Everyday luxuries - remember remember the 5th of November

 Remember remember the 5th of November....

I've been thinking about addiction and how it seems to be everywhere. Of course some are very visible, and some are more tolerable than others. Having lived with an alcoholic, the pain and sadness of not being able to do anything to stop it is a constant reminder of how difficult it is to tackle. Not being able to pierce that bubble of denial and exhausted by efforts to reason the person, I removed myself and detached emotionally.

History seems to repeat and I turn inward to check whether I have my own denial bubble. When procrastinating and sleeping long hours and gazing or spacing out, I deny my realities and postpone that moment to take action and be productive. That is indeed my biggest luxury I indulge in. Putting it into words help define the pains and obstacles. 

Far from any social circle, my addiction to slow living and idleness feels apart from everyone else's time and space continuum. The clocks are ticking so regularly it does not feel like time but a lulling song. The little indoor forest soaks the autumn sun and sooth me into lazy comfort, and I am grateful I can still enjoy the luxury of peace and quiet despite my deep inner stress and anxiety for the future.

 As I take stock of what's around me, I find the courage to put another foot forward, doing what comforts me and building strength to confront my angst. My addiction is spending, accumulating, traveling and food, certainly. And writing helps. I hope my loved ones find that bolting realization to burst their denial bubble, to face their pains and discomforts, and find joys in the everyday luxuries around them.

Encounter with a beauty quark (idea) at CERN

They must have been mighty inspired to call a particle a beauty quark. Not sure why a bottom quark became known as beauty quark, I browsed the English language internet and stumbled on a cute site here. The term adds to the cute and cool factor of an overall electrical engineering intensive site.

Sunday was my first encounter with such temporary matter, at the open house of the CERN, for their 60th anniversary.  I received a ticket with my name about a week before my visit, with the GPS coordinate of the underground tunnel entrance(I appreciated the geek factor). I researched the public transportation access but it was futile. So I ended up taking the train to the airport, and taking a cab from the French side of the airport to a place merely across the field.

Stripped of a full 30 euros for cab fare, I separated from my handbag, got my ticket scanned, and got in line for the tunnel 8 entrance. Fully dressed in white and a maxi skirt, I added a bit of lacy frivolity to a group of overly mountain shoes and trousers-wearing visitors and guides. The cute yellow helmet and a big plastic badge was added to the apparel to visit the site.

After zooming down to 103m below ground with a green elevator (the only fire escape route), we got face to face with the DELPHI experiment doughnut shaped engine. Far from being industrial grey and dark, the inside of the tunnel was shining in bright basic Lego colours: yellow platforms , metallic blue rails, orange and red wires, gold plated mirrors, green motherboards and scaffolding. I could not remember why the tracker was in doughnut shape or why silicone tube was used.

We also stood at the lowest point of the tunnel, at 103 m below sea level, where apparently an opera was held as the tunnel's acoustic was so preciously fantastic. At that point, a 10 m diameter well was used to lower down the equipment.

Moving on past the data collection computer room, where a number of regular PC save the data generated by 40 000 000 collisions or so per second, we then stopped to stare at the recent and contemporary LHCb experiment. Our guide was working on this particular experiment and was particularly enthusiastic about it.

They set up to collect only a certain type of particle within a specific angle of the collision, and only one side (left side for example), with as much precision as possible. So instead of using resources for both sides of the collision, they focus their tracking resources in getting as much data as possible from one side, trying to capture as accurately as possible half the amount of particle of interest. The trackers are the flat silicon panels on rails. The blue box is a magnet that deflects the particle, so that by measuring the deflection angle they can determine the momentum of the particle, and identify the particle by its energy...

As the tour came to a close and the 11 of us boarded the green elevator again, our guide kindly explained in layman's term the origin of the search for antimatter. And in my memory, it imprinted as follows:
-the conservation law by Einstein equation E=MC2 can be seen as Energy=Mass, overlooking the celerity
-by Mass however,  at high lever of Energy, it is composed of matter and antimatter
-the characteristics of the antimatter are what motivates the whole research

In this dieting age, it is very true: spend a lot of energy to create muscle and loose mass (of antimatter?)!

The end of summer at Mont Blanc

The high temperatures of August are becoming memories, and rain and wind are welcoming September. It is on this day that Darja and I are going to Mont Blanc. Yes, as if the landmark were an easy destination next door. I needed a bit of convincing from the other ladies to go, since I am in no shape to go climb some ice walls and walk in neck deep snow...all that in above 3000m altitude.

