Le Franco Phoney

March isn’t usually a month that you associate with outdoor festivals in either hemisphere of the world, but around these parts, one has just come and gone and another one is on its way. The Radiomeuh Circus festival is on this weekend, with live acts and DJs galore, both on and off the piste. This online radio station has loyal and happy followers all around the globe. Just a handful will get the opportunity to come to the Radiomeuh Circus festival — including me! If there’s one way to warm up on and off the piste, it’s dancing, and I’m all for it, even in ski boots.

Last weekend was the Glisse en Coeur event in Le Grand Bornand. This involves a crazy 24-hour race on skis or snowboard by teams who take the chairlift up throughout the night to do more laps of the lit-up piste than any of the other teams. They raise money for a charity called ‘Les Puits du Désert‘ (‘Desert Wells’ – to help kids in Nigeria have access to clean water.) To encourage the teams, various French musicians, DJs and comedians performed on a stage right next to the course. The skiers ski between the stage and the crowd watching from behind the course’s barriers.

I’d love to have shown you some great photos of the night, but my SLR was out of action, and the Grand Bornand tourist office haven’t replied to my requests for some of the fantastic photos that they took. Highlights from the evening were seeing a yeti on skis doing laps, hearing French singer Christophe Mae warble to a somewhat massive crowd for these parts, and a break in the downpour of snow during the concert. Punters had to be careful not to fall over on the slippery entrances and exists to the watching area, and despite the very cold temperatures, beer was being downed in quantities typically seen at summer festivals (complete with gloved hands holding the cups).

The food was not quite typical festival food. The only option was buckwheat crepes (galettes) wrapped around a sausage. A Savoyarde/Brittany hot dog? Being a vegetarian, I had a delicious galette with BBQ sauce. At least it only cost 1€. The staff couldn’t keep up with demand, and the smoke from the BBQ was actually greater than the smoke coming from the stage. One thing is for sure, a festival in the French Alps is a very different festival experience.

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The cow bells are out in La Clusaz this weekend, with the FIS cross-country (ski du fond) world cup taking place in Les Confins.

Pictured are the front-runners of the men’s 15km race on their third lap of the course. The fourth and final lap ended in a photo finish, with Alexey Poltoranin from Kazakhstan beating Russia’s Alexander Bessmertnykh by just a few centimetres.

But the real highlights came before the finish line. First up were the wandering mascots, dancing to the music of the wandering minstrels, and being chased by the dog with the little doggy coat and doggy snow shoes (yes, they exist; yes, the protect the dog’s paws from the snow; no, the dog has no traction; yes, the dog slides all over the place).

The mascots posed for photos and made their way back to the Le Grand Bornand marquee — probably to refill on some vin chaud.

And here is where the mascots ended up. This was one of many groups from Le Grand Bornand who had dotted themselves around the cross-country race course.

Notice the huge casks of red wine in the bottom left corner. I think they were all emptied into that massive steel boiler with other bits and pieces to form a quick vin chaud. Judging by the loudness and activities coming from the marquee, the boiler was empty by the time the race began. The guy in grey had a megaphone and those thick, leather belts around some of the others’ waists have cow bells attached at the front. You can see one on the far left.

That guy was not just ringing the bell when the competitors passed. No. That guy was doing giant, drunken, pelvic thrusts to make the bell ring any time a girl went past. Others joined in. The people near the marquee looked on bemused or embarrassed.

But let’s get back to the action. Poor Callum Watson! He was trailing the pack towards the end of the first lap.

Callum was the only Australian competing in the race, and everybody seemed confused by the green outfit in a field of reds, blues, whites and blacks. Who was this person? One person near me said “He must be the Australian” after hearing me yell “Go Aussie” as he went by. Others shrugged. A few people clapped.

For me, it was an odd experience. Us Aussies are normally successful at sports, but snow sports aren’t quite as accessible in Australia, making our champions few and far between. Callum was trailing behind the pack and was clearly in last place. If this event had been in Australia, those around me would have been clapping and cheering on every single competitor, regardless of where they’re from or their place in the race. In fact, the further behind, the louder the cheer!

