The Alps: Part 1

Dimanche: 22 fevrier

I went snowshoeing in the Alps today. It was incredible. Incredible doesn’t cover it. I would stop, and just look around, just to try to take in everything around me. It is one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen nature do. The best part, I didn’t have my camera.
Correction: I had my camera, but it didn’t have a battery. I hate to be so accusatory, but when it comes to an action that results in someone missing what could be a once in a lifetime opportunity to photograph some of the most breathtaking and famed landscape on the planet (I don’t think I’m over-glorifying the Alps that much, I mean, they are the Alps), then I feel I have just cause to be a little remorselessly angry. The story: Last night, Quentin decided it would be a kind gesture to charge the battery of my camera. So I see him pop the battery out, and this surprises me, I say, “Qu’est-ce que tu fait?” (What are you doing) and he explains that he’s going to charge the battery. I try as best as I can to make clear that it is entirely unnecessary as the battery is full. And it was. I see him put it back in. I guess he popped it out again when I wasn’t paying attention and threw it in the charger. Again, a generally nive gesture, however he didn’t actually plug the charger in. (I have American plugs for my chargers, and one converter, which the lappy was using). Thinking that I was going to sky today I didn’t bring the camera, I was afraid I’d break one of the many times I was bound to fall. However, the plan was to go snowshoeing (faire des racquettes, or something). We stopped at the house, condo, rental area place briefly to drop of the skis we’d rented too, so they weren’t left in the car. I took this opportunity to scootle on upstairs and snatch my shutterbox, then it was out of the house in a flash. So, we get to the stop. I’m wearing sunglasses, which I’m in no way used to, and I have to take them off. There was no way I was going to see what I was going to see through filters. Immediately I wanted to start taking pictures. At first I think it’s funny that the camera doesn’t turn on: I figure it’s because of my borrowed gloves that are awkward, stiff and bulky. I take them off and when it still doesn’t turn on I recall with horror the happenings the previous night that I’ve just recounted. I open the bottom and say “Quentin! Òu est la battery!?” I immediately feel bad because he had already gotten in trouble for losing one of his gloves. But I was pissed, excuse my language, but I was. So I left the camera in the car and tried not to make too many comments about how beautiful everything was, and if only I had a camera. If you feel like that is an immature or snide way to behave, see the beginning of this paragraph.
I will, however, have my camera the rest of the week. I believe we will be snowshoeing again, but I think it’ll be at night by torchlight or something. Awesome, but not the most photogenic of events. But thoroughly awesome. And not the weenie synonym for cool, but I’m sure it will inspire awe. You can look forward to seeing plenty of scenery and essentially no pictures of me. I didn’t bring my snow gear because frankly I’d didn’t think February through July was going to wield enough occasions of need to warrant spending that much weight and space in my already overweight suitcase. The rest of the family all has their cool, personal gear, and I have what the cousin grew out of and left behind. It’s a robin’s egg blue, light lime green, and pasty yellow jumpsuit.
Now, I don’t want to complain. I really hate to do that, considering the incredible experience and the great wealth of generosity that’s been sent my way. I am grateful and thankful for everything. I’m having a good time, enjoying myself, and participating as much as I can. That being said, let me repeat myself: a robin’s egg blue, light lime green, and pasty yellow jumpsuit. Every time I put it on, Thomas laughs at me, using the French words for “ridiculous” and “clown” (which is the same as the English version, just said differently). But it keeps me warm as I trek through gorgeous mountain terrain, so at least I have something.
Fondue: we ate it for dinner. It was delicious but I have a little bit of a stomach ache now. Tonight was the melty cheese one where you dip bread in. Two nights ago was the boiling oil one you dip raw pieces of steak and it cooks them. That is delicious. Matty, I’m going to make it for you sometime, I’m sure you’d like it. The odd thing was, the oil is made from the seeds of grapes. The seeds of grapes. That’s like drinking a glass of water collected from the dew which dripped from the first harvest of the wild lemons. How many grapes does one need to obtain enough seeds to make enough oil to fill two fondue pots? I figure they’ve got plenty of grapes getting squished around here anyways (unfortunately, I dislike French alcohol the same as American), they probably started squeezing seeds from boredom. Then when oil came out…they decided t boil it…and dip meat into it? I guess? I don’t have internet here, so I can’t verify that story, but it seems likely so I’m going to go with it.
And now, I sleep.

Taylor en France