Skiing and sickness in Morzine

So after we arrive in Morzine, one of the guests leaving, we sat at a long 9ft dinner table with a plat and a table full of baguettes and fine french cheeses. I remember a story about a ripe cheese and lysteria infections, I tried it, but hedged my bets, much like eating shellfish, you never know when that last bite gets you sick. We settled down that evening for champaign and frois grois, then dinner,pork sausages and fried potato balls, oh and some lovely red wine. I slept like a baby waiting for fresh snow in the morning.

In the night I awoke to the most aweful sound any skier can hear, other than a breaking bone... RAIN. It must have rained for at least three hours. I was sooooo bummed out. I had already rented my gear the evening before and the thought of skiing in the rain reminded me of the good old days of Big Bear. I hadnt travelled to the famed French Alps to compare the snow to Los Angeles... but it seems I did. Then the next sound you never want to hear... "I dont feel good," followed shortly by heaving and splashing in a plastic trash can. I listened until she was over the hump and took the can, flushed the contents, rinsed, then back to bed to sleep while Jen wondered which cheese or which child got her sick.

The morning was dry but the clouds sat heavy in the sky, just like Jen's stomach in her gut. Jen was going to have to tolerate another day of kids with Florence and Elise and Vincent even being as sick as she was. Fortunately Vincent was a doctor and prescribed some antiemtics and pain/cramping meds and I ran down to the pharmacy with my favorite phrase in mind "Je no pal pas francais." 8€ for her meds and back I went praying for no rain and a dramatic drop in temperature. It was about 40F as Niko and I got our gear together and bolted for the hills.

I think we got up two lifts before the rain started. We decided early it was going to be a short day, and it was. By the time we left the mountain the snow level had dropped a bit, it was snowing at the top of the first lift, about an inch an hour and at the top of the mountain it was dumping. When we got down to the bottom, after skiing past some horses at the first plateau, I had to ring out my gloves three times and all of our clothes were hung to dry next to the furnace.

From Morzine, France

Jen was locked in her room with her head spinning circles. Fortunately the medicine was working.

I sat down after skiing for some bread and cheese.

Appetizer was more frois grois. Dinner was pasta and Niko was in trouble for saying that you never mix gnocchi with farfalle. Oh, and some lovely red wine. Jen was bolted in her room, couldnt move and ready, with any movement, to barf again.

The next morning, after another restless sleep, I got up to rally Vincent and Elise for a day at Avoriaz. We walked to the Gondola and up we went for the time of my life. They started slow and we took the initiative to get across the alps into switzerland, take the long road round the back, below Dents Blanches and then ski hard back into Avoriaz, then the bus home. The clouds socked us in good. Then suddenly, they parted... horizontally. As I pulled out the camera, the run went from misty with a sliver of blue across the horizon, to clear with clouds above and below. Vincent and Elise went down for the last run. I was pooped, I fell on ice ran over dirt and pulled my boots off the second we were down.

From Morzine, France

Appetizers were bread and cheese, frois grois and champaign, then into Raclette for dinner with a grille on the table and Jen on the couch watching the fun. At least she was down stairs now.

From Morzine, France

The kids were having a great time as we were wrapping up our day and telling our stories of the low-ceiling swiss chalet and great snow at the top. We woke in the am to pack and get ready to leave, the sky was dramatic and the air crisp.

To Dole we went.

Travelling to Morzine, France

You would think that saving a few hundred bucks and taking the trains across Europe on a Eurail Pass would be worth it. I may have to disagree, eventhough I spent the 100€ each on a 2 person sleeper car, just to be comfortable and sleep well. Both Jen and I thought that an overnight train would be a great way to get across France.

Itinerary
Train 1: Amsterdam to Basel SBB
Train 2: Basel SBB to Geneve
Tram: Geneve to Geneve Aux Vives
Train 3: Geneve Aux Vives to Annemasse
Train 4: Annemasse to Thonon (Planned)
Bus: Thonon to Morzine


Let's see, how did this go...
1. Got to Amsterdam Centraal with 1hr to departure. Left Jen in a restaurant to eat while I went to validate our Eurail Pass and find out what platform to depart. The line was long and I waited for about 35 minutes. Finally got back to the restaurant and Jen hadn't ordered, she was waiting for me, we rushed an order and the check and tried to choke down as much food and wit bier as we could in 15 minutes. We walk back downstairs, across the station, upstairs and wait by a train going to Munich, where we were confused. Then verified we were indeed going to the correct place if on correct, assigned car (detaches and retaches in night).