In fact, it turns out there is a relatively mundane access from Chamonix Mont Blanc. On today's weather, it is very cloudy and rainy, or snowy above 2000m, so we really didn't expect to claim the peak. Nevertheless I woke up at 6am again to go to the airport and wait for the shuttle she booked. After grabbing some breakfast at the arrival terminal, we had to wait for the other passengers. It was a bit strange to wait for a plane to land when you were not expecting anyone.

Instead of leaving at 8:15am, we finally drove off shortly before 10!!! In the van, someone had flown from Washington DC, some from Ohio...I was missing my bed...

We were dropped off in front of the funicular to the Aiguille du Midi at around 11am, and we checked the visibility from the webcams (none), the price and schedule, before wandering in Chamonix to get a feel of things and decide whether or not to go up there. Eventually we took our tickets and hopped on a rather full funicular.

We left the world of colour for a trip towards a thick, fluffy, silent fog, and ended up in a world where white prevails.

There are 2 funiculars to take, and on a clear day, there are many trails worth taking after the first funicular. But we were having a special day and visibility was not optimum and snow made every trail slippery. So we just aimed for the top of the funicular to get to the Aiguille du Midi, appearing in front of a shy white sun.

After taking in the effect of the altitude, and getting frozen by an mini blizzard, it was time to grab lunch. We first settled in the local cafeteria, but soon got ejected since picnic was forbidden. So we ate safran rice, bananas, dried figs, tomatoes, more rice and lots of tea in the funicular waiting room, while watching real brave climbers returning from their forays into the glacier, all dressed in red and wearing killer boots and brandishing spikes...ahem.

For digestion, we first climbed up to the souvenir shop, bought some postcard and settles on the bench outside the toilet to write our memories on the cards. A group of Japanese tourists (hum, I wasn't even surprised) assembled in front of us, after we let or seat to an old couple from Tokyo. We chatted a bit and they were impressed. I was more impressed I was getting more comfortable understanding either Japanese or Korean. It was funny how the tour guide took attendance by calling out everyone's names before setting out. I discovered that each group member had a headset, and the tour guide had a microphone and a radio to describe things instead of yelling out loud her surroundings. Of course, that also meant the members could disperse and wander about freely, to then regroup at her command. It is definitely more discreet that the usual umbrella holding or strange item holding to lead the group.

After we posted our cards, we ventured outside and took more photos of the different landmarks, enjoying the surreal presence of the fog everywhere we looked.

And because there was no visibility, we got to visit the actual construction on top of the Aiguille du Midi for free. There was first a small museum of mountaineering which was showing the different old apparels and tools used to build the funiculars into the rock,  then a short corridor carved into the rock leading to the elevator.  Once outside the elevator, more wind and snow awaited us, as well as the litle sign (unfortunately next to the rubbish bin).

After all the cold, we found a room with huge photos of the mountain chain, like giant postcards mirrorring what was outside the huge bay windows.

We could have stayed longer but it was already past 3pm and we still wanted to walk around Chamonix. So with a last look at the bright snow outside, we set out on our journey downward, across the poetic, magic fog. The trip down to town was as crowded, and we played soundtrack quiz to pass the time while being crushed to pulp in an over-packed metal box hanging from a metal cable over a growing snowy mountain.

Back at healthy breathing altitude, I was horrified to find out more runners were still trickling to the finish line of the ultra trail of Mont Blanc. Those people started running the previous night around 7pm, and were still thriving to get back to this finish line! We walked along the stream, meeting some runners on their way to the finish line, and we applauded them like every viewers. We even cheered for an unknown Japanese runner, only identified as such by the small Japan flag on his backpack. All in all they were all thin, dirty with mud, carrying 2 walking sticks, a backpack and bottle, a surely a dose of mental strength.

We just found a spot to walk on the dirt, and resume our chitchat about the different dramas we had watched.

As evening started to fall in Chamonix, we walked along the shopping street one more time, looking for a cozy coffee shop to rest and wait for our shuttle back. We found this cozy wooden shop in front of the funicular, and chatted about past lives for an hour before hopping into the van again and head back to Geneva airport. A look back provided us with a great view of the Mont Blanc and the Glacier.

