Andy Smallman

Read the title of today’s blog posting carefully. Do you hear my first name in it and not just a World War II reference? If so, you will start to understand the terrific pun Laurent made in English today, so good that I made it the title. I’ll try to explain it here, but, like most puns, to fully get it you probably needed to be present with us over the last couple of days.

First, on our walk yesterday, I told Laurent of my interest in visiting Normandy and the D-Day beaches before we leave France. Now temporarily file that little bit of trivia.

Second, at dinner last night Manon made an impassioned speech in English in which she asked me to join the rest of the group in the nearby town of Flaine for lunch today. They would all ski there, of course, following their normal route, one which takes them to high elevations and provides some of the loveliest views in the Alps. For me, this would involve being the first out of the apartment in order to catch the morning bus to Flaine from Les Carroz, a 35 minute ride along a steep, winding road through the mountains. Once in Flaine, I’d wait for them to arrive and then, based on Manon’s proposal, accompany them on a 10-15 minute ride in the “Grandes Platieres” télécabine. Yes, she was suggesting I dangle above the ground supported by nothing but flimsy cables in order to get a view of Mt. Blanc.

Did I mention I don’t like heights. I mean, I really don’t like heights. I get all weak in the knees and lightheaded (kind of like meeting Melinda for the first time?).

Anyway, I did it. I took the mountain bus to Flaine, trying all the way not to look over the side of the road (which is harder to do when the bus driver is busy passing little sports cars on the straightaways). I hung out in Flaine until Melinda called. And I let them convince me to ride the “Grandes Platieres” télécabine. The ride up wasn’t so bad, packed as I was with my entire family, the Boudeaus, and several skiers not the least bit nervous about the experience of being in a tiny box floating through the sky. But let me just say that the ride down was somewhat tortuous, as you might gather if you carefully study my face in this self-portrait taken about a third of the way down. Ella came with me, which was nice, but it was just the two of us in this cabin intended for 2 or 3 thousand, I think. And you kind of start to sway at times. And you’re really high up. And every so often you come to a place where the cables shake and make a loud noise, probably the same sound they’d make just before snapping. And you’re really high up (oh, I said that already). And it’s a long way down. And below you are trees and rocks (and the little bitty town of Flaine). And you’re swaying and stuff.

So, you see, when we all were safely back in the apartment late this afternoon, Laurent christened today as “Andy Day.” “And D-Day.” Get it?

Melinda reached out to take this picture of today’s skiers this morning while they were riding a télésiege (chair lift) that can seat 6 across. Yes, you are correct in noticing that Laurent and Romain are absent. Of course I’m not there because I’ve never in my life been on a télésiege, or a télécabine, or a téléski, or a télé-fill-in-the-blank, for that matter. Well, come to think of it, I have been on the telephone and even on the television, but both of those words are missing the cute little French accent marks above the letter E.

You might say I’ve digressed.

Laurent took Romain to Geneva today so he could catch a plane back home to Nantes. School keeps Romain busy and with it resuming on Monday he wanted some focused study time in an empty house in order to be as productive as possible. I would have said that the car trip to Geneva from Les Carroz is 45 minutes, but Laurent returned to Les Carroz a little late and with a story to tell. At the France-Switzerland border he was stopped and told he needed to pay a 40 Euro toll to continue on the road to the Geneva airport. He balked at that, turned around, and took a path through France that doubled the travel time but saved him the 40 Euro toll.

The short of all of this is that the skiers who departed from our apartment this morning were female. Ella again skied until just after lunch, then rested in the apartment. I did a little reading and then went for a 3 mile run before meeting up with Ella. Once Laurent returned, he took me for a little walk before we sat down in the afternoon sun for a beer.

On a side note, noticeably absent from the blog so far is anything having to do with last night’s incredible dinner. We went out to a restaurant that serves melted cheese in a variety of styles and fashions. If I don’t say more about this soon, I at least want to have this record of last night’s dining experience here, dedicated to my cheese-hating brother, Scott.

I hadn’t really considered the expression “French juice” until I wrote it as today’s title. But something about it seems quite apt. “French juice,” at least the stereotype of what comes to MY mind when I think of it, is wine. And, yes, in the grocery store at Les Carroz I found these “French juice” boxes on the top shelf, between a Riesling, as you can see on the left, and something I did not recognize on the right. Not only did I take this photo of the “French juice” boxes, I had to pick them up to inspect them. What was I looking for? I bet you know. And the answer is no, there were no straws.

As is our method of operation, the rest of the gang left just before 10 this morning to ski (Ella was with them today before reconnecting with me after lunch to relax and nurse her cold). This leaves me to my own devices for several hours. So picture this. I have solitary access to an apartment in the French Alps for several hours each day. Yes, it’s pretty darn incredible, especially with the sun shining brightly as it has done each day so far. I do some reading and a lot of writing, especially as it pertains to my kindness classes. I go for long walks in the town and yesterday even went for a 30 minute jog. I explore the stores, especially the grocery stores, which allows me to discover things like “French juice” boxes.

