Touring Someplace Warmer Than Here!
This
winter weather in Adams County is starting to seem pretty cold and bleak, so
how about coming along with Ruthie and me for a very quick peek at where it was anything but?
*
Nestled
at the foot of the French Alps, Annecy (On-see) is a mix of medieval and modern
day buildings on a deep, blue lake flanked by the foothills of spectacular
snow-capped peaks. We could see from our hotel’s doorstep the wide sweep of
Lake Annecy stretching out of sight around a distant bend. Kayakers were
putting out from a marina at this end and a ferry boat was heading across.
Ruthie
excitedly pointed at it. “Dear, taking that would get us to the hiking trails
in those foothills! Then we could…!” Looking higher, she saw the peaks being
hidden by lowering rain clouds. “Oops, but not today I guess.”
But
it was sunny enough down here to explore the medieval heart of town instead and
we wound up smack in the middle of Annecy’s open market day. Vender stalls
lining the cobblestone streets displayed all varieties of fresh fruits and
vegetables, locally made cheeses, sausages, and wines, plus, every arts and
craft imaginable. The riot of sights, sounds, and fragrances had most of
us-tourists, locals, and peddlers alike-in something of a party mood.
Practically
drooling before a stall stacked with cheese bricks of all kinds, I started, “Sweetie,
while hiking these would…”
She
was already pointing for the vendor. “We’d like this…and a bit of that! Oh, and
that too!”
After
a tasty brasserie (café) lunch of-what else?-three-cheese fondue, we followed
the lakefront trail to admire the quaint centuries-old cottages. Most
especially, the elegant chateaus we saw spoke volumes about an older time of
nobility and grace.
The
next day’s rainy weather higher up allowed us but a few tantalizing glimpses of
one of the massive peaks. Plus, this morning it was drizzling down here too.
Unfazed and ever the optimist, Ruthie said, “Dear, we’ve got our rain jackets
and besides, it’s mild. Let’s do the town some more!”
Throughout, the man-made channels
regulating the inflow and outflow of the lake have Annecy known as the French
version of Venice. Particularly notable was an ancient prison built of stone,
the front of which was shaped like the bow of a ship cleaving the channel in
two.
Snapping one shot after another, my
photographer spouse declared, “So help me, dear, one of these goes up on our
wall!”
Our
final evening had us treating ourselves to one of Annecy’s fanciest
restaurants, L’ Etage. Once seated at a warmly candle-lit table, we felt its
ambience alone lived up to this, the wooden beams supporting a 16-foot ceiling
and tall double windows overlooking the street. And so did the food, we
complimenting the chef-“Tre’s bon, monsieur!”-for Ruthie’s superb roast duck and
my perfectly medium-rare filet mignon. Afterward savoring the delicious
chocolate mousse, we saw that outside it had cleared. As the French Alps were showing
themselves at long last, we agreed; Annecy was another of those places we’d come
back to.
