Trains, cutters, and space hogs
I have to be straight with you...the train ride to Chamonix (2 transfers) was at once boring and exciting! I was going to the Alps! Really, the Alps! The prospect made this mountain girl's heart skip a beat or two.
By the time we made it to the lovely town, we were pretty tired. Our flight from Roma, then the train, trolley, trek to money, food, and toilet, and train with plenty of waiting in between really taxed our constitutions. When we arrived, we were rendered speechless by the beauty of the area. Yes, I know I normally post pix but I don't have any, yet. When I do you, too, will be without words. We looked at the maps and tried to determine in which direction lay our hotel. We pulled our luggage up, down, across around, over, under, and through until Jesi broke down and asked someone for directions. I want to make something perfectly clear - my daughter is amazing - in so many ways. She navigated through Paris, Roma, Geneva, and the rest of our trip like a pro. When I say she broke down to ask directions, this is not in anyway critical - one of the important mantras of travelers is to always look like you know where you are going and that you belong where you are. The problem with this place is that the maps were not so good.
We arrived at Hotel Prieure'. What a wonderful place! The view from our balcony on the sixth floor was more than we could hope for. We left the curtains open because we had an unobstructed view of Mont Blanc. This beautiful mountain is 15, 774 and the area, well, there are no words. I really think I learned more about the people of this region, the French, Italian, Swiss, and Spanish, here than anywhere we went. Being here reminded me of why I miss life in Colorado. Don't get me wrong, I love Oklahoma and all that my adopted home has brought into my life but there is a difference in the way people look at life...
The food here was wonderful - I do overuse several words but it's my blog - I can do what I want. It was a very relaxed atmosphere. We arrived on Saturday - the next day was Easter. There is a certain charm in a place where the stores close for lunch - 2 hours - and where the restaurant owners' dogs take their place in the dining room with everyone else. We spent one evening in a place called the Agile Rabbit. The resident canine was intently watching his/her master for some sign. When the master gave it, the dog trotted behind the bar, snagged a dog biscuit, loped up the stairs, and ate in the privacy of the personal quarters. Moments later, back down the stairs to begin the watchful waiting for another sign. Very entertaining.
At the same time, we watched the change come over the establishment. We were each sipping a glass of wine and thinking about what we might do next when the man and woman behind the bar began to put together various hor' verves. The dinner hour was approaching, Jesi told me. Remember, French people have lots of rituals around food and drink. The lights came down, the music changed and in moments, without moving, we were in a different place. Charming!
Back to the talk of mountains... we took a train to the Mer de Glace glacier. So, we went up into the mountains then rode a cable car down to the actual glacier. The train was somewhat crowded but the cable car was practically empty. We found out why as we rode down - every skier in the country of France was lined up at the bottom waiting to take the cable car back up so they could take the train back down to Chamonix. We did get to see an ice cave - kind cool, okay, cold. Then we trudged back up the step to take our place in line.
I'm not sure that I have mentioned a little quirk of these Europeans (British subjects, excluded) - they do not know how to stand in line. The vast majority of the French, Italians, and Spaniards we encountered think that they are above standing in line - that lines are not worth concerning their little heads about. I guess they think that lines are meant to keep all the other people out of their way as they sprint to the front. I have to admit, I did have one lapse of good manners. After several people passed right by us, the line we were in wasn't moving. The were not two lines, only one but line cutting is close to a continental obssession. Soccer - #1, cutting in line in front of everyone else - #2, good food and wine - #3. I put my foot down and said, in my deepest most terrifying voice, "None shall pass!" And they didn't... :-)
We finally made it to the cable car and were packed in like so many sardines - except many of these sardines had skies and snowboards. Up to the top, up the stairs, up the ramp, we made it all the way to.... the line to get onto the train. I must confess here a little bit of irony - as the line wound up to the train, I was jostled into a different part of the line that was farther advanced. Yes, I was pushed into being a line-cutter. I did make my way to a corner where I could wait for my baby girl so I did not make it on the train any quicker than those who had waited in line with me.
We fortunately found the last two seat on the train and tried to take up a little space as we could - it is only polite. But... this older man - probably in his middle sixty's was sitting across from me - you know how train seats are two benches facing one another. I sit back as far as I can so our knees are not touching. He begins to slump in his seat pushing his knees toward mine. I look at him, look over toward Jesi, "Are you watching this?" I send to here through my eyes. I sqwench farther into my seat to gain another millimeter of space between our knee caps and he pushes his knees closer to mine - taking up way more than half of the space. At the same time, Hoggy McHog pushes his satchel toward the fellow sitting next to him, again, taking up more than half the space. This fellow tries to compress himself and his belongings into a smaller area - about 1/3 of the seat. I am sharing my seat with two others and we are perfectly content with one-third of the space but not this bozo. There is a young girl, standing in the aisle next to McHog. If he had been a little gentlemanly, he could have moved over just a bit and there would have been room for her to sit. The young men occupying the other seats around us begin to take notice of the little drama. I don't move but watch the space hog across from me. He twists his butt around in his seat to project himself even farther into my space, and his knees are now no longer touching mine but are making in roads past my knee caps. I lock eyes with him, squeeze my knees together, and knee butt him back onto his side of the public space. Suddenly, he decides he wants to sit up straight and take up the appropriate amount of space. Yes, I have emerged victorious. All you line-cutters and space hogs, take note!
