to Chamonix

On this first morning and only night in Switzerland, sleep is still elusive. And wouldn't you know it -- by the time I'm finally psyched for dozing off, Snowdrop, who shares a room and a large bed with me, is up with that typical first night in Europe wakefulness. After a few feeble attempts to get her back to sleep I decide it's better to talk a little, read some and then try again later. We discuss life's most perplexing issues, she gratefully takes the book I brought for her and eventually, by maybe 6 am she is out again and I finally zonk out as well. For an hour or two. We have to get up and get going: we're meeting my daughter for breakfast at 9:15. Ha! We get there first! The little girl is hungry and she just adores the Swiss meal of breads, bacon, dried beef, fruits and yogurt. And hot milky chocolate!

Good morning!

Our ride to Chamonix will pick ups up at 11:30 and so we have time to take a short walk. To the lake! (Where these two are amused by the poster ad for walruses...

It's hazy and chilly outside, but the Geneva fountain is spectacular! It shoots water up 140 meters but they do shut it down when the weather dips below freezing. We're just at that cut off point!

We do have one errand: one of us needs a bag, since a current one is so tightly zipped that I doubt it'll last the journey back. In this shop, Snowdrop is being sold on a bag of her own. I tell her I have one of these and it has lasted for decades of travel.

Lookin' good!

And now we finally turn our attention to Chamonix. The drive there is quick enough -- one hour. And as the car climbs in elevation, the clouds recede and the mountains are suddenly right before us.

Chamonix today is having the kind of weather it was once known for -- January cold, with snow showers expected every few days. Of course, their January cold never came close to Wisconsin's legendary Arctic blasts (Chamonix deep freeze this Monday night will hit 11F/-11.5C. Madison's deep freeze that same day will tumble down to -11F/-24C).

As we approach the town, we see that lovely lace of white ice crystals on the trees.  The day in the Chamonix valley could not be more beautiful!

Finally, we're at our hotel -- same one as last year's: the Mont Blanc. With the outdoor swimming pool that is open for business year-round. Snowdrop is delighted by it!

The rooms aren't ready yet and in any case, we need a lunch. I opt for the boisterous Pont du Rose. (It's that very pink building in the photo below.) I actually haven't eaten there at all, because it seemed too impersonal and crowded for a solo dinner, but with the two of them here now, it seems really perfect for a solid lunch. (I have an egg on brioche with cheese sauce and mushrooms, my daughter has cheesey gnocchi, and my grandgirl wants her good old pasta with Parmesan. Italy is just on the other side of these mountains, so you could forgive her for wanting Parmesan over, say a Savoie Reblechon or Tomme de Savoie.)

It is not possible for me to even imagine travel to this mountainous region of France without at least throwing a glance at and putting up a photo of a wild blueberry tart.

I show restraint: we walk over to the Chalet 8412 Pastry shop/cafe and I order the small version of the above.

We poke around the Chamonix main drag -- an activity very much enjoyed by Snowdrop as she wants to get good souvenirs for those back home. And eventually we make our way back to the hotel. Our rooms are ready for check-in!

(I did not book the room with the view toward Mont Blanc for Snowdrop and me. I felt the one with the views toward the Aiguille du Midi peaks (less expensive!) would suffice and too, they have more space for play.

But we don't linger in the rooms. We don't even unpack. The two younger ones want to go swimming.

... followed by a soak in the tub. All outside, in below freezing weather.

Shower, rest, unpack, talk to those back home and the afternoon flies! Would you believe it -- it's time to walk down to town for dinner. 

 (Our room is on the American 6th floor, but we always use the stairs. At least on the exit!)

I prebooked all our evening meals and it's a good thing, because all these places fill up every day in the winter season. Today's choice is La Caleche. It's one of the more Alpine-styled eating choices and I figured it would be a good jump off point into French Savoie foods.

In the end, to appease all palates, we order fondue again, this time made with Savoie regional cheeses and accompanied by a Savoyard charcuterie tray. And we add to it a plate of scallops with mushrooms. Where's the ocean, you ask. Well, a "few" kilometers away. But the mushrooms are local and we are all happy to share our foods so that everyone gets a little of this and a lot of that.