Being friend and a godmother

I sometimes wonder if I'm not the worst friend: never calling, forgetting birthdays. My only redeeming feature is the obsession of sending my friends a postcard when I travel somewhere far and exotic. Which is the only regular correspondence I get to write these days to give some news to all my friends who are all over the places.

Of course, having friends nearby does not guarantee that we would hang out often, a J. told me in Newcastle. Everyone has their lives, their rhythm and it is difficult to meet up regularly,  Sex in the City style. So once a year I try to be a good friend and pay a visit. This time, I went to be a godmother as well, and meet my soon to be 3 year old godchild again.

He is going to pre-school in September and I racked my brain for something that could be useful but gave up with coloring book and stickers..I was looking for a blouse but all they had was plastic and vinyl blouses, which were very ugly.

I woke up at 5am on Saturday to take a 7:40 train to Aix en Provence to meet them, and M. was shy and pretending to sleep in the car until we got to the farmer's market and shopped for vegetables. S and C were as their usual calm and I really love their couple dynamic. Because the weather was scorching hot and it was high season for tourists on the beach, we waited until 18h to go to the beach and have a picnic.

 

We took the highway adin 30min we were in La Ciotat. We first headed towards the Figuerolles, which was accessible through a descent along fancy residentce and restaurant, and a view over the geological rock formation that was the local curiosity.

 

We didn't stay long and soon climbed back up to get to the other beach for the picnic. C took a dive in the 27C water, and M was playing at wetting rocks. We dined on chicken, cherry tomatoes, potato chips, grapes and melon. S was on a  day diet without fiber as she was to undergo a digestive endoscopy and other check ups, so she was on a rice and chicken and meringue diet.

We got back home satisfied and tired, took a nice hot shower and slept like a rock until Sunday 7a, when my body clock impulsively woke me up, despite the absence of any sound I could then hear M. babbling to his parents. But I stayed in bed until I felt too hot and th toilet was calling. After a breakfast on freshly baked pain au chocolat, M and I worked on collecting pine balls when his Mom were doing some real gardening. It was my bonding time with the little man, and we did play nice. We checked the swimming pool temperature, which was only 26C, so we waited till the afternoon to play in the pool.

C came back from his regular Sunday mountain bike excursion, we hung the laundry in the blazing sun, we picked (and ate) some late strawberries and tomatoes for lunch, and soon we had to send C to buy meat for the bbq. While C prepared for lunch, S and I tuned her harp that C made for her, and we tried to play some of her old pieces. I even tried to accompany her while she sung her old motets. It was the first time I played the harp, and the first time we attempted to make music together, but it felt great!

Lunch was the scene of some discipline drama for M, who was punished for not obeying. It was the first time I saw S yell and be that angry....After lunch we all had a nap...

After the nap, before M finished his, we took a dip int he pool to get refreshed before everyone would pack for Monday again. 

Sundays are great, really...and I miss them already.

Summer at the beach...

We worked together in London, and we babbled in Japanese to practice the little words we knew then. Since then, she lived 4 years in Sydney, Australia, travelled South Asia, and got back to Germany this year. I was so happy to get in touch with her again, and it's one of those surprises in life.

She left me her sewing set, her straw and flower hats, her Christmas decorations when she left London, and it is with anxious curiosity that I wonder if I should give them back to her, in their very used state.

She endured much personal drama away from her family and I was trying my best to be cheerful and playful while we hung out on a beautiful sunny and windy Sunday. We hopped in her friend's car and drove to Excevenex, on the lake after my future apartment, and admired the kite surfers and windsurfers while catching up.

There was enough sun and wind to make us feel like we were at the ocean, as the waves kept crashing again the sand and grass. The Dutch ladies (Famke and Al) were tanning, while Wu and I  were napping and gossiping about old colleagues. It was an atmosphere of vacation, 30min drive from home, and Wu said she almost felt like she was back in Oz. I was enchanted to discover the beach so near to my soon to be built apartment, and for the first time, actually wished to be forwarded 2 years later...

As the evening approached, people started to leave, stomachs started to growl. Being a Sunday there was no nearby grocery store to grab a picnic, and all the farmer's markets already packed and closed. After a last look at the die hards on the water, and the Dent D'oche in the background which gave me some trouble, we decided to look for food as well.

So we roamed along the beach to check the menu of the different beach-side restaurants, and settled on a place that had a cover band, and an appealing roasted ham.