Speaking of “French juice,” what a gift it is to be living for a week with Laurent and his ability to select delicious red wines. I’ve never been much of a wine drinker but I can see that hanging out with Laurent would change that. I might just learn something (especially if I had a base on which to build it). Each day he has gone to the grocery store and studied, studied, studied the extensive selection, ultimately choosing something divine. Interestingly, I’ve not seen him even give the “French juice” boxes a first look.

I’ll call that Lesson #1.

That’s Chloe, Manon, Romain, Laurent and Frédérique. Not pictured are Melinda, the photographer, as well as Ella and me. Ella isn’t in the photo because she’s come down with a nasty cold and stayed in the apartment all day. In fact, she slept for most of the afternoon, afterwards claiming that she hasn’t taken a nap like that since she was 7 years-old. I’m not pictured because, well, I don’t ski. I know this is hard to understand, especially if you know Melinda and the entire Shaw family. I try to explain it as having something to do with being born in Nebraska, but somehow that explanation doesn’t always stand up. When I try to add in that it has to do with my sore knees, people start playing tiny violins with their fingers (I hate that). The truth is, I have no explanation.

So today’s photo was taken at lunchtime or what is referred to here as le pique-nique (yes, picnic or outdoor lunch). This photogenic crew had been skiing for a couple of hours before taking a break. They left Les Carroz in the fog and emerged here above the town of Flaine in the sunshine. The number of ski runs in this area is astounding, literally dozens and spread out over a vast amount of space. For instance, our beloved skiers left today from Les Carroz (5 minutes from our apartment, btw), got pulled a short distance on something called a “téléski” (pomalift) to get to another something called a “télécabine” (what might best translate as a gondola – this one fits 8 people and looks like a Disneyland ride to me). They exited the télécabine and skied toward the ski area of Samoens. From Samoens they took a télésiege (ski lift), then skied a short distance to yet another télésiege. This one took them further up a mountain where they exited and took a long ski run to the ski area of Flaine. They took still another télésiege up above Flaine, skied a short distance, then stopped for lunch and this photo.

Got it? I’m not sure I do and Frédérique just showed me using a map.

It’s birthday week in the Boudeau family, well for at least 50% of the family. Manon’s was on Friday and today it is Frédérique’s turn. You may recall the big bash for Romain’s 18th birthday in September. And we still have Laurent’s to look forward to, although he is going to have to compete with Melinda and me since his birthday is in May. Still, yes, putting everything else aside, today I turn my attention to Frédérique.

Now here is the nitty-gritty detail you have to understand. Regardless of whether or not it is her birthday, there is a standing rule in the Boudeau family that Frédérique does not make dinner on Sundays. Given that her birthday this year fell on a Sunday, I wasn’t sure if perhaps this would be one of those double negative things. You know, where somehow a normal situation is flipped and then the opposite thing happens. Which, of course, means that Frédérique would have to make dinner since her birthday this year fell on a Sunday. So I paid close attention to see if that might happen, or if we perhaps would cross into some parallel dimension in which Frédérique ONLY makes dinner on Sunday nights.

Okay, okay, so I am being a overly dramatic (or ridiculous). There was no way that any of us were allowing Frédérique to make dinner tonight. The rest of us took care of that, including Laurent who bought this incredible “cake” at a bakery in Les Carroz. It’s not really a cake, but is something called a “tarte aux myrtilles” (blueberry tart), a speciality here in the Alps. And, yes, it was delicious.

Given the recent focus on birthdays I should add a belatedly happy one to Melinda’s sister, Brenda, whose birthday was yesterday, sandwiched in between two of the Boudeaus. I was working on writing something about making Brenda into a Boudeau birthday sandwich but it really didn’t work out so I scrapped it.

Meanwhile, Melinda thinks I should mention that the gang (minus me) all went skiing today. She tells me I should say that the skiing was excellent and that it is quite something to be in the middle of the French Alps on skis with her two daughters. Before the week is out, I might just say it.

At the risk of offending someone else, I hereby am declaring Laurent Boudeau as the #1 Blog Reader! I bestow this esteemed status on Laurent because he has gone to significant effort to see to it that I can post to the blog by providing a device that lets me temporarily connect to the Internet each night. He also has been a faithful daily reader and despite not being a native English speaker even caught an English writing typo I made one time. Anyone wanting to challenge Laurent for this position needs to figure out how to top these things.

That being said, I am excited to announce that we have arrived in Les Carroz and are comfortably sitting inside the Boudeau cabin with the entire Boudeau family. Throughout the day, Frédérique and I kept in touch with each other via text messages. She sent her first at 4:45am, the time they departed by car from Nantes. I was sound asleep then, like a reasonable person. I sent her my first message soon after 10am, just after our train left Paris. Then we compared arrival times in Les Carroz and ended up here at almost exactly the same time.

Today’s photo was taken late this afternoon as Manon and Chloe were trying on ski boots at the ski equipment rental shop. As good-looking as these two girls are, a better picture would have been of the 2 or 3 year-old French girl who engaged me in conversation inside the shop while her uncle tried on his boots. I learned that she has a family of five in Les Carroz, including her grandfather. She also told me that she arrived today by plane. I stumbled through telling her that I was from the United States, a fact that clearly made no sense to her, even after her uncle explained that the US is lots of water away.

