*Above the clouds
So off we went to the Alps. It was a weeklong preview of heaven, a limited-time-only glance into Paradise. Matt and I dragged our wearied bodies onto the 7 am train departing Angers for Lyon. Our assigned seats were far away from each other, but we took the risk and sat next to each other anyway, knowing we would need to help each other wake up at the other end. At Lyon, feeling only slightly less bleary, we switched to the regional train that would carry us through the mountains. Our final train stop was Saint Jean de Maurienne, which is about an hour from the city of Grenoble. We arrived at Saint Jean just in time to catch the next bus up the mountain.
We were a little worried by the rather astonishing lack of snow around us. I began to wonder if our ski holiday would become a hiking holiday instead. Yet, as the bus wound around the turns of the switchback mountain road, we calmed down. The higher we went, the more evidence of winter we saw. By the time we reached La Toussuire, our particular ski station, the ground was covered. There were, however, several runs of the ski hill closed due to faible enneigement (poor snow cover). The bus stopped right in front of our chalet, Les Résidences Goélia. Matt and I checked in and headed up to our apartment. We didn't have our own building, but a suite in a building of 12 or so. It comprised a bedroom, bathroom, WC, kitchenette, and living/dining room (with futon). It was a lovely, darling apartment. And our view! Our balcony looked south-east over the mountain peaks, a sight I never tired of. In the early morning we awoke to a stunning sunrise, during the day we got the full power of a hot sun, and in the evening we got to watch as the last light disappeared. As soon as it got dark, the yellow glow of another mountain village appeared across the valley. I took more pictures from our balcony than from anywhere else that week.
Laura and Aurélien, the poor things, arrived exhausted late that night. Their first train was late, forcing them to miss the second. As a result, they took another train into the middle of nowhere, then a bus, and finally a taxi. Nevertheless, they were happy to arrive. We all slept in on Sunday morning, our plan being to take the day to orient ourselves and start skiing the following day. The town of La Toussuire is not so much a town as a giant loop. It was about a 15-20 minute walk from our chalet into the centre.
Despite its tiny size, it was rather lively during the day. Like any ski village, the commercial establishments were either ski equipment stores/rentals, grocery stores, restaurants, or bars. As you can imagine, the prices of food were outrageous, many things being at least a euro more expensive than the same products in Angers. In fact, I had naïvely thought we could each spend about 30 euro on food for the week. Ha! Quelle blague. It ended up being about 70 euro per person. Now, we didn't exactly skimp on food either. On the contrary -- we ate like kings! The four of us demolished about 4 baguettes/loaves of bread a day (yes, that would make an entire baguette per person...), 1.5 kilos of Nutella, several jars of jam, countless bottles of wine and beer, olives, avocados, cheese, pasta with rosé sauce, crêpes, savoury soups, and the pièce de résistance, la tartiflette. I'm going to explain this little beauty to you all in the hopes that you understand to at least some degree it's value. First, you boil a lot of potatoes. Then slice them, lay the slices in a casserole dish. On top you add a combination of caramelised onions, crême fraîche, and lardons (little cubes of ham), and finally a thick layer of rablochon cheese. Repeat. Put in the oven for a few minutes until it melts into a wildly creamy, rich mess of mountainy goodness. It was into creations such as this that we gladly poured our money on our daily supermarket runs.
On Sunday evening, we discovered there was a skating rink in town that was open at night. It was still light when we arrived, and we amused ourselves enormously on the otherwise empty rink. About half-way through our alloted two hours, Matt went back to the skate rental booth and came back with a handful of hockey sticks. Being a true Vancouver boy, he has been playing hockey since he was a fetus. The rest of us... well. I think we did quite well considering! The rink was unintelligently designed in such a way that there was a sizable gap between the barrier wall facing the street and the ice. We had to pause our game numerous times to ask passersby to throw us the puck from where it had been slapshot-ed into the snow a level below. It was so refreshing to be back on a skating rink, sliding around like crazies and getting as competitive as our skill levels would allow.
