Le Franco Phoney

The other day in Annecy, I was sitting by the lake and watching some ducks. I was also watching three boys wading through the shallow water throwing something at the ducks. At first, I thought it was food. They were throwing stones. Aware that a large stone could severely injure or kill a duck, I looked around for the kids’ parents and hoped they would notice what the kids were doing.

If I had been in an English-speaking country, I wouldn’t have waited, but that’s the thing about learning a foreign language: the nuances make all the difference. Even if my French is word perfect, how do I convey the right amount of sternness in my tone? How do I pick the words that convey the sentiments. In our brains, our mother language thesaurus started growing when we were babies, but my French language thesaurus only began around five years ago. The appropriate words might not be the ones I’m really looking for. And on top of all that, what do I do if the kids yell something back at me that I don’t understand?

As I sat there wondering why it was taking me so long to react, I realised I was scared. Confrontation doesn’t really bother me, but in another language — and with kids who are already being naughty — it made me hesitate. But what’s more important? Me looking like a fool by saying the wrong thing in my second language (and that wouldn’t be the first time), or trying to stop ducks getting maimed or killed? I walked over and told the kids off, wondering why I’d chosen ‘tu‘ (used for kids or those you know well) instead of ‘vous‘ (used for plural, even when kids) to tell them off. I explained in dodgy French what might happen if they hit a duck and told them to stop. They replied in perfect French and I walked away.

Did they stop? No. As I turned back to check, one held a stone ready to throw. He saw me and put his arm back down. Then I heard one of them say: ‘It was him’ in English and I realised they were English kids. Damn! I could have told them off in perfectly good English, with all those well-picked words and correct intonations and so much less effort! A quick look around led me directly to the boys’ mother, who I know, and the kids finally stopped throwing stones.

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I know you were all panicking about the cows going up the hill in September, so I wanted to let you know that this week, the same cows descended. The warm weather allowed them to graze in the field just up the road one last time before heading down the valley to lower fields and eventually into a shed for winter. Welcome to October in the Aravis. How do I know they were the same cows that I mentioned in September? By the bells.

Hearing the clanging of the bells coming down the road gave me plenty of time to grab a camera and get a close-up of a bell. This one has the Savoyarde flag with studs representing the white cross (le croix de Savoie). Below the flag is Bambi! Okay, maybe the craftsman had a particular type of deer in mind — no doubt the ones that I sometimes see at night around these parts — but when I see them, I say “Oh there’s Bambi”. This also works with any large-winged bird for me (“Look, an eagle.”), even if it’s an owl.

The Bambi thing all started in a bubble/télécabine/gondola in Méribel one day, when some Italians said something to me in Italian and pointed down. Realising I didn’t speak Italian, they said “Bambi” and pointed to a brown, horned thing below. For a moment, we all spoke the same language. A few days later, a Bambi was below the same lift, so I used the same word to point it out to the French people sharing the bubble with me. For a moment, we too spoke the same language even though I knew no French back then. Bambi allowed us to share an experience that we otherwise would have missed.

The cows, however, need no such international word. The clanging bells announce their arrival without any tourists pointing and calling them Bambi. Pity.

Lots of people think Chamonix is the bee’s knees when it comes to skiing. I’m not one of them simply because I haven’t skied there enough to decide. However, it’s a pretty amazing place in all seasons. Pictured is the view from the rack and pinion train that takes passengers up to la Mer de Glace and back down to town. Chamonix town is nestled in a valley between two massively high mountain ranges. From town, you can see the Aiguille du Midi and the two cable cars to transport people there, and if you look in the other direction, you can see the huge cable car that transports people between two high peaks on the Brévant side. Add in the various trains and car routes and Chamonix provides some of the most picturesque views of nature I’ve ever seen.
Meanwhile, up at la Mar de Glace, there’s more to do than visit the ice cave. The Grand Hotel du Montenvers, built in 1880, is open for meals, drinks and overnight stays, and it even has a museum of history and miniature railways inside. There are loads of walking routes of varying lengths, including one that takes you back down to Chamonix, and if you don’t see any real animals on your walk at the top, you can always pop into the museum of stuffed dead animals ranging from little marmots to large birds. The views from the train are fantastic and this photo just doesn’t do it justice. Chamonix is currently one of my favourite places in France.