Callum was cheered on when he rounded the popular corners, but most of the spectators elsewhere just watched. A couple of people around me gave him an encouraging clap, and I shouted encouragement each time he went past, but the air was uncomfortably silent. I wonder if the lack of enthusiasm that us Aussies are used to receiving hampered his race. He only completed two of the four laps.

Meanwhile, Ivan Perrillat Boiteux had an entire field of snow devoted to him. As you may have guessed by the name, Ivan is pretty much a local. His home town is Annecy, and he’s a member of the Le Grand Bornand cross-country ski team. Today, people had photos of him printed on their t-shirts, and his name written on their skin and their cow bells. Everyone was banking on Ivan. Ivan came 55th out of the 69 men who finished the race. Bigger love hearts required next time. I might make a few for Callum too.

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Ever wanted to turn your old camper into a cow? Someone in Le Grand Bornand here in the Aravis 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 great 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 the French village of Thônes to advertise last weekend’s Fête de l’Alpage (cow fields fete) in Le Grand Bornand, which, as you can see from the photo, involved Reblochon cheese and probably a lot of cows. I missed it, 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.

How do you make Reblochon cheese? Well, that’s still a bit of a mystery to me, thanks to a rather odd night in Le Grand Bornand to learn more about it. The lovely people who run the resort put on a display of cheesemaking last week for the tourists — in a nice, warm tent-like structure, complete with seats for the audience and a little stage for the cheesemakers. So why is it still a mystery? Presuming my French is good enough to understand the guy with the microphone, I’d also need to be standing right next to the speaker to hear him, thanks to the crowd of locals (the musicians waiting to play after, staff ready to serve meals to those willing to pay for a plastic tray of steaming sausage, mushy stuff and cheese after the cheesemaking display, and friends catching up) who were hanging around the bar.

The kids at the tables just wanted some food and the adults looked bored, but we were all entertained when a piste basher trundled past outside, overpowering the noise created by the bar flies as well as the man on stage, who hammered on regardless. People tried to turn their attention back to the stage on its second zoom past the window. Why was a piste basher going past? Because the cheese tasting was not in the centre of town as expected, but further away at some place that was announced on a sign in the centre of town, but without directions or a map to show where it was. We circled the resort like a police helicopter before eventually finding some lights and a big tent by the cross country piste. It seems that nobody co-ordinated the half-hour demonstration with the piste basher staff. For me, it was a bonus anyway, since I couldn’t hear what the guy on stage was saying anyway. Cheesy entertainment indeed!

Yes, there’s a brand of ski called Heidi Ski and they come from Switzerland. I tried some out at last weekend’s ski test held in Le Grand Bornand just up the road and I was really impressed. Despite the off-piste model being only 80mm across the centre, these babies floated nicely and with such a narrow waist, turned off piste like no other pair of ski I tried all day. I should point out, however, that I’d never really skied off-piste before – that’s what I’ve used my snowboard for. This year was going to be the year, and Heidi Ski were looking like my ski of choice. Aren’t the graphics lovely too? You don’t want to buy a pair of skis with horrible graphics, do you. I remember once asking a snowboard instructor friend what my next snowboard should be and his reply was: “The one with the nicest graphics,” so I’m pretty sure it’s not just me that looks at the graphics as well as the performance of the ski.

Other favourites were the Dynastar Legend Sultan 80s for on the piste (I’m pleased about this, as I’ve bought a pair to use for telemarking which I’m still learning how to do), Movement Black Rose for both on-piste and off-piste (and lovely sparkly-in-sun purpleness), and the Salomon S7s fo, r off-piste (although sadly I’m not that good off-piste yet to use them the way they deserve), but I came home and Googled Heidi Ski. I wanted a pair of Heidi Skis…until I saw the price. There’s no way I can afford those beauties no matter how lovely they were, and so the hunt for a new pair of skis continues.

Apologies if this post sounded a bit “me me me”: the beautiful snow of the French Alps is what motivated me to live in France in the first place. I’m passionate about the snow and winter sports, so sometimes I can’t help myself but write about it all. Back to French observations next time.