2. Funny steward told us that other American's angry that after 6000 miles of travel they get on a european train only to be served sierra valley Gallo wine. I drank mine and Jen's, then off to sleep. Should have had a dramamine with the wine because without fail I couldn't sleep deeply. So there I was in a bed rocking and rolling all night long only to get up, take some weird closet shower, eat my croissant and tea, then jump off the train after the police go running past me in the corridor.

From Morzine, France

3. Arrive in Basel on 2 hours of sleep and navigate an unfamiliar station. So tired, I don't really remember what it was like. All I remember is that we had to go up some stairs, read the board, orient to the tracks, down some stairs, on to another track and chuck the bags onto the other train, doors close and off we go.

4. Arrive in Geneve after a 2 hour scenic lake-side travel and get TOTALLY LOST. Now we were in deep. Everyone spoke french and I had no idea what anything read or what anyone said. We had 40 minutes to try to eat and traverse to Geneve Aux Vives. We could not find any signs or information on how to get there. Finally, Jen rose up and got her french on and got us oriented to the Tram Info desk and we found out: number 16 tram for 3€. It took us about 10 minutes to find the tram stop, after buying a croissant and a coffee in the station and listening to a french woman tell us she cried on 9/11 abruptly after telling Jen her french was horrible. We zig-zag across the front of the station and find the right tram stop. The tram was just about to go and we opened door... I immediately turned and ran to the ticket kiosk and well, in the time it took me to find the francs in my pocket the tram took off. So we waited. The next car came in like 5 minutes, whew.

From Morzine, France

5. Arrive at some forgotten train stop on some brick lined street after passing watch shop after clock shop and we are lost. No signs to the Gare (Train Station). Jen gets up guts and asks a french granny for directions. We pass down an old street and left round a corner... there is the station, so small, that driving a car I'd have missed it. We walk in, confused I realize that through a window I can see our train. With one minute to go, I walk in to an office, show a man our itinerary, he points vigorously at the train, runs to the door, and shoes us across the tracks speaking in tongues. We literally throw the bags on, put them in the rack, and before we had our coats off the train was on its way. I think it was 85 degrees F on that train, it was disgusting, fortunately, only 15 minutes to Annemasse.

6. Arrive in Annemass. We ask a conductor for directions/information on how to get to Thonon. Our original itinerary was to go to Cluses, but Florence discovered that buses ran only every 3 hours and we would miss the bus and have to wait in Cluses forever. So, we asked the conductor, how do we get to Thonon where a bus would be waiting. He said, Go to Track A, get on the back of the train, it will go one way and the front another. We were told to go to St Germain, well I didn't pull out a map and it sounded reasonable. Don't go to Evian he said. Fair enough, to track A we went. We were sitting there, I was wiping the dog shit off my boot and wheel of my suitcase and a train arrived. All the people waiting at track A had now gone to C where the train sat. I go and look at the screen and realized the track's changed. Jen can't run, so I go bolting off with both suitcases. I was swimming upstream on the stairs with all the arrivees congesting the entire area. I clobbered a couple people, yelled back at jen, and off we went to jump, one more time, onto a train. This time however, we got to the train, it started to move, eventhough conductors all outside, and with the train moving I chuck jens bag onto the car and I jump on with mine in hand and reach my other hand out to Jen. The train stopped. Jen get's on, we get seated and WAIT. Turns out they were just detaching the two halves, one to Evian the other to St Germain. It was hot on the train, I was sweaty, and now, just laughing at the whole thing. We proceed deep up a mountain valley and thinking we were going lakeside again, but rather somehow going up the other side, we were confused when it seemed Thonon was never going to arrive. Then we hear it, Cluses. Damn, we went the wrong way, got the wrong information, and should have been on the Evian train. haha.

7. Arrive in Cluses (Klooss). We walk immediately to the information booth. Jen talking about food and needing to sit. I just wanted to get our tickets and a time-table first. We met a man that spoke no english, sent us inside to buy our bus tickets. Inside we were sent outside to buy our bus tickets. As we step out the door, the bus was just backing up. In small marker print, at the bottom of a list, in the window, I read MORZINE. I go waving my arms and he stops the bus, pulls back into the parking spot, takes us onboard, sells us each a bus ticket and off we go, up the steep windy roads, Jen no food and nauseaus and me smiling at the volumes of snow on the trees as we ascend the mountain.