In the dining room, on one side, we have a couple from France, on the other -- well, a table of Russian women. Sigh... What can I say...

So ends our first day in Chamonix. Fabulous weather, wonderful arrival. We will plunge into our adventures full steam tomorrow. In the meantime, here's to a night of good sleep!

with love...

to Geneva

Long after we'd arrived at the airport in Chicago yesterday, boarding passes in hand, TSA cleared, I kept scrolling to look at the weather app. I'd been "oh no-ing" it for so long now! That we came out fine is still a bit of a miracle. We left the storm behind us, but we came so close to having it wreck our week. And yes, it was a wrecking ball for many, in far graver circumstances than a mere cancelling of a trip. I know that. Still, I wanted to save this excursion for sure! Daughter travel is rare. Granddaughter travel will also turn rare soon enough.

After all that worry, once in flight, everything moved smoothly. A little late here and there, but nothing that cost us a connection. Still, I couldn't sleep. When you get wound up, it takes a while to let out that coil of nerves. 

In Paris, we walked over (did not need to run!) to our gate and very soon after, we were in flight to Geneva.

Geneva. I never write anything great about the city, because I've never fallen in love with the place. It has always been a stopover. To the mountains, from the mountains. The city is actually rather pretty. The lake is fabulous and on good weather days you can see the Alpine peaks to the south. The old town is attractive (the Swiss "neutrality" during the war surely helped preserve its architecture). And it's very cosmopolitan. All those international organizations that base their headquarters here ensure a diverse crowd of visitors.

And yet. To me it feels serious and staid. Attractive, but not a place I'd like to intentionally explore for more than a day or two. 

Nonetheless, to Snowdrop, it's an entirely new experience. If asked, she'll say Switzerland reminds her of milk chocolate (she got that one right!). And she has been hearing a lot about melted cheese. On potatoes, in fondue pots, seemingly everywhere. Geneva preserves that Swiss Alpine food culture.

(landing in Geneva is always fabulous; here, the Alpine peaks float on top of puffy clouds)

 

We cab over to the hotel -- which is smack in the center of the old town. Les Armures. I'd never stayed there before and in more active seasons, this would be out of my price range, but the last minute prices were sensible, so I booked two rooms. Cheaper than spending an extra night in Chamonix, which right now is entering its peak season.

Lunch is right adjacent to the hotel. The restaurant of Les Armures has actually been well loved for a long time. People say it's Geneva's oldest cafe. Can I say it -- it is really, really Swiss in appearance and in food. I have a Rösti (pan fried grated potatoes -- I used to always make this dish for the holidays...), Snowdrop and her mom share a cheese fondue and a platter of air dried beef. The little one proclaimed it to be the best beef she has eaten in her life! (It helped that she was hungry, going on just a piece of bread with butter for many many hours now.)

And now both girl and mom are itching to just lie down and rest. A book or a tablet for company. The quiet of a room with very thick walls. Me, I head out. One of us left her glasses somewhere, possibly on the airplane. That is not good. One of us cannot see very far without them. I'm on a mission. Is it possible to get something close to the prescription, made up within... well, a very short time?

I walk to the lake, and through the old town, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...to the commercial center and I stop by the first eye glass store on my way. The person there makes calls. He frowns at the absence of a doctor's prescription. He calls and chats some more. He offers coffee while I wait. And finally he comes back with a qualified yes. They can do it (because they have some lenses that are close enough to what is needed already made), and they can be ready before our departure tomorrow. We just have to come back tonight before closing to measure and finalize the order.

Where are you staying? -- he asks.

Les Armures....

Good choice! (well that's a relief!) You should definitely eat at their restaurant. They do have the best cheese fondue! (I'm living the man's dream...)

I ask -- you know, I was curious -- that dried beef, are you supposed to dip that in the cheese too?

You could, but I usually dip the bread then wrap the beef around the cheesy piece! (Next time we'll know!)

A few more blocks this way, that was. I'd forgotten my trusty Melatonin, so I pop into a pharmacy. Sorry, here you need a prescription for it. Ah well... I'm not convinced it works that well anyway. I make my way back to the hotel, where I find that in the short time I was away, tablet chords have disappeared. Plugs have failed. I tell you, I should not leave the room. You never know what may happen in my absence.

