Le Franco Phoney

Last weekend, I returned to my old home of Méribel for a wedding and discovered a new roundabout since my last visit. Viewed from behind (as pictured, right), the carved mountaineer is overlooking the Méribel valley with a couple of animals carved around him.

At first, I had been impressed by the mountaineer’s beautifully carved face, hands and sock detail (as pictured below – slightly blurry as we weren’t able to stop), but after demanding my friend circle the roundabout so I could snap photos from different angles , the view from the back was even better.

In all my seasons of living in Méribel valley, I’d never taken much notice of the view from this part of the road, but the wooden mountaineer’s gaze frames the scene perfectly. Sadly, the enormity of the mountains from this spot just isn’t reflected in the photo.

Méribel ski resort is renowned for its wooden chalets, and the heart logo of the village is carved in the balconies of many of the buildings in town and beyond. The use of wood on this roundabout fits well with the woody buildings just up the road, but the beauty of the carvings is far greater than the collection of chalets, which is why I think the view from behind is so much more impressive than from the front: the nature surrounding the roundabout enhances the carvings’ charm.

So, who is this man? I can only presume it’s Scotsman Peter Lindsey, an interesting guy who started investing in the valley before World War 2, and later bought much of the land that the village now sits on, and developed the valley into a ski resort before selling it back to the locals. In fact, he’s partly responsible for the use of wood cladding, stone structures and slate roofs in the local buildings. Even if it’s not him, I’m naming that statue Pete.

Ever wanted to turn your old camper into a cow? Someone in Le Grand Bornand can help you. Although the eyes suggest the cow has been on the whacky tobaccy, the rest is in order, with a decent set of horns, four legs, an udder, a lovely tail hanging out the back, and a lovely big mouth and tongue chewing some hay. There’s even a tag on the ear.

The cow van has been on the hill up from Thônes to advertise last weekend’s Fête de l’Alpage (cow fields fete), which, as you can see from the photo, involved Reblochon cheese and probably a lot of cows. I missed it accidentally, but I’m not sure the fete could have been any better than the advertisement for the fete. In fact, I reckon I would have been let down if I’d gone and there were no other innovative cow art installations to take photos of. I’m looking forward to next year’s advertisement.

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.

At first, you might not notice anything missing from this photo, but if you were walking past it regularly, you’d notice the absence of the mannequins. I’ve written about them lots of times, but they’ve been missing for a few weeks now, and there’s a good reason. The man responsible for the mannequin scenes, George Davy, passed away a few weeks ago. He was allowed to add his mannequins on this plot of land instead of the roundabout (for purported health and safety reasons of crossing onto the roundabout from the road). Apparently, he cheekily extended the area little-by-little, leaving some of the villagers less than impressed. However, the turnout for his funeral was large, and I’m sure that both he and his scenes will be missed. Nobody seems to know what will happen to his little plot of mannequin land, but it looks like its short era has come to an end. RIP, George Davy, and thanks for bringing a bit of fun to St Jean de Sixt.

This stencil graffiti has started appearing around the Aravis. So far, I’ve seen it here, on the road between Thônes and St Jean de Sixt in the village of Les Villards sûr Thônes, as well as on the outskirts of St Jean heading up to La Clusaz, and down on the back road between Thônes and Annecy. It’s probably in some other places I haven’t noticed too. I have no idea what it’s meant to mean or who it’s supposed to be, but for a region that doesn’t have a huge graffiti problem, it’s at least something better than the average tagging of road signs. What do you think?

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.

Is this not something you’d find in a jigsaw puzzle? I live near it. The close-up with my terrible photography skills does not do this beautiful chalet the justice it deserves. How many flowers can exist on one wall? Walking past this place brings joy to people’s faces and always brightens my day even when the weather isn’t as sunny as it was on the morning that I took this photo. The flowers on the balcony are amazing, but I love the little touches, like the wheelbarrow full of flowers in the yard, and various ornamental pots that were once used as machinery parts dotted around the doors of the house.Every window and shutter has flowers; the wall has climbers; the steps down from the front of the property is lined with flowering pots of goodness.,

In this zoomed-out image, you can see that the detail extends right to the end of the property, with well-maintained flowers and bushes in colours that compliment each other nicely. Something less man-made is the sky: it’s that postcard blue colour that I always presumed was captured with a filter or Photoshop, but here it is in one of my standard, dodgy photos taken without a tripod. Since moving to the Alps, I’ve noticed that the sky is often that fake colour that I’d seen in postcards. Who ever thought it was real? I’m pleased to have captured it in a photo as evidence of its existence!

