The Damn French

My sweetheart and I just returned from a short weekend in Chamonix. The best thing about England is you can tell your friends back in the colonies, "Oh yes we just got back from weekending in Chamonix". Mr. Jeopardy has been talking about skiing with a colleague from work who is from France for months. I have been half listening and picking out bits and pieces such as: guide, glacier run, crevasses, roping down the first ridge etc. I have ignored all of this talk until last week when he told me that they just checked the weather and it was a go! He then said, "honey are you sure you do not want to try it?" I asked him if his life insurance was paid up for an answer.

Later, I heard him again on the phone with his friend from work discussing the trip. "No, it's probably best that she stay in the village, she can shop. Well, her anxiety is a little high." Mr. Jeopardy is such a sugar coater. What he really means is that in all likelihood once I got to the summit and looked down I would freak out and after promising the divorce papers would be in the mail I would then need to be choppered off the mountain. I did a little research about his glacier trip once he booked our airfare and this is what I found-

The Vallée Blanche expedition could be more appropriately called ski mountain-eering than simple skiing. Go prepared for changing weather and changing terrain: the weather in town may be balmy, with a howling wind at the top of the Aiguille du Midi and zero visibility. Be ready for freezing, windy weather. Pack goggles or mountain-eering glasses, good gloves, a warm jacket with a hood if possible, and your ski hat.
You start by climbing—roped to your guide and holding your skis tied together—down a narrow windy ridge. At the end of the ridge, you break the tether with the guide and, sheltered from the wind, step into your skis. Groups are separated from one another by several hundred meters. You may be skiing on trails for a time, then turn off for powder if your guide finds it. Sometimes the trail simply ends, which means climbing over rocks or ice chunks with your skis on your shoulder or balancing over a snowbridge spanning a deep crevasse.The mountains surrounding you are all famous in the annals of climbing. The Vallée Blanche starts on the upper, smooth portion of the glacier. As it begins to break up and crevasses block the route, skiers sideslip down narrow chutes in a region called the Seracs. At the end of the Seracs and after almost two hours descending on skis, there is often a stop at the Refuge du Requin for a warm drink. From the refuge the run enters a wide-open area called the Salle à Manger (dining room).
The needlelike Aiguille des Drus, with Europe’s longest climbing vertical, towers above the glacier. From this point the Mer de Glace begins its drop into the valley. As the glacier ends, another refuge, Les Mottets, offers snacks and drinks. Then it’s back into the town, the entire trip having taken all day. Although guides are not required, they are strongly recommended. In fact, unless you are an expert mountaineer, you’d be crazy to attempt this adventure without one. If the clouds close in, the guides bring you down by compass and you’re assured of having someone to belay you when crossing over crevasses and during the initial windy climb down the ridge. As an extra precaution, each participant receives a beeper.

A beeper??? How about crazy to attempt the adventure period! End of story! Thankfully, at the end of the day I received a welcome phone call from my sweetheart confirming that he was indeed alive and to meet them for Apres ski. When I asked him how his adventure was he looked at me and very seriously said, "you would never have made it down". Enough said.

While my foolhardy spouse was risking his life I had a very nice stroll around the village, some shopping and a wonderful lunch on my own. During the course of my wonderful day I had the opportunity to think about all France has to offer. Jeff and I have been many times and each trip has been a delight. We have been to Paris, Burgundy, Bordeaux, Provence, Lyon and now Chamonix.

Anyway, as I was mulling over the fact that the stereotypical American view of the French is that they are snobs and arrogant I had to admit to myself that if it were true and all French people were snobs perhaps they are bit justified in their highbrow ways. Take away their politics, Socialism, Chirac and the fact that you just never depend on them when it comes to the "War on Terror" you are still left with quite allot. Ok, one joke first....

Q: How many gears does a French tank have?

A: 4 reverse and 1 forward, in case the enemy attacks from the rear.

Who better then the French have such wonderful food? After all, what are the three main ingredients in French cooking? Butter, butter and more butter. Regardless of the size of the village you can always find a Frommagerie, Butcher, Patisserie, Wine shop and if you are lucky a Chocolate shop! The French simply do not believe in processed food the way Americans do.

The French architecture is truly beautiful whether you are discussing the most beautiful city in the world Paris or the smallest village in the countryside. Every turn on the road reveals another treasure. One cannot argue that the country of France for the most part has amazing scenery and that the weather compared to England is much better. I would visit Paris year round if I had the opportunity.

Everyone knows that vacation is hard to come by in the States unless you have been employed by the same company for 25 years. In France, 5 weeks vacation is standard and 11 paid holidays are piled on top of that. Standard!!!!! You cannot say that the French do not have work/life balance. Now they have time to enjoy that wine, cheese, frois gra and BUTTER!

Everyone recognizes that Paris is one of the worlds fashion capitals. The French have a way of looking fashionable no matter how hard their day has been. I can spot a French person a mile away in an airport over here in England. They are by far the most "put together" individual in the vicinity. They have achieved a look that looks casual and careless but one that if I had hours to plan could not achieve.

I could go on and on...... Is it any wonder their life span is longer than ours? Those damn French! I am so jealous.

In closing I will pass along another French joke which my father-in-law Bill sent to me. It is a keeper.

Jacques Chirac, The former French Prime Minister, was sitting in his office wondering what kind of mischief he could perpetrate against the United States when his telephone rang.
"Hallo, Mr. Chirac," a heavily accented voice said. "This is Paddy down at the Harp Pub in County Sligo , Ireland .. I am ringing to inform you that we are officially declaring war on you!"
"Well, Paddy", Chirac replied, "This is indeed important news! How big is your army?"
"Right now", said Paddy, after a moment's calculation, "there is myself, me cousin Sean, me next door neighbor Seamus, and the entire dart team from the pub.. That makes eight!"
Chirac paused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have one hundred thousand men in my army waiting to move on my command."
"Begorra!" said Paddy. "I'll have to ring you back!"
Sure enough, the next day, Paddy called again. "Mr. Chirac, the war is still on. We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!"
"And what equipment would that be, Paddy? Chirac asked."
"Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy's farm tractor."
Chirac sighed, amused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6,000 tanks and 5,000 armored personnel carriers. Also, I've increased my army to one hundred fifty thousand since we last spoke."
"Saints preserve us! said Paddy. I'll have to get back to you."
Sure enough, Paddy rang again the next day. "Mr. Chirac, the war is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We've modified Jackie McLaughlin's ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four boys from the Shamrock Pub have joined us as well!"
Chirac was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military complex is surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I've increased my army to two hundred thousand!"
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!", said Paddy, "I'll have to ring you back."
Sure enough, Paddy called again the next day. "Top o' the mornin', Mr. Chirac! I am sorry to tell you that we have had to call off the war."
"I'm sorry to hear that", said Chirac. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Well", said Paddy, "we've all had a long chat over a bunch of pints, and decided there's no bloody way we can feed two hundred thousand prisoners.."