Toward evening, Snowdrop comes out for a walk with me. To look around. To feel Geneva in the wintertime. To get some Swiss air. To buy a toothbrush. (One has mysteriously disappeared!) And to sample Swiss chocolates.

(It's one degree above freezing and the Swiss choose to sip beverages outside!)

It;s getting late. Time for all of us to head out for supper, with a stop over at the eye glass store. They guy charges for nothing but the frames and he finds us the cheapest ones in the store, knowing damn well that this is an emergency pair that may not be a perfect match.

Supper? We eat at the Cafe du Centre, which is pretty much in Geneva's center (!). Again, a venerable institution. We're not exactly starving, but still, we eat abundantly. Shrimp, risotto, snails. You can guess which one of us ordered what dish. We are content.

And then we crash. Totally. No explanation needed. Good night!

with love...

going home

Most cities are calm on Sunday. Or calmer, because ultimately, if the weather is good, people do come out. Geneva, at least in the district where I stayed, is not only calm, it is completely zonked out. I stepped out of my hotel this morning, looked this way, looked that way...

Dead. 

I suspected it would feel closed and shuttered when I noticed that no stores open on Sunday. Too, it's a little chilly still. Especially in the early hours. So -- nothing's stirring.

I had eaten breakfast in my little room at the Cigogne. Not that I felt the need to eat in bed.

It was more of a precaution. Infection rates in Switzerland are not exactly low enough to make me want to gratuitously take off my mask in a public dining room and I wasn't sure how crowded it would be. We received many encouragements to order breakfast in the room and so I thought there must be a good reason for it.

Not that I ate much. It's unfortunate to waste this much food, so I made a good effort, but I know I have three flights, and plenty of sitting time. It's not a day for heavy eating.

I took a taxi to the airport. It's only some twenty minutes away (on emptied out streets) and normally I would take the train, but I wasn't going to push it. Might there be traveling crowds? I have skis and a suitcase and a backpack. It's awkward.

We arrived at the airport and it was the same as last week -- total chaos. Long lines, basically standing still, with someone shouting again and again -- Easy Jet, over here, Easy Jet, over here! From what I could tell, "the system" had gone down and everything was running behind schedule. It was impressive then that my Air France flight took off 5 minutes ahead of planned departure.

I had a family with three toddlers behind me. The father suggested, apologetically and in beautiful French, that I perhaps might want to switch seats so that I would sit in front of his little girl rather than in front of his little boy. She's more calm, he said with a "what are you gonna do" expression on his face. Of course, I insisted that the boy wont bother me with his tiny little legs barely reaching my chair. I want to be supportive of parents who fly with little ones. Did I regret it? Let's just say it was a short flight.

Bye Geneva with the tall fountain in the lake..

... and the mountains, hidden behind a layer of haze.

It was grand to be in this part of the world for one short week.

In Paris it's the usual long walk, lots of rechecks and controls, the type of stuff that irritates Ed more than it irritates me. It's something that you mindlessly tolerate. If you start complaining about inconvenience then you may as well stay home and suffer none of it. Travel is rarely without its small snafus. Sort of like life.

I continued on Air France from Paris, all the way to Detroit. Again, I was lucky. We'd had quite the storms and hefty winds in the Midwest. Had I been returning yesterday, I would have had delays and cancellations. As it is, I had plenty of time in Detroit to make my connection and by 10:30p.m. I was driving home to the farmette.

I made it just before the snow came!

So let me offer a post scriptum to this week away. As always I was immensely torn: to write carefully, or to spend the day lost in the mountains, with only the late, late evening hours left to scribble notes on Ocean. Never do I want to say so much with so little time to think it all through as when I travel. No matter. Stuff stays with you in ways you don't fully appreciate until weeks later.

Still, it was very strange to be leaving a Europe at war. If you had asked me how I saw the year 2022 on the eve of the New Year, I would have worried about the pandemic, the climate, a thousand other issues big and small. I would not have thought to worry about the people in the Ukraine, or Poland for that matter, or any other nation within Russia's perceived reach. And here I am, not even done with winter, worried about all those horrors, feeling the need to stay informed to the max, even as there's very little you or I can do to help those who are so in need of help right now. Except -- be smart and stay informed. We owe them that.

