The sun has set on the 3rd of January, the confetti had all settled on the ground from the New Years Parties, and 57% of the worlds Resolutions had already been broken. It was time for us to leave Paris and head towards the Swiss Alps.
I can't say that I was sad to leave the urine tainted Metro or the abundance of dog poop that is left spotted on the footpath. But Paris was the place where some excellent memories were made.
Thank goodness for the fact that we had to take the 12.15 bus, 7.50am would have been a hopeless case. We made the trek towards the Major train station, perhaps been mistaken for a pack of mules. While we waited for our train Annie serenaded us on the public use piano. Now, I'm going to make a general statement here and say that The French as a whole are not an organised bunch. They let everyone know what their train was only 10 minutes before departure. Absolutely no room for mistakes. Vite, Vite! We bolted down platform 7, on the search for cabin 56. What if we forgot something, what if we were meant to print out tickets. Too bad, the train will take off without you. We had to work as a team. 2 people, the weaklings, went and found our seats. Lars, threw the bags in the train, Kirsten and Annie helped pack the bags away. (You can guess who the weaklings were). We went through this process three times, with each train getting progressively smaller. By the end we were on a 2 cabin fern ocular.
With a strange clanking noise, we changed directions and started our incline up the alps. We were surrounded by darkness and were filled with anticipation for what would replace it in the morning. At our destination were we greeted by the kind of cold that you only get in a ski town. The graceful but painfully numb kind. Our Air B&B host drove us to our Chalet. Our squeals were hard to contain. And we're let out at the sight of the gorgeous secret bathroom. We went for a quick walk on the search for milk, but we did not prevail. Bedtime.
The morning started with a bang and a rush of fresh air. Lars had opened the window and could keep his view a secret no longer. While we slept, the clouds were hard at work creating the most voluptuous and soft looking snow, and making enough to cover the town. They didn't softly sift the snow, it was shared generously across Champery. Making each Chalet look like tiny cakes. The trees were being rustled by excited blackbirds, each movement caused a sprinkle of snow to shimmer and fall slowly to the ground. As we walked through the town, there was noone in sight. The fresh powder had only been touched by tiny little snow cat paws. The shops were closed for lunch hour and everyone was at home tending to their fire. The chimneys were setting the scene while the smoke wafted out.
We lunched then made our way, tentatively, down towards the river. We were suddenly on a bush walk and we did not mind. In the bottom of the valley were small, frozen ponds, covered in shadows. Places that will not see the sun for a few more months. So, what else do you do with frozen water? Try and walk on it. And we succeeded!
The sun was setting and we had reached a sign that roughly translated to 'go away or my dogs will eat you'. Annika's said that it was the beginning of a horror movie. We obeyed the sign. We made our way back to our home and blasted the heaters, only to find that Lars was sneakily opening the windows. We had our gourmet meal made from the jug and microwave and settled in for a Christmas edition of Sherlock.
Next day. More snow. More squeals. This morning the snow was even more picturesque, and our breaths were even more cloudy. Time to get our hiking shoes on and as send the alps... Or get on the cost gondola with all the ski bunnies. As we got higher above the town, the fast our shutter speeds were going. There is not enough sun light in the day to capture the beauty that is this small town. A Forrest of evergreen shaded by icing sugar. Just imagine all the snow animals that were hiding in those trees!
We reached the mountain and Lars had suddenly gained a 'leg injury' which made it look okay that he want skiing. Let's just say that Lars and Annie were saddend by the fact that they weren't up their to ski. And by saddened I mean utterly destraught! We sipped Swiss hot chocolates and shared some soul warming chips. Even though the price was pocket burning.
As high up the Mountain that we could get, we played, mum made a snow angel, and we got stuck thigh deep in the powder. The view, believe it or not, was even more magnificent. The alps stretching as far as we could see. Each secret pocket of each mountain would have their own sweet story to tell. After an hour, we had exhausted not only our energy but our dry clothing. Best to get back to a dry building. Luckily, the transportation drops us off at our snowy doorstep.
The afternoon became a game of cat and mouse. Going out to play in the magical snowflakes that dust our bobbled beanies, then been chased back inside by the frost biting at our fingertips. In the end we just toughened up and had our snowball fight!
We warmed up and fancied ourselves for our evening ahead. Apperitefs in the cosy lounge bar then straight to the Holy Grail of Switzerland- Fondue House. Cheese. Pointy sticks. Bread. Flames. Wine. These are the ingredients of a fine dinner. When Lars and Annie had successfully scrapped every morsel of burnt cheese off the bottom of the pot, much to Kirsten's delight, we headed back to our Chalet for our final sleep in our fairytale. So thank you Champery for all the memories, especially Tea and Malteasers xo
The view from our place.
Snow my god!
More painting than photo.
The cold sisters hanging out.
One of these people has bigger boots than the other.
