Le Franco Phoney

Pictured is the memorial set up for the local resistance fighters during World War 2 who lost their battle and their lives. A quick overview: the plateau was the perfect location for the allies to drop a supply of ammunition and weapons for the resistance. However, the planes dropping supplies needed a full moon and good weather, so timing was limited. In February 1944, the first drop was planned, but the weather prevented most of the supplies from being dropped, and the locals had to wait for the next full moon a month later. By that time, the Nazis and Vichy government supporters were moving in. The March drop was made, but the deep snow made it difficult for the resistance fighters to get to their new supplies before they were killed.

Information boards are dotted around the plateau to explain some of the horrors and joys in more detail. The original chalet that was used as a hospital was burnt down by the Nazis, who also shot the sick and injured as they tried to escape. A single white cross in the middle of the cross-country ski circuit marks the spot where one of the injured resistance fighers was shot as he escape from the hospital.

Apart from the information boards, the plateau shows few signs of such horrors. Nature trails take visitors through fields of cows, entrusting them to close the gates after them, and the views from the hills of the plateau are beautiful. A number of refuges are open for lunch and overnight stays, and with today’s calmness juxtaposing the calamity of 1944, I felt like staying for more than the day.

The memorial pictured was built in the 70s after a competition was held for the best design. This one shows the shoulders and head of a person, with one arm raised and the other cut off, hampered by opponents. Outside are two black statues of people curled up — a stark contrast to the white, straight edges in the background.

Getting to the plateau is possible from Annecy or a back road near Entrémont, just down the road from St Jean de Sixt. My recommendation would be to take the road from Annecy. The back road is narrow, steep and scary enough in summer without the snow to make it slippery.

The great thing about living in the French Alps is that the local villages put on all sorts of entertainment for families to lure them away from the beaches or from other mountain resorts. At the moment, four of the villages (St Jean de Sixt, La Clusaz, Le Grand Bornand and Manigod) are holding the Aravis et Compagnies festival (ending tonight), which involves various sports or physical activities for kids and adults to try. So, why the birds?

St Jean de Sixt is holding “air”, which means trampolines and wind-powered mini-boats and lots of jingling and clanking from wind-powered instruments. I checked it out and found the birds just sitting on their respective hay stacks, looking a bit scared by the commotion around them, although the owl looked a bit high.

The security was typically French, with just one blue rope keeping the birds and kids safe from each other. It worked, and it was great to be so close to the birds without anything hampering the view. When the birds were brought out to fly, the public were given very clear instructions on where to stand and what to do. One kid didn’t listen. The eagle flew from the woman back to the man (pictured two left from the red flag in the top photo), and a kid ran towards the man just before the eagle reached him. The man had the microphone and yelled at the kid and pushed him back forcefully while the eagle landed on his arm. Obviously, he pushed him back for the kid’s own safety, but I’m not sure the kids around him understood, with their mouths open in horror as the man yelled over the microphone. Maybe a blue rope would have been useful during the exhibition.

Meanwhile, in La Clusaz, a mini mountain bike course is open to all (they’ve got “Cycle” this year), while Le Grand Bornand has high ropes all over the place (“cords”), and people can turn into hippies up at Manigod with “nature attitude” providing information on herbal remedies from local plants, yoga and more. Pity it’s ending just as the sun is due out.

Musilac music festival was held last weekend in Aix-les-Bains, and the crowd had that lovely festival feeling.

The usual weirdness of a festival, such as this rubber chicken on a stick that was waved around near the front of the stages for most of the day, was present, along with a few other notable things. The view from anywhere was glorious, ranging from the lake and boats to jagged mountains and rolling green slopes. For a change, a music festival had some geographical ambiance — a nice change from the usual converted farming fields. I wasn’t expecting fireworks between the acts, nor the crowd’s reaction, as if it were the first time they’d seen fireworks. The applause after the fireworks was longer than for half the acts on the day! The acts, although limited in number, were generally fantastic, and yet the French influence endured through the night, with a guy called Philippe Katerine taking to the stage after Eels, PJ Harvey and Chemical Brothers.

A photo just wouldn’t justify the weirdness. He appeared in a Tudor-style dress and said in French: “I am the queen of England. F**k you!”

After a few dodgy numbers, he stripped down to miniskirt with bi-colour tights and sung along with his four female backing ‘vocalists’ known as “les Katrinettes” — a parody of an old famous French singer (Claude François, who I’ll talk about another time) who had backing singers called the “Claudettes”. Bouncing boobs a requirement, they danced around and sang to songs including one entitled “Let me eat my banana”.
During that particular song, everything smelt of bananas. No, it wasn’t an artificial banana smell that filled the air: it was the real bananas being hurled towards the stage that were numerous enough to stink out the whole area. The singer stood on stage after the song, arms wide apart, inviting people to hit him with bananas. So many people had brought bananas with them! The (French part of the) crowd loved it.