We waited more than an hours with a drink, because the ham wasn't cooked yet. When our plates came with a serving of ham and gratin dauphinois, we stopped singing along with the band and became so engrossed with the food that we didn't speak until everything was finished. The fact that it was much cheaper than anything we could have fond in Switzerland was also adding taste to the food! I was game for another serving of ham but decided to keep some space for dessert. However, Famke right away asked if it was possible to get seconds...! I was speechless again and happy she took the initiative, and so we ate another serving of honey roasted ham...Yiipeee!

We still got crepe and waffle for dessert, just to follow through the feeling of vacation and doing whatever we wanted to do. The buzz would lift us through our way back to Geneva, where the proximity and the reality of Monday morning was starting to sink in...

 Wu got reacquainted with her stuff she left me, and I bet it felt like when I came back to Raleigh and noticed the things I used to have...a memory of past lives...

Let's hike! My survival trip to 2000m

And so I woke up excited to start my first ever hiking trip. I bought comfortable shoes that cost me a kidney and 2h deciding, a 22L backpack that has back ventilation, middle pocket and more, lots of hiking pants, and a walking stick. For sure they were not only for this day, but also for future hikes and the trip in September. I even got a 2L camel bag.

A&S picked me off at 7:45am on a beautiful cloudless morning. We then picked up Lily as well an drove to France towards Bernex. In the car we talked about fainting, accidents, first aids and many more scary things. We could see our destination from afar: la Dent d'Oche. Although I was anxious, I brought enough to survive in case I decided to get lost: Swiss knife, 6 cereal bars, 2L water in the camel bag, first aid kit, a dynamo torch lamp, my fully charged mobile, an apple, 2 packs of tissues, my VT  fleece jacket,  a change of pants (one of the hikers pants), and a walking stick. I was probably missing the emergency flares....

Two other couples joined us and I had to relieve myself on the parking lot before starting on the path that was more has 20% sloped upward with rocks. They warned me the first part was difficult. I huffed and puffed and used my old lady cane as best I could, stopping every so often but advancing nonetheless. The boys were having a  chat while walking behind me, while I was struggling and focusing on where to put my foot next.

After the rocky slopes under the shades of pin trees, we finally emerged onto a valley between 2 beautiful green sloped mountains, where cuddly cows were ringing their bells merrily and refreshing my numbed mind.

We had to go through electrified fences, more rocky paths to finally get to a water point, almost 1h30 after our start from the parking lot. The water was so fresh I washed my head until I got a brain freeze. We had climbed about 400m and it was decision time for the group: go straight for the peak and eat there or go for the lake, have a meal and split there.

So we went for the meal first, and 2h later we were eating at about 500m from where we started.

During the meal, I reasoned that I would also try for the peak since I've been thus far, and also because there would not be another opportunity to go for it: just thinking back at the huffing and puffing would surely not motivate me to come back!

So after a short lunch break where everyone took off their shoes to asphyxiate innocent mountain fauna an flora, we were back on our feet, and climbing hard for the other 500m. We met many other trekkers running down the mountain after seeing the top, and encouraging me. It was more difficult since I wasn't as fresh, and although i coul manage my breath, I was afraid my legs would give in. But I made it to the 2000m to see the lake and Montreux on one side, and the Alps and Mont Blanc on the other side, surrounded by cute mountain goats.

The peak was still out of reach but we soon headed for it,  only to be told back by the boys that it was too dangerous and that even they would not go through. So we got back down the mountain disappointed, but also happy to go back and enjoy the walk down. Our enjoyment soon changed into pain as our toes were taking our weight in the downward slopes. At least there was no way of getting out of breath.

The guys came across the path to climb to the peak form another side and went for it. We ladies came down to the water point to rest and get refreshed before returning to the parking lot with the promise of ice cream. We eventually saw the guys giving signs on the peak and starting to walk down the mountain. So we left as well, arguing that they would catch up with us anyway. And sure enough when we got back to the pine forest, there they were!

We took an easier path down to the parking lot, and exchanging the trekking shoes for flip flop made it so worthwhile! Some hike for the view, some hike for the challenge of going to the top, and some hike to feel that relief of taking your shoes off...I hiked to test the equipment I bought at first, but also glad to have accomplished such a seemingly impossible task for me.

Relaxing around an ice cream cup each, they told me they were impressed I didn't give up because it was a difficult trek for a beginner. I was a bit vexed because the thought never crossed my mind. But it also reminded me how strong I can be despite my initial fears: if I take it slowly, catch up my breath and have enough water, I can do it.

