A little late in coming, but as I come close to wrapping up my semester and I suppose a blog about my vacation is in order. Coming back was a whirlwind as I was immediately thrown into the rhythm of classes again, but this time with actual work to do (wait, exams?), and blogging has not been very easy.
First of all, my voyage of discovery begin with a discovery a little bit sour: Grenoble is not too incredible and it's worse in the rain. I don't even want to write about it, as a city it's too depressing: dirty, dark and lacking charm. However, I did meet some interesting people at the youth hostel. There was a retreat there my last night in Grenoble for future nurses, and there was a party in the hostel's bar. Someone had a guitar and lent it to me, I played for some people and it seemed to go over quite well. Man, was it good to play a decent instrument (I kick myself every day for leaving my guitar at home).
My second full day staying in Grenoble I actually left Grenoble - I took the train to a little city called Chambery, which proved to be rather disappointing in the rain. It was a pretty downtown (there's an elephant fountain?) but since even the castle was closed for renovation and I was drenched and miserable, I wandered around in circles upset and very, very lonely. I actually got my haircut just to get out of the rain. It was very interesting communicate with the hairdresser in french... but in the end, it turned out quite well.
I was incredibly relieved to leave Grenoble, but also tired, worried and incredibly emotional. What was I thinking to travel alone to the Alps in April, and why didn't I at least hop on over to Switzerland? I spent the train ride to Annecy staring at my journal and trying to remember that I have a millions of people who love and support me back home, in Rennes and in the States.
Part two of my voyage découverte, Annecy, was infinitely better, though it started with the same misgivings. I felt like I had been on the cusp of tears for days, and Annecy was enough to completely turn my spirits around.
I got there in mid-afternoon. As usual, pouring rain - in Bretagne, it rains but it rains in cloudbursts. In the mountains, when it rains, it rains and does not stop. From the train station, there was no indication of how this town could be built on a lake and surrounded by mountains. When I finally found my youth hostel I was about ready to burst into tears from fatigue and loneliness, though I was slightly heartened by the fact that there was indeed a lake. The view from the breakfast room was clearly spectacular. While waiting for the reception to open, after realizing that I was attracting attention from the group of middle-aged woman sitting and chatting in the lobby, and not willing to try and explain myself in French, I left my things in the luggage room and dug my rain jacket out of my backpack. A short hop down the same very steep hill I had lugged my baggage up from the bus stop, followed by a longer slip-and-slide down the second part of the hill, and I arrived at the lake-side.
And happened to bump into a marathon. That's right! The Sunday I arrived, April 15th, was the Lake Annecy Marathon. Bemused and suddenly elated at the fact that I was finally seeing a large mass of French people exercising (and man, is that exercising!), I followed the crowd a bit and self-consciously cheered the runners on alongside the race monitors (Allez, les filles!). Even though the weather was cold and wet, these runners were pushing through... I believe I was catching the end of the half-marathon, as the 26.2 milers had started in the late morning.
I then followed alongside the race course down to the old city, nestled in the corner of the lake.
Pure enchantment are the words I wrote in my journal the next day. Even in the rain (and maybe even because of the rain) it was magical - arching bridges over miniature canals, little winding streets, lights reflecting off the water. When you arrive in the old city from the lake, you first are greeted by the big, majestic tour boats who make harbor right before the lake forms into a canal. On one side, there is a beautiful park with benches alongside the water where you can stare out at the water, and on a clear day, the mountains.
You then enter the Old Town, and it's as if you are thrown into another era, another world, even. Little cafés and restaurants along the canals, stone archways spanning narrow streets that are almost tunnels. You are a medieval peasant, knight or a princess of the Savoie, whatever you prefer.
I wandered aimlessly, people-watching and dreaming. Even in the rain, the streets were lively, full of couples young and old walking hand in hand, families on their Sunday afternoon walks. This is a place to come with a lover... After drinking a much-needed coffee, I decided to return to the hostel and check in before seeing about dinner.
When I got to my room, I met my roommates for the night - two lovely English women in their thirties named Sally and Theresa. When I arrived, Sally and I started talking to one another in French before realizing that we were both anglophones! They were passing through Annecy on their way home from Geneva, where they had been visiting friends. They invited me to eat dinner with them, and I was elated at the thought of a real dinner with real conversation. Since I knew the way, I became the guide. We ate in a very lovely restaurant, and all three ordered the "gourmandist" menu, which involved a starter, a main dish and a dessert. I ate gaspacho, salmon, and ice cream - my poor dairy-intolerant stomach! But it was delicious, made even more so by conversation. Finished out with a "nice cup o' tea" as the waiter put it, and headed back up to the hostel. It was fun to talk and giggle late into the night... I went to sleep with a smile.
The next morning when Sally and Theresa left was rather bittersweet - I think we were really kindred spirits, even though they were in thirties, and I'm glad we are keeping in touch on ze facebook. I'll have to get to London one day, it's absolutely necessary that I discover the theatre of the West End.
I spent the day wandering around the city - visiting the Monastery, peeking in the churches, and visiting the Musée-Chateau, which I absolutely loved. Half of it is devoted to art, both historical and cultural art of the region and contemporary art inspired by the mountains and renewable energy, and the other half devoted to the biology and history of lake Annecy itself - the water, the flora and the fauna, the archeological findings - did you know they found mermaid skeletons? I had no idea that there were creatures that resembled this particular folklore - a nice insight into where the myth may have come from, and why so many cultures have a mermaid myth.
That night I had a wonderful conversation with an elderly french man - he told me about his life, living in Germany and Italy. He understood why I feel the need to travel and experience the world; and in addition, why I was traveling solo. I have remarked that many young french people don't understand why I'm traveling, they want to stay in their corner. Not all, but often that is the case. I talked about this phenomenon with the man. It was really a lovely encounter.
The next day, I had a glimmer of hope - the weather forecast predicted sunny, clear skies. I woke up, looked out the window, and saw the sunlight glimmering off the water in the distance... First step, leisurely breakfast, then on y va! I went in search of the bike shop recommended, which meant going into the Old Town, where I ran into an outdoor market. It was beautiful and lively and I decided to make a picnic out of goat cheese, a traditional country baguette, saucisson, and the orange I swiped from the breakfast at the hostel. I chatted with the market vendors - they were incredibly nice. This is one thing I really noted in Annecy, that people were incredibly open to talking to foreigners, and I guess it makes sense since they have so many people passing through from Switzerland, Italy, and apparently the U.K.
The bike ride was incredible, even though the bike I was given was slightly too short between the seat and the pedals. The mountains were showing their snowy peaks, the sky was blue and the lake turquoise. The paragliders were out and I was far from the only person who though to take out a bicycle and ride along the lake - the trail was crowded, actually. I stopped to eat at the end of the trail, out past the end of the lake, soaking in the mountains around me and watching the paragliders land in the field just beside me.
I couldn't take pictures of myself, so I took pictures of the picnic:
That night I returned happily to the hostel...
Part three of my voyage, Chamonix, is for the next entry!
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