“I hope you have a relatively stress-free, non-threatening day.”

Back in 1989, shortly after I moved from New Jersey to California, a friend sent me a card with this sentiment.  I’ve kept it all these years and it’s become one of my favorite expressions.  Don’t get me wrong, I love all the “have a nice day”,  “you’re a winner”, type cards.   But this one just takes the pressure off.  It basically says, keep the bar low and things can only look up.   I write this on the eve of the first day of school for my kids, who have been dragged to this foreign land.  I truly hope their first day doesn’t totally suck.  Stay tuned for the update.

I have a new respect for stand-up comedians and bloggers (the really witty ones, that is).  It’s hard to be consistently entertaining and/or enlightening.   I need to remind myself that I’m writing this blog for the purpose of documenting our year abroad.  However, I admit its kind of thrilling when people are entertained, even a little, by what I write.  A lot has happened since my last post.   However, I’m finding that my inner wit is a bit constipated at the moment.  Anyway, until things loosen up, I’ll share some photos, interspersed with a few vignettes.   

Last week we spent a few days in Lake Annecy.   It is in the French Alps, very close to Geneva, Switzerland.  It's considered one of the gems of France and supposed to be one of the cleanest lakes in the world. 

In the Pedalo

When my girls were little, and I was forced to watch animated movies, I developed a begrudging affection for Beauty and the Beast.   I liked the little French streets that Belle would traipse down singing her songs.   To me, vieille ville (old town) Annecy, looks like a live version of Belle’s village (minus the tourists).   It is ridiculously charming,  full of cobblestone streets surrounded by pastel painted houses, with geranium planters in the windows.  Overlooking the village and the lake is the Chateau d’Annecy, which was built between the 12^th and 16^th centuries.

Near one of the canals

Local Charm

Dusk in Annecy

He wants to make sure it's REALLY California wine.

We visited the Chateau, which is basically used as a museum now.  The part I liked best was the story behind the Tour de la Reine (Queens Tower).   Legend has it that the king grew tired of his wife constantly nagging him about his infidelities.   So he locked her in the tower.  But she got some local monks to help her escape and sought refuge in the Abbey up on the hill.  The Abbey is still there, home to a bunch of nuns who’ve taken a vow of silence.   Sounds kind of relaxing.

Views from the Chateau . . .

quaint little streets . . .

and more views from the Chateau.

We ate ridiculously well in Annecy.  I can safely say the best food I’ve had in my life was at Restaurant L’Etage.   A steak cooked so perfectly, you barely needed the knife, with some sort of a brown butter sauce (I need a better word) that I can’t even describe.  Truffle risotto, with crispy slices of actual truffles.   The sweetest melon with paper thin slices of ham, delicately cooked baby artichokes with some creamy burrata confection.  Roasted bananas with rum.  I can’t even. 

And the wine.  I’ve always been more of a white wine gal, but I’m developing a real affection for reds.   Typically, if Jim and I finish off a bottle of red, I’m not feeling great the next day.  For some reason, the wines we are consuming here seem to go down a little too easily, with no morning after regrets. 
  

Being so close to Switzerland, fondue is a thing here, as well as something called “raclette”.   Basically, a big hunk of melted cheese.   They bring this contraption to your table that heats it up.  It looks like a medieval torture device.   I’m sure, in the US, they would make you sign a liability waiver before using it.   So, on our last night, we basically had cheese for dinner.  When in France . . .

 

We didn’t just sit around eating cheese though.   We did some paddle-boating (or Pedalo as it is called here), and did a bike ride around the lake.   We also visited the Gorges du Fier: a very cool walk through a narrow canyon on a footbridge about 25 meters above a gushing river.   

The Gorges

Allie and I, mid bike ride

Afterwards, we noticed another castle in the distance.  We found a short hiking trail and made our way up to the Château Médiéval de Montrottier.    A sweet little castle up on a hill overlooking a cow pasture.  We’re pretty sure our contractor could bring it up to code in no time at all.

Hike to the Chateau

Cows . . .

towers . . .

views . . .

and more views.

We returned to Paris for our final week before school started, thinking we’d ease back into things.  Unfortunately, Allie woke up not feeling well a couple days after we got back.   Stomach pains, headache, mild fever.  Hmm, what to do?   I had just met another parent that very day and she was full of good advice.  Try SOS Medecines, she tells me.  You can get an English speaking operator, and they make house calls for about 50 euros.  Great!  I call and the message is in French.  I hit “0” in the hopes of getting a human.  I do, but he tells me he only speaks a little English.   It takes about ten minutes of him speaking progressively louder and me saying, “pardon”, but I finally make progress. 

In about a half hour, “François” shows up.  We’re pretty sure he’s a doctor.    I try to explain to him that Allie had a mild fever and had been shivering.   Ah, he says, she needs fructose!  “That is why she is shaking”.  Okay.   He asks what we have given her.  We tell him that because she was in pain and had not slept, we gave her Advil.  "Mon dieu!"  "C’est terrible!"  "But, you do not know!"   We apologize profusely for being stupid American parents.  He proceeds with the usual stuff:   listening to her breathing, checking her ears, etc.  He proclaims that he can find nothing wrong and that it is just something that must run its course.   But, he says, he can do a urine test if we like.  Great, I say, lets do it.  I wait.  François just sits there.  Ah, he means for us to provide the cup – the BYOB of urine testing.  

A couple of weeks ago at the marché, the cheese guy gave me some yogurt samples in these cute little glass jars.  I saved them because I figured they’d be good for something.    I tell Allie, “remember those little yogurt jars?”  She runs out of the room and takes care of business.   François puts the little test stick in and we wait.  One of the lines turns purple and he says, “see, I told you, she needs fructose!”  Jim had run out of the room earlier, but confirms with François as he leaves, “so you’re sure it's not Appendicitis?”  François turns back immediately and grudgingly rechecks Allie’s abdominal area and concludes that she is fine.  We are charged 100 euros.  I guess the urine test jacked up the price.

A couple of days later, Charlie (le chien) spends the night vomiting.   We think this was the result of her eating street food – literally.  She is fine after a day or so, but my sainted husband spent considerable time going up and down the five flights of stairs with her in the middle of the night.  He did observe a couple making out in front of our building at about 3:30AM.   So, there's that.

This all has led up to the above mentioned first day of school.   Jim and I had a great first day: visited the Musée Jacquemart-André, and had lunch at a little brasserie on Place Victor-Hugo.  Rainy day.  Kind of perfect.   

Then the girls get home with the following high praise for their new school:  "it's not completely terrible".   After that, we discover our ceiling is leaking.  Not such a perfect day.   The insurance we had to buy, but hoped we wouldn't need, just might kick in.  The adjuster will be here next week.    I'm betting his name will be François.

à bientôt