'm not sure it's a smart idea (I haven't skied since Morzine three years ago and I did not like it then: I felt I'd lost control, even on the intermediate slopes, which in the past were easy peasy for me, even on icy terrain). But in the end, I talked myself into it. If not now, when it's convenient, proximate, uncrowded, sunny -- then it's a permanent good bye to a sport I have always loved (even though I Alpine-skied, as they call it here, very rarely in my adult years). And here's an additional bonus: I have never had a lesson in my life. All my skiing -- from the years I side stepped up a hill in the Polish mountains, to the mad racing down a mountain I did in my college years -- has been self-taught. Through watching others and a long time youthful subscription to Ski Magazine. French ski instruction is (relatively) not expensive and I think it is delightful. All the instructors I've watched on the slopes appear to be friendly and encouraging. Why not end my skiing career with one short lesson -- to learn what I could have done better for all my decades of skiing?

Meet Simon.

I explained my skiing history, my trepidation. My fears of having out of control skiers crash into me (Cervinia, 2007). He listened, nodded and we set off.

We stick to the nearby mountain (even though we are in the middle of the Three Valley ski area, offering possibly more ski options than any other Alpine district). At first, he watches me do an easy run off the "magic carpet" (the moving strip that hauls beginners up an incline). He nods, and says -- you're ready for the gondola. We can come down the big mountain together.

Two things happened on the long ride up in the gondola: in the last stretch, we looked out and we spotted Snowdrop with Matthieu. 

I was surprised. This is not an easy run in many places, and it is very, very long. I know she hasn't the confidence to handle a big challenge. Still, she is making her way down. With a lot of assistance. 

The second thing I noticed is that altitude changes aren't as easy at 71 years as they were at 21 (at the height of my ski activity). When we get off the gondola, Simon proposes an additional climb up by chairlift, to the very summit of the mountain. He tells me the snow is so good up there. He assures me I have the ability to ski any intermediate terrain. But I say no. I'm feeling the height and the thin air!

Okay then -- he says. Let's ski down and catch up with your granddaughter.

And we do. (The ski instructors know each other quite well here.)

That smile belies her tension: she is feeling out of her element on this run (and it is one hell of a long run and they are just at the beginning). I'm not sure she is really enjoying it. 

I give her a hug. Simon takes a photo.

I can offer encouragement, but really, there's no turning back once you start down the mountain. We leave them to their run.

At the bottom of the mountain (and it took us a good half hour to get down) I say to Simon that I'm done for the day. It's not that I am tired, but it took a chunk out me to go up, and another chunk to come down. Simon was helpful and gave me some tips on how to handle a icy and difficult incline, but otherwise my skiing technique appears to be just fine. I tell him he can use the rest of my "time" with him to go up and help Snowdrop, but he shrugs off that idea. 

Matthieu has been teaching for nine years, he can handle it.

We walk back to the hotel. I'm curious about him, about his skiing history.  He tells me he is from the next village up. His father was a ski instructor, his brother is a ski instructor.

You know, I took my grandmother skiing yesterday.

How old is she?

Eighty. But she hasn't skied in a while. She says she wants to do some now because in France, if you're over 75, ski lifts are all free, so she can go now whenever she wants to.

And how was she yesterday?

Good. But slow. She said she will only ski if she has two personal instructors: my brother and me. One in the front, one in the back.

As slow as me?

He laughs. Just like you!

I take that to be the highest compliment: I ski as well as the ancient mother and grandmother of a line of ski instructors!

And I dont break any bones, nor do I bust up my knees!

What do I wish I had known and done all the years I skied? Perhaps the shifting of body weight forward more, to support better control on steep terrain. But really, what Simon gave me was confidence to return to a tough long run. Even if I'm not likely to do it any time soon. Maybe when I'm 80!

Snowdrop comes back an hour later. She's all smiles, but she does tell me the run was difficult. She prefers practicing on the gentler slopes. It helped that they paused halfway down for a snack at a mountainside restaurant. What did you have? French fries! Matthieu had some too, but he ate his with mayo. He hates ketchup, just like me!

A few minutes later, Snowdrop goes down to the pool. I was going to leave her to swim with her mom, but the warm pool water feels good on a post-ski body. I take a dip as well, then I leave them to it. 

 

Evening rolls in and with it come the clouds, portending a very mixed weather pattern for the next three days. We'll see what we get!

Dinner time. We eat in a restaurant recommended by our hotel (they actually picked all of the dinners for us -- it's a small town and there aren't many restaurants and we aren't fussy). It's called La Ferme de la Choumette and it really is a farm, located up the mountain to the back of us (and requiring a shuttle by car from our hotel, because we should not walk up that road in the dark).

During the day, skiers stop here for lunch. In the evening the action moves inside. And here, the farmers came up with a clever idea: why not showcase the animals? The cows, the sheep -- you can see them as you walk in. There's a window separating the barn from the restaurant.

 

 

(They promise that the meats you eat are not from the animals on the farm -- these they keep only for the milk and cheese production.)

 Fondue for my dining buddies, tartiflette for me -- a Savoie dish of potatoes, onion, lardons, and Reblechon cheese -- but it was much liked by Snowdrop so we switched around some. She shared her portion of the cheese fondue.

 

 

Would you like our house Genepi liqueur? Treat from us. (It's an Alpine herbal concoction.) Sure. Ummmm, oh my, just one tiny sip is enough to waken my insides!

Satisfied and satiated we get a lift home. Once again, so grateful for the beautiful day we had here in Saint Martin de Belleville.

with love...