If you’d like to see more photos from Musilac, Madamoiselle Caroline has plenty.

Before you study this photo, look at the logo for my blog. A beret-wearing cow with a curly moustache, holding wine and a baguette. It’s missing a bike and a stripy top, but it’s pretty stereotypical of the French. I did once see a man in a stripy top riding a bike with a baguette in his backpack, but only once. I’ve done a mean thing and embraced an unfair stereotype about the French.

Now, let me rewind a little. When I first arrived in France and spoke only English, the most I could explain to people was “Australian”, complete with full Aussie accent and a finger pointing back at myself. Those who finally figured it out would usually say “Ahh, kangourou” (because the French do spell it differently), and just in case I didn’t understand the exact same pronunciation, they would often mimic a kangaroo with their hands pulled up near their chest. I love this aspect of human nature, and I’ve used a variety of hand gestures to mimic various words I don’t know in French when trying to communicate.

However, none of those French people ever said “Ahh cactus” for a reason.

I can only guess that some French man with no moustache who doesn’t like bread, refuses to own a bike and prefers soft drink to wine whilst wearing only solid colours without lines has got his revenge on at least one nation who keeps the French stereotypes alive. I can hear him now: “Bof! Zeez or-strah-lianz sink zhey are so smart. I will make up a stupit stereotype about zhem.”

And so, here is an American native plant stuck next to a sign about kangaroos. Good work, Jean-Michele (or Jean-Paul, or Jean-Philippe or Jean-Pierre or whatever his double-barrelled name is). I, for one, deserve it.

La Clusaz has just ended nine days of horse competitions, named “Jump’In” which saw a whole lot of massive trucks and temporary stables take over the under-utilised Salon des Dames car park at the entrance of town. I know absolutely nothing about horses or the competitions, but I was impressed at just how high and daintily these well-groomed, heavy animals can jump. Before each competition starts, the riders are allowed onto the course to check out the jumps. As you can see from one of the photos I snapped, a black labrador also got to check out the jumps and nobody seemed to mind. The mountains behind the course provided a very scenic backdrop.

The last three days of the competition saw riders from all over the world compete, with an English-speaking commentator talking alongside the French one (a rarity in these parts). The weather was sunny and humid and I felt sorry for the riders and horses while I sat in the shade with my ice cream. I also felt sorry for the four riders who went down a narrow path littered with pedestrians — on Segways. Everyone just stared while they waited for the pedestrians to get off the pedestrian path so they could continue. Thankfully, they avoided entering the jumping arena, although that could have been quite amusing I guess…

This is how the green fields of the Paquier area of Annecy could have looked in seven years’ time had they won the 2018 Winter Olympics bid. However, favourite contenders Pyeongchang in South Korea won, leaving the Paquier full of a crowd of people who sighed and muttered before walking away, ending the party that had been happening all day in the lead-up to the winning bid announcement.

There was, however, one group who kept partying. They were the ones holding the placards protesting against the Annecy Olympics bid. I imagine they’ve all woken up with hangovers this morning.

Who knew that Segways were for mountain-loving thrill seekers? According to this brochure advertising their arrival to La Clusaz, a Segway can help you “attack the mountain”. I think I might have to agree with that: the weight of the Segway is surely going to do some damage to it at the very least, and possibly to the riders as they attempt to go “off-piste” for higher thrills. They will inevitably pop over the handlebars when they accidentally hit a rock in one of those cow fields they decided to shortcut through (if the able-bodied are lazy enough to get on a Segway, why would they go around a field?), safe in the knowledge that any poo would remain on the Segway instead of on themselves. Would it be wrong to imagine a couple of cows then coming up and attacking the toppled idiot and Segway with their horns?

Anyway, as the photo of our three cool dudes (complete with new gnarly finger-thumb coolness symbol) shows, this is for radical people who want to take their nature walks to the extremes they’ve only ever imagined! Here’s an idea: walk. Experience all those walks by actually moving your legs and feeling your muscles at the end of the day. I’m now imagining a Segway on the stupid walk I did last week, but I don’t see how it would get past the first road strewn with rocks, let alone the loose rocks at the top or the deep mud on the way back down. Let’s hope they make it to those cow fields extra fast.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, a 60-minute “walk” will cost €45, but it does guarantee an “intense pleasure”. I can think of better ways…