This past weekend, (I feel like I say that a lot, I wish I could write more currently, but you’ll see why) Friday specifically, I flew up alone to Chamonix, France. Adam, my brother, had arrived the day before and was waiting for my arrival (meaning he was skiing). Chamonix is one of the most famous ski resorts in the world and is situated below Switzerland and adjacent to Italy, in the southeast corner of France.
My flight was at 5:00 pm on Easyjet, (for those of you that can’t guess, this means difficult jet) and they have weird boarding regulations so I wanted to get there early. Again, I’m realizing more and more the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree (Paka), and I went to pick up a giant panino of Porchetta, roasted pig that has been deboned and filled with spice and then rolled back up so the juices stay inside (truly one of the finer things in life), and sun dried tomatoes. It is an apparently very traditional italian panino and adding another ingredient could only detract from its unbelievable albeit simple taste. But I digress… So I walked to the train station, the same one that I arrived at on my first day in rome, and this time paid zero euros instead of twenty for the 5 minute walk. The train came quickly and within 30 minutes I was at Roma Fiumicino at 2:40, where I had a laughing fit when a guy (40ties, glasses, business guy) walking next to me, to the airport as well, started whistling the classical disney hymn In the Jungle from The Jungle Book. Now DifficultJet can charge such cheap fares (in the realm of 20 to 90 euro for two weeks in advance) because it charges for the air you if you breathe too much of their oxygen. The nice and attractive stewardess stood at the gate pulling people out of line when she thought their carry-on was too large and watched them check that it fit (not only do you have to the normal fee for checking, but an additional fine for trying to sneak a bigger one on). Their dimensions for a carry on are 56x45x25 cm; I was a little worried about my tiny gym locker bag, but I passed with flying colors. Their other usual practice is that every plane is a half hour late. Once we were seated, we were told that the control tower had pushed us back on the line and we sat for 30 - 40 minutes before we were given clearance to take off. Other than that the flight was unmemorable.
What was memorable however, was missing my chartered bus from Geneva to Chamonix, an hour and a half journey. There are many companies that offer transfers to the mountain and mine left exactly when they said they would. Due to our tardiness and another 20 minutes on the runway in Geneva, I got off the plane at 7:29; my transfer left at 7:30 and I had no where to go. OH and also at this point, I was out of minutes on my phone! So I was out of reach and couldn’t call the company to explain. So after finding the meeting point and realizing they were gone, I spent the next 20 minutes trying to contact someone from the company only to get through and be told that the next one would leave at 8:30 and I’d be on that. Meanwhile, in a sleepy little town called Argentiere (the actual town where Adam and I stayed), Adam expected me to show up around 9. Problem was, I had no minutes, he had no phone. I begged to borrow a strangers phone and got in contact with the hotel and left a message that I’d be in by 10. Well I did get to Chamonix by 10 and I of course was the last person to be dropped off (they offered door to door service) and I landed in front of the hotel at 10:45. Adam found me, he was at the pub across the and had just ordered food, and ran me in there to order food out of the kitchen that closed 15 minutes ago. I could only get pizza (I thought I left the pizza capital, not went to it) and french fries. Fries —>good, Pizza —> soggy. But it was good to see Adam and good to relax after my journey on DifficultJet.
The next day, I did something I haven’t done since 2004, I rented skis and boots. I will never complain about my equipment ever again. Hold me to it, you will never see as much as a frown. My boots were too big, I had an inch below my heel when I was on the chair lift, and then my toes slammed into the front of the boots when I turned. The skis were fine and not the problem, but boots oh boots were they fun. Adam had picked out the mountain we would ski at (Chamonix is a collection of about 6 different ski areas) because I knew/know nothing about them. We went to somewhere, I’ll ask Adam for the name, and it was so different from anything I’ve skied in the US. The mountains were barren; trees were scarce and jagged cliff shapes rose out of no where, and this was of what I could see. The clouds were socked in and it started snowing, which I was not equipped for in my long underwear, north face, and rain shell, but I made do. I felt like a beginner again and struggled a little bit with getting around the mountain. It wasn’t particularly steep, but I was not terribly confident. Watching the movie The Edge Of Never (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viQRxxJoeFo) the week before might have had something to do with that. But it was a great day. I eventually got my legs under me and could enjoy the spectacular environment I was skiing in. We took a tram up to the top of the mountain and skied down, following the marked poles and not seeing much else. Thank God, because this tram travels up 2000 meters (about 6000 feet) in 10 minutes with no support poles between the station. I am not the biggest fan of chairlifts and this confirmed that uneasiness. About an hour later the storm broke for a little bit and we raced up the same tram to see and ski what we had before. The top offered incredible views of the valley and other ski areas. I called it Telluride on steroids, the sharp lines and ravines the Alp skyline created was unfathomable. Every 2 feet, you got a different perspective and the mountains looked even cooler. The day ended after that run, which took about 45 minutes, 30 of skiing 15 of picture taking, and we took the bus back to Argentiere.
The night was quiet, with a lack luster dinner, and we were both too exhausted to go to a bar or do anything. We got to sleep early only to do it bigger and better the next day.
Sunday, our final day, was hectic because we had to arrange our return transfer back to the Geneva airport, again not having a phone making this very stressful, and we wanted to do too much. We tried to pack skiing in with a viewing tram that climbs 8000 vertical feet in 20 minutes and over looks everything in the world. You can also ski down from this, but a guide is highly recommended… We eventually got the traveling figured out and hit the slopes (this time at a different slope). The terrain here was much different and resembled a giant bowl with a cliff or two in the middle. I preferred it, because I was a little more comfortable, and used to the conditions, plus it had better snow since it was north facing. The highlight was taking a tram up to the top. Again the tram was in the fog so I managed to make it up to the top station which was build into the rock cliff. The wind was howling and the visibility was terrible. There were signs saying Danger beyond this point and others freeing them of liability and your foolishness to go up there in the first place. Outside the first door was a staircase; this was not one ordinary staircase. Now, walking down stairs in ski boots is never fun, but add to that, 40 mph gusts, people hurrying to get down passing you, and the fact that these 4 staircases were built on the slope of cliff with certain death awaiting you, if you slipped and fell off the right side railing. Finally, I got down to solid ground put on the skis and enjoyed the best snow of the trip. It wasn’t terribly steep in comparison to the vertical cliff we had just scaled, but still needed to be aware. There were minefields of moguls that appeared which set off charges in my far too loose boots and explosions through my thighs. These were only trumped by the snow camouflaged rock outcroppings that you couldn’t discern until it was too late and you came to a halt and went around or went over unexpectedly. Never more have the lines of adrenaline filled fun and fear of death blurred so far.
We didn’t make it to the tram that took us to the top to view the world in its entirety and instead had a great lunch at a little place called Chez Anais. I had a local beer, Mont Blanc Blonde and Aignillettes de Canard aux 2 poivres (we are in France now, Duck breast in pink and green peppercorn sauce). It was nice to have a lot of sauce (something the italians criticize the french for) and it went well with scalloped potatoes. We then took our transfer to the airport, where again we had lots of time. I read, Adam skyped with my parents and located things to do in Rome (thank you Rick Steves) and again our plane was late.
We got into Rome around 10:45, only after the all italian flight stopped yelling Vai! Vai! Vai! or Go! Go! Go! and a somber train back to my home. It’s always nice to get away and visit other places, but every time I do, I am more and more glad that I chose to study in Rome. Rome offers the perfect environment for studying, traveling, partying, and most importantly never being bored.
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