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.

Last week, I returned to England for a few days of work mingled with a few days in London and Cambridge to catch up with friends. Opposite the Turnham Green tube station is this Chinese restaurant — with its name slightly altered for the worse. Obviously someone’s idea of a joke, I wonder how long the sign has been like this and how much longer it will remain.

London done, I headed to Cambridge, where I was greeted by pirates, adults in nappies (giant babies) and a whole variety of other costumes as part of the Chinese boat races held for charity last weekend.

Pictured are the pirates and some men dressed as women. It’s always amusing to see men decorate themselves as their idea of a female: a 1960s housewife, complete with a dodgy dress and a scarf over their hair seems to be the norm.

I don’t remember ever seeing a woman dressed like this, but top points to them for making themselves as dowdy as possible, then adding the biggest pairs of boobs that will fit in their dresses, as if to counteract the frumpiness.

The next day, a restaurant just outside of Cambridge provided a laugh for us all when we went to the toilets. The walls and doors were made of frosted opaque glass, although outlines were still possible to see if someone was close enough to the glass. Out in the communal hand-washing area, a toilet seat was raised off the ground as a bin for hand towels. The thought that this (hopefully repainted and thoroughly disinfected) throne probably started life collecting a different type of waste made me shudder as I opened the lid to place my hand towel inside.

Thankfully, my trip returned to happiness with some cupcake goodness. Friends of mine in France go on about how lovely those French chocolate ‘cake’ slices — made up of layers of mousse and pastry and something sweet and crispy — taste, but I’d prefer a cupcake any day, and I’ve yet to see any decent ones here in the Aravis region of France. So, I made the most of it, sampling both the lemonade cupcakes and the chocolate cupcakes offered by FireFly Cakes which provided me with the sugary-soft and moist sponge I’ve been missing. I’m having cake envy just thinking about them now. They all went within the day.

Yesterday, I was swimming in the pools pictured below. What heaven eh? What you’re looking at is a very large pool filled with hot spring water, and a smaller pool more suitable for doing laps. The big pool has a snail shell-shaped whirlpool, bubble jets under shallow seats, a big mushroom spilling water over the edges, sprays of water from pipes (ouch), and whole areas of bubbles under foot. All around are mountains and sunshine. What’s not to love?

I enjoyed the novelty and even emptied a bucket of cold water on myself after fifteen minutes in the Swedish sauna area. However, a two-day break of pampering spa time and treatments just isn’t for me. Don’t get me wrong, Les Bains de Lavey in Switzerland is a beautiful thermal spa with a very high standard of customer service, a wide choice of beauty treatments, and a lavish hotel with everything you’d expect, but I just couldn’t relax. Why? Because I’m not comfortable with nakedness in front of strangers. I struggle getting naked in front of the doctor.

Day One of my ‘Wellness’ package involved wearing just a paper thong and trying to gracefully get into a giant spa bath of water while the attendant watched. Once the spa time was over, there was the salt rub. Refreshing, sure, but lying for twenty minutes wrapped in plastic and a blanket is not my idea of relaxing, despite the calming music. I felt like I was in a body bag. Itches couldn’t be scratched and I was bored. Once unwrapped, the attendant watched me ungracefully dismount the table to rinse away the salt. I’m comfortable with my body, but I’m not comfortable parading in front of strangers covered in salt and a paper thong.

And then it got much worse. I had added a massage to my package and was greeted by a hunky young French man who, as he massaged my upper leg, told me to “let it go”. I said I was finding it difficult to relax. He suggested too much stress (nope), too much work (nope), and then in jest suggested not enough massages. Wrong again, young hunk. I couldn’t relax because I knew he’d soon be turning me over and seeing my paper-thonged body from the front while rubbing oil on my chest. Of course, to save my modesty, he had placed a towel over me at the start of the massage, which he held up above his eyes while I turned over half way through, then placed back down on me. But the towel doesn’t stay on. Why bother with the towel? He used it to cover my legs while he exposed my upper body and vice versa. Did I enjoy the massage? Kind of, but not really.

Day Two involved getting naked in front of the same attendant from Day One and some weird bath cocoon that sprayed hot water from above and underneath. I was covered in cocoa butter at the time, and was later slathered with mud by the same woman, then left wrapped up once more. No doubt many people love this, but it just wasn’t for me. Thankfully, the reflexology session later that day involved taking off my sandals only. Relief.

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.

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.

I was in Sweden last week to visit a friend. She showed me around her hometown of Stockholm and I couldn’t help but compare Sweden with France. Although the hut pictured is similar to the one I took in Switzerland last month, the feet are really unusual and like nothing I’ve seen in any other country. In the background is the city of Stockholm, merely a narrow stretch of water away. Stockholm is made up of a number of islands, and this hut was on the island that houses the Djurgården (a mini animal sanctuary, with antique farm houses and other traditional things), which overlooks the islands with the city centre and the old town, amongst others. I’m impressed that a city can have so much greenery so close to the centre of town.