At home, Ed is immersed in his projects, Dance is meowing in welcoming ways, the chickens are in the coop, all five thriving still. No predator managed to tear apart their peaceful night. Lucky chickens. Lucky us.

Good night from the farmhouse, with love...

 

Morzine to Geneva

Morzine grows quiet on a Saturday morning. Overnight it emptied out. School kids from Paris are back in Paris. British families have done their week. They're at the airport now. Madame here, at Le Samoyede, told me that next week they expect only one French booking. The rest will be foreigners. Her country men and women tend to stick to set holidays. They like traveling in their granted vacances windows. And for them, the winter vacances window has just closed.

By chance, I overlapped with them and for me too, this is a day of departure. Breakfast is shrinking as we speak!

I have enough time for a walk and I try a new set of blocks, which, unfortunately puts me right by a store type I love in this country: it's a mix of newspapers, cards, books and small toys. You would have to be pretty stubborn in your preferences not to find ten or twenty great things to take back home to your grandkids.  That, and a few cards to put in my stack of greeting cards that are so very useful to have around.

It's sunny, but still cold. I think some chilly winds blew in something resembling Arctic air overnight. I pull up my zipper, and then pull it down again. In an hour and a half, I'll be in Geneva. It's going to get up to 50F (10C) in Geneva today. (This optimism leaves me once I am actually in Geneva. That lake! Such cold breezes blow across it!)

Well, goodbye Morzine. You've been great for taking me out of all the tense times of the pandemic. (I am sorry you're plunking me back down into a world of war!)

The drive seems long. Many curves and inclines. And then there's traffic in the city. Wait, I need to refresh my attitude toward this city that I cannot seem to learn to love. Hey, must be tough to be Swiss, surrounded on all sides (but for a tiny linking strip and half a lake) by France.

My history with Geneva is so complicated. I've come through more than a dozen times and rarely stayed more than a night or two at most. Why linger... If you ever look up the "ten best things to do in Geneva" you'll find that number one on everyone's list is to go look at Geneva's iconic fountain in the lake. I mean, it's pretty, but it's one stream of water. A lot of it, but still -- water.

The second thing that stands out here is the flower clock.

Check. 

And chocolates. Geneva is known for good chocolates. (So are a number of other places, but still. Switzerland = good chocolate.)

 

And there's the old town. I'm staying, as always, close to the old town. This time I have a lovely room at Hotel de la Cigogne. 

 

 

 

But here's the thing: the city is so expensive that I cannot get myself to spend the money on anything but the most basic available. No view. Looks out at a courtyard. But, it is a very nice room. With very crisp linens. Another Swiss classic.

 

 

I did this with the thought that I might be stuck here for a week if my Covid test comes back positive. The shower in the bathroom is so nice that I can see myself standing in its warm stream for maybe two or three hours each day if I run out of things to do in the room itself.

It's past noon now. I leave my bags and head out. 

(The Swiss flag is like the Savoie flag, only the Swill white cross is a tiny bit smaller.)

 

 

 

I walk, not so much to sight see (I've seen the sights! See above...) but to go to the pharmacy that does Covid tests for weary travelers. And it was the best test I have ever had (and I've had a lot!). He did it exactly right, following the nasal canal. And thankfully I am negative. I've been self testing in Morzine every couple of days so you could say I wasn't surprised, but in fact, I was surprised. And a bit relieved too. I had totally entered the stream of life in Morzine. 100%. I did not hold back. I used my good mask constantly when faced with tricky crowds, but I did not stay away from crowded situations.

After the test, I plunged into my Geneva agenda. The thing is, I need to keep busy here, or else I succumb to the city's stiffness and gloom. (Sorry, I keep seeing it that way.)

As I walked, I thought how I should have a real soft spot toward Geneva: this is where the United Nations began, and my father was very much involved in those early formative years of that organization. Had the UN stayed in Geneva instead of moving to New York, I may have lived for several years as a child in this city. I wondered if Geneva is better to live in than to visit. Yet, as I once explained to a friend from Switzerland back when I was much younger -- I can't imagine living in a country that had an even worse record of acquiescing to the rights of women than Poland did and that's saying a lot (women couldn't vote in Switzerland until 1971, and in some cantons' local elections, that date is much later). 