By the time we made it to the lovely town, we were pretty tired. Our flight from Roma, then the train, trolley, trek to money, food, and toilet, and train with plenty of waiting in between really taxed our constitutions. When we arrived, we were rendered speechless by the beauty of the area. Yes, I know I normally post pix but I don't have any, yet. When I do you, too, will be without words. We looked at the maps and tried to determine in which direction lay our hotel. We pulled our luggage up, down, across around, over, under, and through until Jesi broke down and asked someone for directions. I want to make something perfectly clear - my daughter is amazing - in so many ways. She navigated through Paris, Roma, Geneva, and the rest of our trip like a pro. When I say she broke down to ask directions, this is not in anyway critical - one of the important mantras of travelers is to always look like you know where you are going and that you belong where you are. The problem with this place is that the maps were not so good.
We arrived at Hotel Prieure'. What a wonderful place! The view from our balcony on the sixth floor was more than we could hope for. We left the curtains open because we had an unobstructed view of Mont Blanc. This beautiful mountain is 15, 774 and the area, well, there are no words. I really think I learned more about the people of this region, the French, Italian, Swiss, and Spanish, here than anywhere we went. Being here reminded me of why I miss life in Colorado. Don't get me wrong, I love Oklahoma and all that my adopted home has brought into my life but there is a difference in the way people look at life...
The food here was wonderful - I do overuse several words but it's my blog - I can do what I want. It was a very relaxed atmosphere. We arrived on Saturday - the next day was Easter. There is a certain charm in a place where the stores close for lunch - 2 hours - and where the restaurant owners' dogs take their place in the dining room with everyone else. We spent one evening in a place called the Agile Rabbit. The resident canine was intently watching his/her master for some sign. When the master gave it, the dog trotted behind the bar, snagged a dog biscuit, loped up the stairs, and ate in the privacy of the personal quarters. Moments later, back down the stairs to begin the watchful waiting for another sign. Very entertaining.
At the same time, we watched the change come over the establishment. We were each sipping a glass of wine and thinking about what we might do next when the man and woman behind the bar began to put together various hor' verves. The dinner hour was approaching, Jesi told me. Remember, French people have lots of rituals around food and drink. The lights came down, the music changed and in moments, without moving, we were in a different place. Charming!
Back to the talk of mountains... we took a train to the Mer de Glace glacier. So, we went up into the mountains then rode a cable car down to the actual glacier. The train was somewhat crowded but the cable car was practically empty. We found out why as we rode down - every skier in the country of France was lined up at the bottom waiting to take the cable car back up so they could take the train back down to Chamonix. We did get to see an ice cave - kind cool, okay, cold. Then we trudged back up the step to take our place in line.
I'm not sure that I have mentioned a little quirk of these Europeans (British subjects, excluded) - they do not know how to stand in line. The vast majority of the French, Italians, and Spaniards we encountered think that they are above standing in line - that lines are not worth concerning their little heads about. I guess they think that lines are meant to keep all the other people out of their way as they sprint to the front. I have to admit, I did have one lapse of good manners. After several people passed right by us, the line we were in wasn't moving. The were not two lines, only one but line cutting is close to a continental obssession. Soccer - #1, cutting in line in front of everyone else - #2, good food and wine - #3. I put my foot down and said, in my deepest most terrifying voice, "None shall pass!" And they didn't... :-)
We finally made it to the cable car and were packed in like so many sardines - except many of these sardines had skies and snowboards. Up to the top, up the stairs, up the ramp, we made it all the way to.... the line to get onto the train. I must confess here a little bit of irony - as the line wound up to the train, I was jostled into a different part of the line that was farther advanced. Yes, I was pushed into being a line-cutter. I did make my way to a corner where I could wait for my baby girl so I did not make it on the train any quicker than those who had waited in line with me.
We fortunately found the last two seat on the train and tried to take up a little space as we could - it is only polite. But... this older man - probably in his middle sixty's was sitting across from me - you know how train seats are two benches facing one another. I sit back as far as I can so our knees are not touching. He begins to slump in his seat pushing his knees toward mine. I look at him, look over toward Jesi, "Are you watching this?" I send to here through my eyes. I sqwench farther into my seat to gain another millimeter of space between our knee caps and he pushes his knees closer to mine - taking up way more than half of the space. At the same time, Hoggy McHog pushes his satchel toward the fellow sitting next to him, again, taking up more than half the space. This fellow tries to compress himself and his belongings into a smaller area - about 1/3 of the seat. I am sharing my seat with two others and we are perfectly content with one-third of the space but not this bozo. There is a young girl, standing in the aisle next to McHog. If he had been a little gentlemanly, he could have moved over just a bit and there would have been room for her to sit. The young men occupying the other seats around us begin to take notice of the little drama. I don't move but watch the space hog across from me. He twists his butt around in his seat to project himself even farther into my space, and his knees are now no longer touching mine but are making in roads past my knee caps. I lock eyes with him, squeeze my knees together, and knee butt him back onto his side of the public space. Suddenly, he decides he wants to sit up straight and take up the appropriate amount of space. Yes, I have emerged victorious. All you line-cutters and space hogs, take note!
posted by OurayDreamer at 8:35 PM
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