To celebrate the fact that today is Manon’s birthday (sweet 16, to be exact!), Melinda took us out for Mexican food for lunch. What this has to do with Manon’s birthday is lost on me now, but the food was great. Chloe proclaimed it the best Mexican food we’ve had in France, a statement about my homemade tacos, I think. Or it had everything to do with the fact that today is Manon’s birthday and to celebrate Chloe had Mexican food.

To celebrate the fact that today is Manon’s birthday, Ella and I posed for this photo inside the Mexican restaurant while waiting for our lunches to arrive. What posing for this photo has to do with Manon’s birthday is lost on me now, but you have to admit that Ella’s bangs look really good. Me, I look a little funny with my hand in front of my mouth but, hey, the more of my face that gets covered in pictures the longer the camera will last, right? Or it has everything to do with the fact that today is Manon’s birthday and to celebrate I put my hand in front of my face.

To celebrate the fact that today is Manon’s birthday, I hereby dedicate today’s post to her. Happy birthday, Manon! We are looking forward to seeing you in Les Carroz tomorrow and spending the next week with you and your lovely family.

Oh, to you regular blog readers… I’m hoping to be able to post each day while in Les Carroz but I hear Internet access may be a little challenging. If I’m delayed in posting, please be aware that I will be writing my blog posts each day and then posting them as Internet time allows, either in Les Carroz or once we’re back in Nantes on the 13th or 14th.

PS – See some photos of the restaurant we went to today, called Rice ‘n Beans, and read some pretty silly accompanying commentary at The Puff List.

I’m no girl and I try my best not to succumb to gender stereotyping. But this has to be one of those wish-list kind of things for women and girls, right? I’m talking about having your hair cut in Paris by an honest-to-goodness Parisian hair stylist. As you can tell from the photo, such was Ella’s experience today. She had been telling us for some time that she wanted her bangs cut but the rest of her hair left pretty much as is. The conversation had gotten so serious on Tuesday night that Melinda was willing to buy some scissors and cut Ella’s bangs herself. With a little encouragement (discouragement?) from Chloe and me, Melinda decided to forego this approach and added “Haircut for Ella” to the family Parisian To-Do list. The plan was to have an affordable salon fall out of the sky, or at least make itself visible to us, as we were out exploring today or tomorrow. The first place that made itself known was way too expensive but the second, just down the street from the first, fit the bill, literally. They even had an opening right after lunch. Clearly, this was meant to be! Ella is happy and looks darn cute, if I say so myself.

Speaking of lunch, we had an amazingly delicious meal at Rose Bakery today and highly recommend it if you find yourself in Paris (get a full sense from this review). Melinda and I both had a tofu-vegetable dish that if made for me regularly might convince me that vegetarianism is for me. Chloe and Ella both had the omelette of the day. The girls and Melinda each ordered from the extensive dessert menu. I poached. Great, great food.

After lunch and after Ella’s haircut, we ventured not far to visit Sacré Coeur. That really is an awe-inspiring place and the view of the city magnificent. It was packed on a chilly Thursday in March, leading us to wonder what it would be like on a beautiful weekend day in late spring.

Chloe is taking a French History class at the University of Nantes this semester (taught entirely in French) and is finding it very interesting, so much so that she put the Palace of Versailles at the top of her list of places to see while we are in Paris this week. Melinda spent about a bazillion hours researching the most cost-effective way to honor this request. This was time well-spent because it helped us determine the best days and times to go, the best train to take, what time we should get up in the morning, what we should wear, the most appropriate foods to eat to support one’s trip to Versailles and several other things I don’t have space to mention. Frankly, and just between you and me, I think Melinda is having an affair with Rick Steves.

Marital fidelity issues aside, we had a grand time touring the castle this morning. After lunch at a restaurant on the grounds near the canal, we went for a long walk out past the canal and then onto Marie-Antoinette’s estate. We got several great photos on this walk, including this one of Chloe and Ella on a little foot bridge. I have others, including several taken at the Queen’s Hamlet. I decided to hold off using the one of Melinda and me that Chloe took at the Temple of Love. This is intended to be a family-oriented blog after all.

… but someone has to do it and I took my turn today. This arty self-portrait was taken this afternoon at about 3:30. I was doing my part by sitting at a sidewalk café in Paris across the street from the Opéra. I was eating mousse au chocolat and sipping a Perrier garnished with a lemon wedge. I know, I know. It’s a tough job doing what I was doing. But I think today I was just the right person for it. Another day it will be your turn, I’m sure, and don’t go ducking the responsibility. We each need to do our part. As they say, “many hands make light work.”

You may be wondering what Melinda and the girls were up to while I was making the world safe for democracy, or however you want to reference my heroic efforts today. Well, they were doing their part, too, shopping for clothes a couple of blocks away from where I sat, not far from the Galleries Lafayette.

To add to my burden I had to sit under an electric heater that necessitated the removal of my scarf. All things considered, if anyone feels the need to send me their condolences, feel free to do so below using the comments section.