So, a few weeks ago, I challenged my readers to travel in their own backyard. I took my own advice on the weekend and managed to visit something in La Clusaz, Le Grand Bornand and Annecy all in one day. In La Clusaz, some moto trials were taking place, and I snapped the photo below. The precision was amazing.

Meanwhile, in Le Grand Bornand, the local fire station was open. I thought it might be interesting, but I was scared off by all the pompier (fireman) recruitment advertisements on posters and a big television screen. As I scurried past without stepping in, I noticed these fire engines (pictured) open for people to check out. Mostly, this involved kids tooting the horns while their dads grabbed a beer at the beer tent. In fact, do you see the blue tent in the photo above? Booze tent. It seems that all sorts of events — from sporting to family — understand the importance of a beer tent. Fair enough: people get thirsty, but the fire station was holding an open morning. People were boozing on even before midday struck! It was a warm day so I guess the thirst excuse might cut it.

It was so warm, in fact, that I headed down to Annecy to test out a long board at the Fete du Nautisme, where all sorts of manual water-floating transport was available to try. This is the sport that, I’m told, Jennifer Anniston loves for keeping in shape, and who am I to deny her that right? I can see how it’s a leg workout, with my legs wobbling with the waves under the board I was standing on, but the real workout came for my arms, with lots of paddling to get anywhere on such a big board. I enjoyed it for the tranquility and the acceptable risk of falling in the cold water if I lost my balance (which I didn’t!). Lots of fun, and no beer tent in sight. This could be another sport to add to the list.

So, what have you seen in your backyard in the past few weeks?

Wandering through Le Grand Bornand the other day, I came across this art installation (click on the image for a bigger version) by Miguel Chevalier. The image shows just half the room of digital snowflakes, projected on three walls of a darkened room, and apparently interactive. Interactive? Yes, well, apparently. The information plaque says that the more movement and people there are in the room, the more active and numerous the snowflakes. A friend and I tested the activity scale by running in circles and waving our arms around in a darkened room (much to the surprise of others in the room). We had some success in making a snowflake twirl in reverse and much faster than previously, but that’s all we could muster.

We sat for some time prior to that, watching all sorts of snowflakes form, drift, enlarge, blur and disappear. This is enjoyable art!

Little did I know, it’s actually just one of many other art installations around the Aravis region that I’ve noticed but haven’t paid much attention to — and they’re here until August. I hadn’t realised that the ice rink in La Clusaz, which now has various colours painted under the ice, is one of those installations. Nor did I realise, way back at Christmas time when I drove along the valley opposite Dingy St Clair, that the giant red bulbs hanging hundreds of metres down an invisible-at-night rock face were more than just a Christmas decoration. They looked like lights dangling from the ski they were so high up, and so seemingly unattached to anything but the darkness. I haven’t seen it up there since and I presumed the police had arranged its removal because it was dangerous for drivers, who might divert their attention from the road to the strange red lights dangling from the heavens!

So, here in St Jean de Sixt, what do we have? Artisinal artwork, according to the Aravis art installation website. I’ve yet to see any of it, but apparently, the local baker has made a tree out of baked pastry goods.

Monday was the first day of the French ski instructors’ week-long competition. “ESF” stands for Ecole du Ski Français (French ski school), and their outfit, as seen on the roundabout here in St Jean de Sixt, is red. A friend and I drove to Chinaillon — part of the Le Grand Bornand ski resort — where all the action was happening, but we discovered a bit of action on the way there. As we drove through town in my very old Golf cabriolet, people in red outfits were everywhere, and while we stopped to let some walk across a pedestrian crossing, one yelled out in French: “Oh, a convertible! Here, I’ll just put my skis in the back.” Thankfully, before he could do so, the other instructors had cleared the pedestrian crossing and we were on our way.