One big difference is the options available for vegetarians. Of course, I’m comparing a capital city with the French Alps, but I’m not sure even Paris has vegie sausages available for takeaway (as pictured, mixed with mashed potato, salad and sauce). Gone are the tuts from meat eaters, replaced with a smile from the Swedish man who cooked the vegie sausages on a separate grill free of meat. Luxury!

But a lot of things are the same. Raclette, for example. Okay, there was an international food fair on in town, but still, my Swedish friend had just finished telling me that Raclette is not available in Stockholm, and there it was less than 24 hours later, luring people in with its description in English. If you’re interested, it cost about €6 for a plate of the cheesy goodness.

I was amused to see that France isn’t the only country with symbols that need some explanation. Pictured here are some train symbols. The first one could be misconstrued entirely (a gap between the train and the platform), and the second one just screams “No drunken disco dancing”, but it is, of course, remember not to get your hand stuck in the door when the automatic doors close.

Best of all was this chocolate bar called Plopp. Sometimes, in France, I see French words that are amusing when they mean something else in English (almost like “sucre daddy“, but not quite). With Swedish people apparently more fluent in English, I was surprised to see this chocolate bar. Not only does it sound like a excrement, but it kind of resembles the shape and colour too. Thankfully, with a caramel centre, it tasted much better than that.

My quick jaunt to London last week ended in a visit to the Titanic exhibition at the O2 Arena. It’s such a relief to see an exhibition in my native tongue of English: I don’t miss out on half the stories through not knowing a couple of words, which is often the case when I’m trying to read exhibition notes in French. I took the opportunity to drink in every single piece of written English — something I’m sure I wouldn’t have consciously done years ago. Doing so proved worthwhile because I read stories about passengers aboard the ill-faited ocean liner that years earlier I probably would have walked past to get to the next object display.

The artifacts themselves were fascinating thanks to the stories behind them being explained so well. Some tiny perfume bottles were recovered from the wreckage intact (and left open in a glass box with holes so we could smell their contents): their owner was a perfume dealer trying to make his fortune in America. Lots of other artifacts were just as interesting, and the personal stories were heartwarming and saddening at the same time. A piece of the boat’s metal could be touched, as well as a wall of ice to help us understand why so many who survived the initial sinking then died due to the freezing temperature of the salt water.

Sometimes, however, it’s probably better not to understand all the words. Apart from being given a boarding pass complete with a real passenger’s name on the back (you could check the board at the end to see if your passenger survived: mine did but my friend’s did not), the gift shop at the end of the exhibition just seemed to be cashing in on dead people. Okay, you could say the whole exhibition was doing that, but at least it was educational. There was no way I was going to buy a book of recipes served on the Titanic, nor would I relish eating a meal from it. Maybe that’s just me?

One way to cross the road in France is via the Téléphérique du Salève — a cable car that crosses a major highway to take paragliders and sightseers to the top of a cliff.

I get nervous enough in these contraptions when there’s merely a bit of snow beneath them, but this has a road full of fast cars and trucks zooming underneath, and climbs a cliff so high that there’s a huge drop between the cable and the ground. Pictured is the lowest part of the cable car, which ends right next to the road. Quadruple the height to the left and you might get close to the arrival bay.

I’ll probably give this adventure a miss, but if you’re in the area and want to check it out, it’s on the A40 autoroute, just south of the border into Switzerland.

In France, schools tend to teach French grammar and language right through to the end of secondary school. It’s a complicated language so this doesn’t surprise me. What has surprised me is seeing this advertisement for a duty free shop in England with graffiti to correct the poor grammar. Actually, the Oxford Dictionary says “compared to” is interchangeable these days, but even my boss is a stickler for “compared with”, and at least one other person agrees with him.

Whilst most graffiti writers struggle to spell correctly (as pointed out by Crap Graffiti), here we have the opposite: someone angry that the rule of grammar they probably learnt at school has not been adhered to. So, big points to the English(?) person who made this correction, whether the Oxford Dictionary agrees with you or not.

In Queensland, some houses are built off the ground, on stilts. This allows for a breeze to cool down the houses, and every degree helps in such a tropical place. So why on earth are there so many huts in Zermatt that are raised off the ground? Being 1,620 metres from sea level and miles from the equator, Zermatt doesn’t really have a reputation as a tropical haven, yet these huts are dotted around town like ants outside their nest.

A local explained all. The huts are used to store animal feed and sometimes animals during the cold months. One hut we saw had sheep wool hanging out its open slat windows and the local said the sheep had been in there until recently. But that doesn’t explain why the huts are raised off the ground. Apparently, Zermatt has had a rodent problem, so the huts were built off the ground — and often with stone at the base — to prevent the rodents from climbing up into the sheds that stored feed and eating it. The huts are still used to store feed to this day, so they’re obviously doing their job well.

Others have told me that the gap allows snow underneath, for insulation or in case of avalanche, but I don’t see how a hut would survive an avalanche, and I’m not convinced that the ground is any less insulating than a layer of snow. The internet is proving very unhelpful in finding out any more, so please do let me know if I’ve got this all wrong.