Le Franco Phoney

Out for a coffee the other day, I was surprised to see I’d scored myself a sugar daddy, so I took a photo. Here is my sugar daddy. Actually, it’s a ‘sucre daddy’ (‘sucre‘ is French for sugar), and as you can see, it’s the name of the sachet of sugar that came with my coffee.

The anglo meaning of sugar daddy does not translate as ‘papa du sucre‘ in French at all. As far as I’m aware, there’s no name for a sugar daddy in French. So, this translation is lost on many of the French people I know who don’t really know the phrase in English even if they’re fluent.

The person/people who came up with the sugar sachet name should give themselves a hearty slap on the back as it made my day — and no doubt the days of many other English speakers.

Monday 25th April is the last day that the lifts will be open in La Clusaz (it’s also the very important ANZAC Day in Australia and New Zealand, lest we forget). The eminent closure of the few remaining ski lifts in one of only three ski resorts still open in Haute Savoie has prompted me to present the three final signs from telecabines in La Clusaz which could be misinterpreted.

Firstly, there’s the “No mobile phones that require pens in this cabin” sign. Or is that “No miniature stick figures poking out of your mobile phone”? It’s certainly a far cry from the detailed line drawing figure I wrote about previously with their suits and business shoes. Actually, it’s a person leaning out of a cabin, although it’s not very representative of the cabin shape.

Next up is a symbol that’s far better at capturing the shape of the cabin a bit more accurately. Why did they not apply this to the one above instead of trying to reinvent the wheel? Anyway, this one looks to me like “No ballet allowed in the cabin”, although as a visiting friend remarked upon seeing the sign, “What’s wrong with stretching if there’s enough room? Is it the leaning you’re not allowed to do?” Bingo! At least one other person took a moment to realise that the sign actually means “Don’t swing the cabin”. Of course. The good news is that I can carry on doing ballet while my friend leans on me to stretch. Not swinging the cabins is actually very important. If the swinging causes the cable to wobble too much, the cable could misalign with the pylon wheels that move it forward, causing the cable to fall to the ground (along with all the cabins and people). But don’t panic: this is hardly a common occurrence as the cabins are engineered to withstand high winds and the swinging that happens when the lift stops suddenly. I recall seeing the Lakeside poma (drag lift) at Falls Creek in Australia stopped with the cable off because, allegedly, someone let go of the lift before the end of the run, and the poma bounced up and caused the cable to fall off. This was back in the 80s before the web existed, but I heard at the time that people using the lift at suffered broken legs and other injuries when the heavy cable fell on them. Now, if I really need to get off a drag lift before the end, I make sure I do so right after a pylon to limit the impact on the length of cable. Thankfully, these accidents are rare, so let’s lighten the mood .

Finally, we have this gem of a symbol which is pretty obvious: “No open fires in the cabin”. Yes, you can’t mistake this one. So if you see anyone rolling their barbeque into a telecabine at La Balme this weekend, remind them that they’ll have to wait to get to the top before they fire it up and start sizzling those sausages. I’m surprised they haven’t bothered with signs such as “No blow-up paddle pools”, “No fireworks” or “No sucking on icicles in case you stumble and they make you bleed a lot and scar the roof of your mouth” (how I wish I knew that one when I was about eight – the scar is still there), as all these things seem about as relevant as someone seriously starting a fire.

Pictured is a photo I snapped outside one of the snack bars near a piste in La Clusaz. Here is an ice cream board with very few ice creams available. Okay, it’s been a warm winter, but not warm enough for ice cream sales to soar to the point of being sold out.

Black crosses adorn all but four brands (although the Cornetto brand has three of the four varieties still available).

The snack bar is only small, so it’s possible that they’ve never stocked the entire range shown on the board (although most seem to show prices written in the same black marker pen, indicating they were once available). Whatever the reason, this board is equivalent to dangling a carrot in front of a donkey’s face. “Oh look at the nice Double Caramel Magnum: how tasty eh? You want one? Too bad — you can’t have it. Drool over the photo while you chow down on a Chocolate Mini Milk instead.”

Surely the delivery rep from Miko has seen this dire shortage and could provide the snack bar with a sign showing a more restricted range of ice creams. Other places as small as the snack bar must surely have the same ice cream storage limitations. But then, maybe the snack bar is facing an ice cream shortage because the rep is taking advantage of this warm weather somewhere coastal. He or she is no doubt enjoying a few Double Caramel Magnums in the sun.

I’m curious to see what the ice cream board says next season when the snack bar re-opens for winter. Maybe there will be one big red circle around the Twister to highlight that it’s still available amongst all its crossed-out peers.