From Morzine, France

8. Arrive in Morzine. Niko was supposed to be waiting for us. We waited at the bus area next to the tourist office for almost an hour standing in the cold snow. Turns out he was waiting at the intra-resort bus stop and we were at the inter-city stop. Finally we come across him, he says, oh we will be at the house in a minute, then takes us to the ski-school and we, again, wait in the snow for another 15 minutes or so, this time in the shade. I was done at this point! Finally we make it back to the house. Starving and ready for a serious meal, we had bread and bread and bread and cheese and cheese and cheese. I was stoked, but later we would find out that Jen is not so good with the ripe cheese.

From Morzine, France

--

And well... Yeah, it was worth it!
We agree that an overnight train is a great way to get across France.

New Years Hangover

The sounds of a crying baby made us perfectly aware that as a parent, or even a friend of a parent, a major headache and lack of sleep can very easily drive you mad as your child cries from diaper rash and three poops in the night.

Morning came too soon and Henri and Sophia and Tigo, asleep on the floor when we came in, were now awake and after kicking his cold the day before were ready to take us to see tulips and the dunes. FORGET IT!

I went back to bed three times after trying to get up. They had to carry all their things down the stairs in multiple trips without me. I was in no condition to come back up six flights of spiralling stairs as the song in my head played norwegian death metal accompanied by the rockets blasting from the night before. A motrin and a glass of juice, I layed down my last time. I didnt even hear them leave. I think it was the lack of a crying/upset Tigo that made me wake up. Made some lunch, then back for a nap. Up for dinner, then to bed for a good sleep.

Tomorrow, mellow day, then in the evening, off to France for some skiing on the Swiss border.

Wish us luck.

New Years Eve

Amsterdam on New Year's Eve is probably the most amazing single party I have ever attended. During the day Jen and I finally got out for a bit. We were trying to find this café Sophia was telling us about, we think we found it, but it was busy. We walked further up the street and found the MOST amazing Balinese artwork store. Jewelry, tapestries, furniture, and so on. We headed farther west and ate at a little pub on the corner. We had terrific tomato soup and sandwiches.

We headed off to walk around and ended up in Dam Square. There was a stage for bands and it was FULL of young people. It was truly hard to walk around there. We headed west into the thick of the red light district passing coffee shop after coffee shop. We made a right turn and Jen got her first glimpse of the women in trade. Back to Newmarkt and to have a pint. Then back to the apartment to prepare for dinner and a late night.

Fireworks blasting everywhere in the distance. We searched for fireworks, but could not find any. We learned later that you have to go to hardware stores. Next time!

Henri and Sophia and little Tigo came to the apartment about 6. Sophia tried to get cooking but Tigo was a bit people shy and had to keep him entertained while Henri drove 5 miles away to park.

Dinner was a mushroom risotto, lamb, and sauteed spinach. It was really tasty. After a few beers and some wine with dinner, the Möet was opened and a few toasts were made. In the distance the fireworks became more and more intense. I had to get out there. It was pissing with rain when we left the apt at 10min to 12. As we walked into the square at midnight, the rain just plain stopped. There must have been 5000 people in NewMarkt, I dont even want to know what Dam was like!

Anyway, we got blasted by fireworks, hailed on by burning debris, and drank our champaign with thousands of others doing exactly the same.

We decided to walk around and I had to pee. I found a nice canal to exploit with a line of other men doing the same. We then walked to the crooked house and as we walked up to the door the sign in the window read Private Party. As we turned to leave, the doorman (also the owner) opened the door and let us in. Everyone was standing and drinking and laughing and telling stories, all in dutch, so all the tables were free. Now, mind you, this was 2am. We sat, ordered a pint from Jesse, our new bartender friend, and then the place began to fill up. Soon enough coats were all over the chairs and benches and it was standing room only. We met some nutty dutch men and proceeded to get a first hand account of how to roll a joint, dutch style. After Jerome explained he will probably get kicked out for that, we got another round of beers. At about 4am, this guy was introduced to me. He is off to Hawaii to surf. Have Fun!

At 4:30am, we turned in. In the background, fireworks still blasting away and laughs and shouts of merry men and women saw us into daylight.

Amsterdam - New Year's Eve