Back to the jigsaw puzzle question. Is this not a jigsaw-puzzle-picture-worthy house? If I were a better photographer, I’d knock on the door and ask if I could take some photos…maybe stick a few people relaxing on the grass or kids playing with a bat and ball or something, then send the photo off to wherever jigsaw puzzle pictures go and hope to see it in the shops. I’d buy it. Wouldn’t you?

I went for a walk the other morning and found a mannequin being serenaded by another mannequin. I stopped to have a look at the silent scene and drank in the detail. As you can see from the photo below, the mannequin on the ladder is holding a real guitar. But wait, there’s more.

Apart from the girl on the balcony being serenaded, there’s a newly-married couple of mannequins behind the pretty little chalet with all those lovely, well-maintained flowers. The bride seems to have no hair or face, but the groom is decked out well with a top hat and a scarf around his neck. But wait, there’s more. A baby is sitting with a woman who, let’s face it, is dressed in much the same way as the baby. Who knows why the baby is propped on a log or why there’s a married couple with a bald bride in amongst the serenading couple’s scene. I just love the randomness of the scenes that regularly appear in this cluster of gardens and buildings.

And it’s great to know that the scene-setter has not given up; during the summer holidays, some of the mannequins were vandalised. They were placed head first in a water tank with their legs sticking out. Maybe this is why the bride’s face is blank — her features washed away by water. In a wave of crime the same weekend, some number plates were stolen and some houses, including mine, were strawberried. Someone threw strawberries at houses, causing no damage but a lovely smell. I’m pleased that even when vandalism does strike here in St Jean de Sixt, it’s not on the scale of what I’ve seen in the cities I’ve lived in.

Anyway, the little chalet pictured is no doubt just a storage shed. Is this not the most ornate and well-decorated storage shed that has ever existed? May the mannequins and flowers continue.

On a walk through St Jean de Sixt yesterday, I noticed the garden scene below. Something’s a bit NQR (Not Quite Right), right? That’s not a real person! That’s not a real café either. The donkey is only two-dimensional. And, in fact, that’s a fake house there in the background. Let me explain.

These are just some of the props that used to grace the St Jean de Sixt roundabout at different times of the year. The guy who used to put the mannequins on the roundabout together with the corresponding props is obviously missing his roundabout antics, and is now turning his attentions to creating scenes away from the roundabout, closer to his house.

I had walked past a week earlier one evening and I saw a scene full of life — minus the actual life. The red mannequin dude in the background hadn’t moved, but there were chairs and tables populated by mannequins (including the one with the hat right in front of the camera, watching the scene from a distance while he was gardening at night). Apparently, mannequins party at night.

It might sound silly, but it’s a real treat to walk past this area in St Jean and watch the scene change over time. Security cameras and fences aren’t needed here, and that’s what I truly love. The mannequins have not been undressed, the donkey has not been turned upside down or stolen, and the fake café has no graffiti. I heart rural living.

It’s that time of year again, when movie buffs, media students and animation geeks from all over the world swarm to Annecy for the week-long International Annecy Animation Film Festival. This year, the fashion seems to be badges on bags, although I did see one guy sporting his badges all over his jeans. Yes, his jeans were entirely covered in badges.

The festival is great fun, with outdoor freebie screenings most nights of the week, and lots of animation styles to keep everyone happy. I favour the shorts: a movie-length screening of around six or more short animations. That ten minutes or so when people are entering the cinema involves more than just a hum of chatter: it’s an opportunity to throw lots of paper planes. So, on top of walking up stairs while scanning the rows of people for a few empty seats, you also need to dodge the papers zooming around the room. Long paper plane flights get a round of applause and a cheer! I saw one guy last night collecting as many as he could from the aisle beside him to relaunch, while the guy in front of me ripped off another sheet from his notebook to start folding another plane.

In fact, the planes are so common at the festival, that they’re an integral part of this year’s animated trailer for the festival, which you can watch below (and yes, that’s the actual cinema at the end).

Thankfully, the planes stop flying as soon as the first animation starts. However, between animations, the “done thing” is to make a popping sound with your mouth. You know, when you were a kid and you’d stick a finger inside your mouth near your cheek, then flick it out to make a pop? That’s the sound that gets made between movies. This is a whole separate set of cultural norms that seem to exist in Annecy purely for the animation festival.

I guess it was nice to escape some aspects of French culture for the evening, but by the time I left that cinema, I was looking forward to a crepe and seeing men in stripy shirts and berets riding bikes with baguettes under their arms and saying “ooh la la” a lot to the background sounds of a piano accordion.