Something that appeared in La Clusaz in recent years is this cluster of four statues carved out of wood. What makes these special is that they’ve been carved where the original trees grew. Their roots are still in the ground. The statue of Mary that they’re facing has been there for much longer, which makes the wooden carvings look even fresher.

I’ve zoomed into the two figures on the right, as the woman praying shows how the carved wood blends with the tree trunk. The man on the left has a walking stick which must have been delicate to carve without breaking.

The little girl pictured is facing away from the figure of Mary which seems a bit strange, but there must be a reason behind it. I have no idea who carved these or why the town decided to cut down the trees to make them into statues, and nobody else seems to know either.

The carvings can be seen just after the last roundabout in town for the direction of the route to the Col des Aravis (at the top of the one-way system). It’s a bit of an arterial so the rally cars and touring families/bikers that zoom past in summer no doubt enjoy the view in a flash. I’m not sure how many winter visitors notice the carvings in the snow while they’re carrying their skis and attempting to walk in clunky boots. So if you’re visiting La Clusaz in summer or winter, remember to take a peek before you miss it.

Since the last French advertisement went down so well, I wanted to post this McVities ad currently on TV. McVities make biscuits in England, and their ad pokes fun at themselves with the phrase: “They’re English but they’re good.”

However, I only realised that this advertisement is to help McVities relaunch their biscuits in France, and the original ad from a few years ago is far, far more entertaining. I recommend you watch this (it’s in English):

So, what do you think?

My mum arrived a few days ago, and I’m enjoying seeing France through her Australian eyes. She’s reminding me of all the great and odd things about France that I’ve become so used to that I barely even notice. The scenery is the most obvious of things, with chocolate box-style chalets dotted around and hills of grass topped with white snowy peaks. Beautiful and enormous, I’ve grown to take the scenery for granted.

Meanwhile, she loved our visit to the post office. “Wow,” she said, “THIS makes a nice change from MY post office visits in Australia!” Why? Because the guy behind the desk said hello to us both, then asked how we were, then chattered away while weighing my two items of mail, then licked each stamp and attached them for me, then popped the envelopes in the mail outbox before finally tallying up the total. He also said goodbye and wished us a good day as we left. I’d never really thought about it before, but I can’t imagine any Aussie Post worker licking my stamps or posting my mail.

On a less positive note, there’s the roads. Clinging to her seat, my mum was terrified as I drove around bendy, narrow mountainous roads at a speed that she didn’t think possible. I’m not a fast driver, nor have I ever had an accident. Gripping her seat, she had to look away from the drop on one side of the road which had no barrier to prevent any cars from just dropping off the side. She’s lucky there was no fog, like on the road pictured, or random obstacles such as herds of sheep or tractors. Down in Annecy, we left a three-lane, well-made motorway/freeway and took the off-ramp directly onto a pot-holed mess of a road that had no road markings until beyond the first small intersection. “It’s like we’re in the sticks,” my mum said, while the car bounced between pot-holes, “except this is still the centre of town, right?” We certainly weren’t far away. However, back at home in St Jean de Sixt, it’s clear that we are. “I don’t hear any car horns,” she said to me, suspiciously. She’s right: outside of peak season, the only time the car horns go are for weddings on Saturdays, when the procession of wedding guests behind the happy couple toot their klaxons the whole way to the reception. She’s got that to look forward to at the end of this week — along with the clanging Sunday church bells which start at 8am.

April Fool’s Day in France is known as Poisson d’avril (April Fish) thanks to a bizarre tradition of sticking paper fish to people’s backs. Perhaps equivalent to ‘Kick me’ signs in English, the fish should only be attached on 1st April, and retailers encourage such behaviour by baking fish-shaped pastries and making fish-shaped chocolates. So how and why did this start? Nobody seems to know for sure but there are many theories, ranging from the date’s proximity to the Pisces astrological sign (although it falls smack bang in the middle of Aries) to when mackerals are good for eating to a French king’s change to the calendar year start date, which had been 1st April prior to his change, with many of his subjects refusing to let go of the day as a deay of celebration. And what better way to celebrate than to stick a fish on your mate’s back?
So, I gave it a go this morning. My cat, Bruno had no idea when I slapped this paper fish on his back while he slept, curled up, on his favourite soft toy (which happens to be a dog – double ‘hah!’). I giggled away and taunted him with ‘poisson d’avril‘ as I took this photo. Then I realised that the fish looks quite like a dolphin and I think the cat may have had the last laugh.

Anyway, I’m off to the bakery to pick up some fish-shaped pastries before they’re gone for another year.