We all yelled at A for tricking us into doing this hike, since she told us she did it with her mom. We also joked that the next days would be the most painful days...But the memory of the view is soothing enough...I might not have been to the 2100m top, but reaching 2000m after a 1000m altitude hike was my first hiking achievement.

I have started training and I will hike more...next month:P
I got home at 8pm, showered and crashed into a deep sleep.

An ice cream and a show

Juggling of a football, climbing of a street lamp, impromptu band singing on the steps of Sacre Coeur, opportunists selling bottles of beer under the sunny Paris sky, and us enjoying the view with ice cream and a chat.

Meet Jeff, of Montmartre

While on a layover in Paris, I made a lunch appointment with Laeti to bring her swimming towels she forgot last summer. She had a small studio at the foot of Montmartre, in the IXeme arrondissement, and I was happy to visit a new area of Paris. From the metro Notre Dame de Lorette, we grabbed a small lunch in a Chinese restaurant in her street, and walked leisurely towards the Sacre Coeur, seen here and there between the buildings.

The weather was somewhat sunny and not warm enough to make us sweat, due to a chilly wind lingering under the shades. We strolled slowly, window shopped, caught up on work and the election results. She showed me the cafe des 2 moulins, from the movie Amelie, and we admired the rooftop gardens and the view on Paris from the heights of the streets. I also took note of the different eateries and bakeries along the way, reminding myself I was not hungry.

After a nice windmill at a corner (le moulin de la Galette, which inspired the painting by Renoir), which is now an expensive garden restaurant, my eyes suddenly were staring with fascination at a window displaying an amazingly detailed maquette of a ranch. Inside, someone was motioning invitedly and opened the door. I hesitantly entered the gallery, while whispering to Laeti how I always end up in weird situations like these.

I was fascinated by the maquette, and he seemed eager to find out whether we were artists, which we were not. But he played on my vanity and insisted I was one, since I write, sometimes paint int he middle of the night, and play music (for only myself). He described the maquette in details, indicating the inside of the cabin, which has  dining table with drawers, and inside there are things too, or how the moss is growing, and that it is a hobby of his to make this little ranch. It is a maquette of about 2x1m and the details extend to the mouse in the rocks of the well, or the bird's nest in the tree that contains eggs, or the toilet paper roll in the toilet outside the cabin.

And much like the expat American that he is, he invited us in the back of the shop, where a sunny room with a chimney was occupied by the double bed, and the back garden was seen through old Provencal ceiling to floor windows. Outside had an air of south of France, with a "ceci n'est pas un cafe" colorful store referring to René Magritte's "ceci n'est pas une pipe".  It didn't feel like Paris, wit Bob the cat shyly evading our caresses between pots of plants of a cozy English garden.

He said the backyard kept him sane and brings him joy and calm. I understood and agreed with his point of view, and could only marvel at his achievement of getting this haven of peace and quiet in the middle of Paris. His encounter was one that I remember for his  detailed ranch, which I could look at for hours.

While leaving Jeff's gallery, I was somehow struck with this thought:
" My ideal man would fascinate me this much, in his work and peculiarity, his passion, and artistry"

I was glad Jeff was married and too old to my taste, because I am still superficial despite my nerdiness....

An exercise in focus

As the days go by, monotonous and unnoticed, it was refreshing to suddenly concentrate all my focus in one single small task: balancing.

On a week holiday at a waterpark resort, I was tempted by the thrill of treetop adventure. However, after seeing how high the circuit was, and witnessing another group crossing platform after platform with worried looks, I became deflated and even sick in the stomach.

Nonetheless, because I initiated the idea, and because there would be no other time to try it, I went ahead and climbed last. I was worried about getting dizzy and fear the heights, so much that my legs felt like cotton before I even climbed the first wobbly stairs.

In a matter of minutes, it became clear that it wasn't at all what I expected. I was awaiting nausea and fear from the heights, but what welcomed me was pure physical effort in climbing the stairs while swaying and being restricted by my pants and shortness of leg. In addition, my arms had to pull me all the way up, and I had to find a grip comfortable enough to be repeated endlessly and hold me for a while. When I stepped foot on the first platform, my breath was taken away from the effort, as well as my strength, but I told myself not to give up. After all, kids were doing it in the morning, so I had to work myself up for the challenge.