Monday morning, we were on the hill. We bought a four day pass, figuring we would decide later on how to spend Friday. We picked up our skis and boots, and made our way up the mountain. It was cold, but gosh was it beautiful. Mother nature had clearly decided to show herself off: the sun blazed at full power, the snow scintillait (sparkled), the mountains loomed huge and purple. From the summit, we could look down at the scattering of snowy villages below, and to the east was a mass of cloud so thick that it could almost have been an alpine lake. There were many times when we would all just stand around looking at the view, not speaking. We really just couldn't believe our luck. The snow was alright -- a little icy, especially at the end of the day, but we discovered some less-frequented runs. There were a couple pistes with some wicked bumps, and if you came at them with enough speed you were guaranteed to catch a little air.
Here was our daily pattern: wake up, eat a divine breakfast of bread, nutella, and confiture (jam), get dressed while listening to pumping music, ski out our door to the chairlift (booya!), take advantage of the early morning groomed snow, come in around noon for a two hour lunch, return to the hill until it closed at 4:45, ski back to our front door, drink hot chocolate, laze on our balcony in stupefied happiness listening to calm music, make dinner, eat, then play games and/or attempt to go to the bar. We had our meals set up quite well. We would decide on the following meal's menu on the hill, then someone would go grocery shopping when we got in. Whoever didn't help make the meal did the washing up, and the cooks would relax. We ended up fighting over who would wash dishes, buy groceries, and set the table. "No no no! I said I would do that! Go relax. Really! Sit!" Stubborn lot we were. Each dinner was preceded by an apératif, usually a bowl of olives, sausage slices, chips, and beer mixed with an orange liqueur called Picon. We would have a baguette or two handy to have with the meal, and then some sort of dessert after, even if it was only yoghurt.
Man, it was such a blast. We listened to so much music, mostly oldies rock and soul. We danced around the chalet, laughing and making fun of each other. We created a four-member club, complete with its own hierarchy (president, VP, slave, creepy-crawly). We played the same game every evening: you write down a whole bunch of words or phrases. The goal is to get one of the other players to guess as many of the words as possible. First round, you go around the circle and each person has 30 seconds to explain as many of the words as possible without actually saying the word. Second round, you can only say one word. Third round, you have to act it out. Fourth round, you can only make one sound. Given that Aurélien had been teaching us all sorts of French vocabulary throughout the week, and we were teaching him some useful (or not so useful) English words, it became an excellent way to practise our new knowledge. Example: yardsale (expression for when someone wipes out spectacularly on the hill, leaving one ski up the mountain, another one that slides downhill, and poles lost off to the side somewhere), creepy, and hefty. In French: démangeaison (itch), éblouir (blinded by the sun), and tire-fesses (t-bar).
On Friday, Aurélien, Laura and I took a little lie-in, but Matt got up early to try his hand at snowboarding. The rest of us decided to conquer the mountain on foot. It was a warm day and the snow was soft. Half-way up the hill, we called Matt and made him take the tire-fesses over to us. After a nice little chat, we sent him back down the hill, and we continued our way upward. The sense of satisfaction I felt upon reaching the peak was extraordinary. Naturally, we celebrated with a beer. The idea of walking back down was not inviting, so we asked the nearest chairlift operator if we could take the lift down. It was, I believe, my first time going down a mountain in a lift! Those of you who ski know how funny it is to see people coming in the wrong direction. We smiled and waved at the laughing faces that came towards us, and enjoyed the view. The four of us reconvened for lunch, and then again when the hill closed. That night we were determined to go out to the bar. We had tried a couple times before, but the first time the town was dead, and the second time all we found was a live punk rock concert. I appreciate a little punk in the appropriate circumstances but... that was not one of them. And so it was that on Friday we sat in the town's main bar, determined to stay and enjoy a drink despite it being 'Amateur Reggae Night.' Once we had had quite enough of that, thank you very much, Laura and Aurélien went home and Matt and I headed to the discothèque. Despite arriving at about 12:30, there was no more than a handful of people there, and not a single couple on the dance floor. Matt and I decided to be brave and get the party started. The club started filling over the next hour, and by 1:30 it was feeling less like a high school dance. We danced until 3, at which time we retreated home and collapsed in a pile of exhaustion.
The next day, we returned to Angers sad to be leaving but happy that it happened. Such an incredible holiday. I couldn't have gone with more wonderful people. Nothing like going away with your best friends only to discover that you love them even more than you previously thought.
ps. photos to come!
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