In order to be truly Alpin (al-pahn: Alpine) in France, you must do one of two things: you must spend each weekend in the snow-covered mountains skiing and drinking hot chocolate, and you also must spend the rest of the chilly nights de la semaine (duh la sehm-en: of the week) eating Raclette and other cheesy dishes. This weekend, I couldn't exactly truly call myself Alpine (al-peen: a girl of the Alps), but at least I had a small taste of what it must feel like to be fabulous and French.
Saturday--in a reunion with my old colocataires (ko-lok-ah-tehr: flatmates) from La Côte Saint André and a "new-old" friend from Bristol--I dined on raclette, fondue's lesser-known, lesser-appreciated, but just-as-extravagant cousin. This regional dish can be served in different ways, but the general gist is always the same: you take a burner and place a wheel of raclette cheese on in, wait for it to melt, then scoop it over warm baby potatoes, bread, raw vegetables, and assorted salami and pieces of pig. Best served on a chilly day with a side of warm mulled white wine.
After my stomach begged for mercy from too much cheese and potatoes, I woke up the next morning sacrilegiously early to head up to le Vercors (luh ver-core) yet another time, not to ski sadly but to do something that takes quite a bit less practice: raquettes (rack-ett: snowshoes). Snowshoes are monstrosities placed over your real shoes, tied with several different confusing straps and clips, accompanied with walking sticks with the effect of making you seem to glide over four feet of freshly fallen snow. They really seem silly at first, but without them you'd have no hope of walking around les Alpes (lez ahl-p: the Alps) without slipping on your butt (as I did today sans snowshoes) and sinking into the snow with every step you took. The gorgeous winter mountain views were absolutely worth feeling like I had suddenly grown feet the size of Bigfoot .
After delving into the inner workings of life in the French Alpes a bit this weekend, I have to say the best part of it all was, when stopping to orientate ourselves with the map while raquetting, a 70 year-old woman in cross-country skis and Chanel sunglasses sped past us with the greatest of ease. Note to self: must become more like old French women.
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Sounds like such a fun trip! Drinking hot cholocate and eating great food in the French Alps sounds like an experience of a lifetime. I would sure be one of those to slip on butt all the time, but you know me ; )
ReplyDeleteLove, love the "Raclettes et Raquettes". Very creative and original. And of course, as always, your amazing writing. It is such a joy to read.
I love you.