As you may have noticed from some new pictures I uploaded, I finally got myself over and into the heart of the Alpes. Two weeks ago, on a whim, I traveled to Chamonix to try skiing for the first time. Now while I'd like to think of myself as moderately athletic, I have to admit that when it comes to snow related sports, I'm less than gifted. In fact, I'm down right pathetic on any ski slope of any kind. I've tried snowboarding a couple of times and was quite content with my effort. But all in all as many of you might know, I don't exactly like activities that mix speed with high altitudes. Nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoy pushing myself to my physical limits every now and then, especially when I can do so in one of the most beautiful parts of the world.

     While I'm trying to teach myself not to have too many expectations of how certain cities or places should look before I visit, every now and then the places I see are dead on with the image I've conjured in my imagination. Overall, the Alps were exactly what I expected or have seen in various old movies, such as my beloved Hepburn favorite "Charade."

     So early Sunday morning, we headed out to rally the group and make our way to Chamonix, a three hour ride away from Besançon.  It took us a bit of time to get the group all together, but once on the road the view made up for any time lost. Truthfully, the Alps are breathtaking.  As we reached Lausanne, a view of the mountains appeared surrounded by a lake-side city. And while the sky was still a bit cloudy, by the time we got to the ski slopes the sky had cleared to a crystal blue. Honestly, I couldn't have asked for better weather.  

     Decked out in my friend's old ski attire, the group all gave me their words of wisdom to help me down the mountain.  I thought the altitude might be a bit much for me to handle, but the ride up the ski lift was absolutely amazing.  So one problem I found with learning to ski is that you get a lot of advice on how you should feel and move your body and you end up thinking maybe a bit too much.  While it's good to know some key aspects on how to move your body to stop and turn, it's also hard to think while trying to feel balanced and comfortable on a slippery slope.  It's also especially difficult to think about all the things you should be doing with your body to avoid falling by translating advice given to you in French. 

     Luckily, my friend Max and Antoine waited for me all the way down switching into English to give my brain a break while my body worked overtime.  A couple of times, Antoine teaching me how to control my speed and slow down had me hold on to his coat and follow him down keeping a certain distance. Unfortunately, at this point I wasn't learning quickly enough and ended up taking a tumble, bringing Antoine along with me and almost placing my ski uncomfortably up his bum.  No worries, no major injuries were endured. 

     All in all, the day was absolutely breath-taking, in more ways than one.  I ended up going down the slope twice before taking a break with the group and grabbing a beer at the chalet. While I never fully grasped the concept of switching directions, by the end of the day I could successfully slow myself down and steer myself gradually. What I will never understand though is how people dress fashionably for skiing, or any sport for that matter. This perplexes me especially considering by the end of the day every one of my baggy layers was soaked from sweat and did nothing for my female silhouette what so ever. Tant pis, who gives a crap! 

     And a week later, I can say I am quite proud of my beautiful blue and purple bruises. I show them off like proud battle wounds or shark bites (yes that was a "Jaws" reference). I would include a picture, but that might be a bit too risque for this blog.

     While I would like to say the whole day ended perfectly, I should recount as well that on my way home via train, ten minutes away from Montbéliard, I realized I left my keys in my coat pocket, which happened to still be at my friend's house, an hour away back in Besançon. Arriving in Montbéliard at 11pm, there was no way I could call my landlady or have my friend come to give me my keys. So, instead I crashed chez Susie and Rene (my Canadian friends) and opted to skip work Monday morning to recuperate. Oh what a life!

Enjoy the pictures!