In Chinaillon, the red outfits outnumbered the rest of us. We sat at a café at the bottom of the pistes to watch the entertainment. We couldn’t see the races, but lots of instructors had taken advantage of the pub further up, and they found some innovative ways to get to the bottom of the piste. One sipped his drink while flying past at high speed, as if relaxing on a sunlounger rather than bouncing down the lumpy piste. Many others had empty plastic beer cups hanging around their necks. One instructor skied over some skis laying on the snow, left by one of the other café customers who either didn’t see or didn’t mind, and then a couple of ESF cowboys skied past, complete with fake guns, cowboy hats and gingham shirts. One poor instructor tried to get a lift down on the back of his mate’s skis, but he skied off too quickly and the instructor slid down skate-style in just his ski boots. Funniest of all was the instructor piggy-backing another instructor. It was going really well until he had to slow down, and then there was a crash, a tumble and lots of laughter.

On the way home, we passed the decorated roundabout in St Jean de Sixt, which has changed a few times already. On Monday morning, a policeman mannequin was arresting a ski instructor while the other three ski instructor mannequins (pictured in last weekend’s photo) continued to ski down their plastic slope. By Monday afternoon, the policeman was gone and a ski instructor mannequin was installed on the roof of the little roundabout house — complete with his competitor number on his bib. Can you guess what the number was? If you guessed higher than 68 and lower than 70, you’d be spot on.

Hooray! After months of no action on the St Jean de Sixt roundabout, we finally have some mannequin action! They used to change so regularly, but I think this is the first time this winter that they’ve come out. Where else in the world would you find a roundabout with French ski school instructor outfits on it? There’s even a white ski slope, skis, poles goggles and hats, and a judge mannequin in the background. Why the judge? Read on.

The judge is there because these mannequins represent the French ski school version of a nativity scene. Each year, around 3000 members of the French ski school compete against each other in all sorts of snow-based competitions, and this year Le Grand Bornand are holding it for the second time in the competition’s sixty-year history. It’s a bit of an honour for ski resort really, and that’s why the roundabout has been decorated for the event. The judge shown on the roundabout could be judging anything from a boarder cross competition, to downhill skiing. This covers all their disciplines, so telemarking, cross-country skiing, and even freestyle competitions are included. More info, in French, here.

Apart from the competitions, there is loads of entertainment, and I’m pleased to see that the Radio Meuh DJs will be pumping out some grooves between the other DJs, bands, booze and cheese tastings on offer for free. So, thank you, St Jean de Sixt roundabout, for alerting me to the festivities of next week, which may have otherwise passed me by.

French imagery in advertising, roundabouts and even pizza boxes is something I’ve discussed many times on this blog, but this image is the most provocative I’ve seen in a public place. Apologies for the lack of quality: I took the picture temporarily on my phone a few days ago and the poster has since disappeared.

So, here we have a poster for the Lalu nightclub in Le Grand Bornand, featuring smurfs (called ‘schtroumpfs’ in French). I remember Papa Smurf there in the red, and Lady Smurf is of course the woman next to him. The post says ‘Smurf me’ in French (they’ve made ‘smurf’ into a verb), so I guess it’s a party where people dress up as smurfs. And what is that smurf doing below that, with the scissors and the comb? Is that hay being taken away? No. Look more carefully, and if you’re pre-teen, just skip the rest of this entry: it will only add to the teenage angst that you’re destined for.

I’d say to look closely, but you don’t really need to. Can you see anything amiss in this poster? Anything slightly wrong, considering the poster was placed at the height of a kid’s eyes? That’s not hay that the smurf is carting off. It’s pubic hair. That’s not a hill with a house in the distance, it’s a breast. As you can now see, there isn’t much left up to the imagination in this poster.

Admittedly, I stared at this poster, pointed out to me by my friend, for a good minute or so without noticing anything odd. If this poster was in the nightclub itself, I wouldn’t even blink an eye; but it was placed outside the lift ticket office in Le Grand Bornand, right by the ski stand, where parents tell kids to wait with the skis, and as I mentioned, right at kid height, with all these cute, lovable smurfs on display to attracts kids’ attention. Perhaps most kids just overlook this for the love of smurfs the way I did. Still, could any other country be so open to Hairdresser Smurf giving a human an alternative Brazilian? And is that really how you make a human into a smurf? I reckon Painter Smurf with his can of blue paint would have a strong opinion about that.

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