They do have good cheese product thought! Down to the red fruit glazed cheesecake!

 

 

 

I had decided to use this half day to shop for the kids. Clothes. By now I sort of know what they all like and there are shops that could do well by them. So I walk for miles, going to one, not finding the next, finally doing most of my purchases in Petit Bateau which no longer operates out of the US, but still feels to me like the best simple kids clothes store on the planet.  

 

(One of those street selfies...)

 

 

And I pop into Zara, because the prices there are way low (-ish, because this is Switzerland and nothing in this country is way low without the ish).

And this is when I see the cops block of a stream of traffic and I hear it: the march. Thousands of people, feeling the pain that I feel, that I know you feel, marching for the people of the Ukraine.

 

I'm with them. Of course I am. If you were here, you'd join too. How can you not.

(I see this sign and I kick my self for allowing old stereotypes to fester within me! SO easy to misjudge people you don't really know...)

(Oh, and how can you not love a people who plant crocus bulbs in their grass strips!)

 

Evening: a negroni in the lovely hotel lobby now that I know I dont have Covid...

Dinner: well, I thought about this for a good bit before I even left home. Eating in Geneva has always felt depressing to me. I will happily eat alone at any restaurant in most any country. But in Switzerland I feel like somehow everyone's speaking a different language (even though in Geneva they speak French) and no meal is worth that feeling of distance between yourself and your surroundings. And have I ever mentioned the fact that people here seem like they are way stodgier than even me, and I'm 68, so pretty stodgy, just by virtue of age. (These are my feelings which probably have more to do with me than with Genevens.) So I pick a Nordic place, where a woman is a chef and she is quite renowned and by the way, despite the food's reputation, they don't use table cloths. So not stodgy.

It's called Fiskbar and it's less than ten minutes from my hotel. Across the bridge.

 

 

 

The short distance is important -- I'm not a little tired. (An admission: I loved my hotel in Morzine, but the internet speed was ... slow. I stayed up til at least midnight every day trying to get the photos to load. 25 pics each day -- that's many hours of patient waiting until I could get them onto the blog. So I will be making up for lost sleep once I get back home.) 

I dont have to praise the food at Fiskbar. It goes without saying that it is excellent. It's the first time I will have eaten in a Michelin rosette place since I took my kids to one back in Paris before most of the grandkids were even born. For all I know, it may be the last rosette place I go to! It's a rare night that I decide it's worth the drain on my retirement savings.

But tonight, it is in fact worth the drain. It's been a harrowing two years and we have no idea what the next ones will bring. So, I eat well tonight. 

Though it's never just about the food. To have a good meal, you have to know a little of what's behind it. And you have to like what you learn. This evening, for example, Fiskbar's chef, Francesca Fucci Priscilla came out to chat with me. I suppose one gets curious about the solo ancient woman diner who speaks French, but looks like she's from elsewhere. (Perhaps less stodgy. I tried!) In any case, we talked. I of course praised her brilliant imagination (because this is what stood out for me -- not only the preparation, but the creativity, behind everything. ) We talked, too, a little about Covid. I said -- well, at least that's passing for now. And she said -- yes, but now there's a war! 

So then instead of talking about the fantastic way she prepared a clementine within a meringue in olive oil (she may cook Nordic, and speak French, but she's Italian! From Puglia!)...

 

... we talk about the war.

 Francesca is both brilliant and a very decent human being.

And after, I walk back to the hotel and I think -- I was young, and so often I felt lost in this city. I'm older and I no longer feel lost. People are people. When you see them marching in earnest, draped in blue and yellow flags, when you meet them in their own anxious moment after a meal, you remember: Geneva isn't really that much different from any other city. It's just more expensive and maybe a little stiff. Until you see and meet the people who actually live here and it turns out they're not stiff at all.

A pinch in the arm moment: good people are there. All wanting the same peace, the same good life for themselves, for their kids.

All under one moon.

with love...