It was interesting that I didn't even look down once, to see how high it was. I was instinctively attracted by the tree trunk, which I hugged and kept close while I proceeded to the next path. My eyes were fixated on the cable to cross to get to the next platform. I could hear encouragement ad jokes down below me, but they were easily blocked as soon as I set foot on that cable. From all that remained in my focus was the cable, my feet, and my breath.

For the remaining of the next 45-50min, I would look only at the green ropes, wooden plank and cables that I had to cross. Each gesture was carefully executed with a conscious breath out, while my brain was counting 1 to 10 at each breath. Funnily enough, I felt strangely reassured by the counting, and a wild sense of achievement was always felt after the number 10, even if I was in the middle of the air, mid-cable or mid-circuit.

I experienced a brain blank at the 3rd exercise, but a suggestion from the instruction below helped and I was soon back to counting. There were some exercises that could be done by just walking on cables instead of swinging the rope or climbing the wall. Although I found it exciting to try, I always opted for the cable, reasoning that at least there was something below my feet.

That feeling was challenged at the rope sliding exercise. I could not talk myself into letting go of the ground. Eventually I listened to someone suggesting to just sit down and let harness support me. Zab was also waiting for me across the rope, so I let go and made it to the next platform, to be told there were 2 more of these before the end...

 

As the obstacles appeared, my body and mind would work really hard to focus and balance. I forgot I had a harness and every step was to advance to the next platform. I realize now I did not even see the surrounding landscape. But after every exercise, I would let go of all my breath and relax all my muscles, as if I was about to faint, before focusing on the next obstacle.

I haven't been focusing so hard ever, so it was very rewarding to learn how I reacted and what I do in such stressful situation. My mind is a strange thing, content to count form 1 to 10 to abstract everything else but the task at hand, partitioned into tiny gestures that suddenly have its importance: the sliding of a foot, the bending of knees, the breathing out (I cannot remember when I breath in!).

I hope to be able to enjoy the landscape, the next time I climb or trek an have to challenge the height, lack of air, and physical effort involved.

Golf practice at Maison Blanche

About an hour away from Geneva, at the foot of the Jura, we got to practice at Maison Blanche golf club, with a view on The Alps. We finished off with a dinner at the club's restaurant, overlooking the sunset reflection on the Saleve...

Halloween in Brittany

And more photots here and here.

Tartiflettes and Génépi

About 1h30 by bus from Geneva, we got to Annecy, a pretty small clean old city with a pleasant paved old town area and canals that lead to the purestand cleanest lake in Europe: lake Annecy.

The idea of the trip was to window shop and eat. So we wandered about the Sunday market, making a mental note of the different cheese stands and the million types of saucissons. It was quite painful to walk past all the food and not being able to make a decision on what to buy. We were quite reasonable though and didn't even taste a single sample!!

Getting lost along the small streets, we were really looking for a place to sample the local fare: tartiflette. To those unaccustomed to the dish, it is not something you would eat if you were on a diet. Made of potatoes, and usually bacon and cheese (Reblochon) it is quite easy to make. I have made it a few times myself, because trust me, my pants size didn't increase by itself.

1-cook the potatoes and bacon a bit
2-put in a baking pan
3-put the cheese on top
4-cook in the oven until its melted and all gooyey
5-serve hot

We eventually found one restaurant calle the 'Munich' that served tomatoe tartiflette and goat cheese tartiflette. As you may guess, those were just additional ingredients....Imagine eating potaoes and bacon and 500g of melted cheese....feels good and heavy. We had to sit for an additional 30min chatting to digest and be able to move.

About 15minutes alter though, we stumbled on an ice cream shop that had yummy sorbet: I had a scoop of grapefruit and another one of passion fruit. We kept on walking in order to discover more shops, and so I discovered Génépi in one of those tourist trap shop. It was the perfect digestif after 800g of good food.

By 4pm we were by the lake and embarked on a 30min cruise. The weather was nice (about 16C) and no wind, so we sat outside, which was a mistake because once the boat picked up speed, the wind froze my face and the sight of the beautiful autumn leaves became secondary to protecting my eyes and nose from icy winds.

After that less than warm experience, nature blessed us with a beautiful sunset reflected on the white rocks and cliffs surrounding the lake. The setting sun reminded us of the time and so we hurried back in the shopping area for a crepe and cider before heading back to Geneva. We weren't really hungry, but it would have been a crime not to have one.

Annecy will definetely see a bit of me in the future.