Day Seven
Injuries; I appear to have been bitten on the eyebrow
Cash; Oh vanished, gone!
Weather; Yup, sunshine was a momentary lapse, rain again today
The bikers set off early this morning but I had a leisurely breakfast. I had been meaning to spend the day at the Lake but it was so dodgy weather-wise that I took Steve and Nicky up on their offer of a lift to Chamonix instead. At least in a town there wouldn't be steep paths to walk up and I could just sit outside a cafe pretending to be French. Funnily enough no one mistakes me for a French person, even from a distance. Small children have come up to me to say 'hello', look shy and run off - I have this effect on people. I think it could be the way I dress; I've ended up a bit 'utility chic' this trip and am spending my time in anorak and jeans tucked into my hiking socks with hiking boots to complete the ensemble (that's not the anorak tucked into my socks - even I couldn't carry that one off!). I did try to go for 'Continental and Classy' in the earlier part of the holiday but all my good clothes were for better weather which never arrived and the look now is defintely more 'Waterproof Tramp'. Hey ho.
I helped Steve and Nicky threading up the kebabs for the barbecue we would be having later. Nicky had found this recipe for lemony marinade on the internet and set about putting the meat and veggies into it. I prepped up some fruit skewers in Grand Marnier syrup for dessert and we set off for the hour-long drive to Chamonix.
I have to note that outside the chalet has been getting whiffier each day as our collection of used sporting equipment gets larger. Today's smell of well-used shoes outside the door would rival even the cheese shops in eye-watering pungency.
On the way to the town, Steve did his usual trick of waving his hands out of the window to point out touristy things whilst driving fast along windy mountain roads. When I first saw him do this I thought Nicky must be driving. I tried not to think about it! One of the things he was telling me about was that Chamonix has the highest cable car in the world and that on a good day you could see across the clouds and the mountain tops poking through them. It wasn't a chair lift so I thought I'd give it a go. Having found the base of the lift I noticed a huge sign saying 'No view today' in about ten languages. Typical. I asked at the information office to see if there was any hope of it clearing later and she said that they were expecting storms although tomorrow would be perfect. I am getting sick of hearing how great the weather was before I got there and how great it will be after I've left.
The word 'storm' hit home though as they close the lifts in a storm. I could see it now, me caught in a 60s disaster movie, watching the cable car vanishing into a blizzard below me having been hit by lightning and Doug McClure or Steve McQueen urging me to 'jump' to the next car that they had spent the rest of the movie upto that point pulling along behind them by hand as they shimmied along the cable to save those inside from certain death. There would be a cute kid and a frail old lady clinging onto the rope before me and they would just have made it by a fraction. The child's teddy might even have fallen into the snowy abyss as he made the leap. A cute blonde would have made the jump before and torn some of her dress on the way over. I could see the strap line now; They came for the dream view, and lived through a nightmare... Big Screen Distribution presents CABLECAR'.
I think I may have an overactive imagination.
I had inadvertently freed up some time so I sat down on one of the deck chairs outside the Tourist Information Office - yes, deck chairs in a ski resort - the guy next to me had that unfortunate thing of being a bit too tall and was sitting with his knees in the air and his bum on the ground as the fabric had been overstretched and no longer supported anyone's weight. He tried to look cool but I think he knew that he would be waiting until after sundown to try and get out of that one with no one else seeing. I digress. The perfect use for free time in this kind of situation is a bit of people watching, or in this case, dog watching. The French in the Alpine region seem to have the taste for either really big dogs - the kind that could rescue you from a blizzard and come equipped with some kind of alcoholic restorative in a special compartment in their collar and that could possibly save you from your stricken cable car - or really small dogs that get carried in pockets and handbags and get made to wear fluffy overcoats - the kind you'd be chucking into the abyss as excess baggage the moment danger struck.
Quick conversational tangent - I saw a guy in a traffic jam with his baguette in the front seat next to him wearing a seat belt. How funny is that? I reckon his wife is sitting somewhere in a bakery wondering what the heck happened to her lift home.
So I spent the morning people watching and drinking coffee and using a made up language to ask questions at the tourist office - ha! that'll teach them for assuming that I'm English!
The 'barbecue at the Lake' turned inevitably to the 'barbecue on the balcony' as the weather took another turn for the worse. I could see Doug and Steve limbering up in the background with their St. Bernard in the wings. The lemon marinade was fairly astringent and it was funny to see everyone being polite about it so as not to offend Nicky. It really wasn't that bad, it just felt a bit like eating veggies dressed in Jif cleaning fluid. Possibly not the gourmet experience she had been going for.
Topped off my last night by going to an ice hockey match with Steve. I'd been gutted earlier in the week because I'd wanted to see a match and there was no mention of one on any of the leaflets at the rink. I was really chuffed to see the banner hanging across the street saying that there would be a match that night. The bikers weren't up for it as they would be doing canyoning the next day but Steve came along to keep me company, and to get out of doing the washing up.
I like a good dirty game of ice hockey but it was even more appealing in this instance as it gave me the opportunity to watch someone other than me getting bruised which was a bit of a turnaround for the week. A beer later and I was shouting 'Allez Morzine' at what I hoped were the appropriate moments - we were the ones in red, right? Obviously the fouls were the best part of it and I learnt all sorts of new French vocab, much of it through lipreading what one sin bin occupant was shouting at the occupant of the other sin bin. What was that about 'Your mother...'? It was also good learning the words for the different fouls - the most popular ones being as follows:
Player A hooks player B around the legs with his hockey stick in mid-skate and pulls back sharply sending player B thumping to the ground. This is an example of TREBUCHET - tripping.
Player B gets up, throws his helmet onto the ice and punches Player A in the face slamming him into the plexi glass. This is an example of LUTTE - fighting.
Player C sees player A flat out on the ice, throws his helmet down and slams Player B into the glass, Players, D, E, F, G, H, I and the goalie join player C whilst players J, K, L, M, N, O, P and a referee who got in the way join the collection of helmet-throwing, crazed baboons in a major barney not unlike those seen at the taxi rank on a Friday night. This is an example of MEGALUTTE - an Asterix-style punch up with pretty much the whole village taking part.
It was a satisfyingly brutal match and the home team won 7-6.
Got back and realised I had to be up to meet my transfer bus in three hours.
See you next year.
Elsie.
