Postcard from Villars-sur-Ollon (Postmarked 25 March 2009)

Fifty centimetres. A half-metre. What's that, twenty inches?

I arrived in Villars-sur-Ollon Saturday at around six. Seven hours' drive from Paris. It was a beautiful Spring day throughout the trip, with immense tracts of land losing their snow to the warming sun and, at the same time, many farmers' fields starting to be plowed for Spring planting. A lot of the countryside looks like Vermont it seems to me, that is until you cross into Switzerland (without even slowing down to smile at the border guards) where the Swiss Alps come into view, first looming ahead on the horizon, and then slowly they are towering overhead right in front of you. If you've never been to Switzerland, one thing that's cool about the country, besides its secretive banks, are the many, many tunnels that the Swiss have bored through mountains to allow for me conveniently getting from A to B. Sometimes, the tunnels are a kilometer or two long! Remember, there are 5,000 feet of mountain overhead.

We skied Sunday and Monday under sunny, blue skies. Although it hadn't snowed in ten days, it has been one of the snowiest winters on record I am told, so the skiing was wonderful with many steep gullies for heart-stopping descents. The panoramic vistas are breath-taking, with distant mountain ranges appearing behind the nearer mountain ranges, Mont Blanc 40 kilometres to the west, other unpronounceable peaks in every other direction, all covered in snow beneath a cloudless blue sky.

But I have digressed... It snowed 50 centimetres last night. I am barely capable of putting into words what this means to a skier. Twenty inches of fresh, fluffy snow, more in the couloirs where the wind blows snow in but not out. Have you ever seen a Warren Miller ski film (I think that's his name)? Imagine steep unmarked drops off the side of a run where the bottom is out of view, and that first turn off the marked trail finds you in light, untracked, snow nearly up to your hips. First fear, then relief overcomes your senses, as you effortlessly keep your skis and body pointed downhill and compress the snow rhythmically under your skis with each turn. Snow-covered pine trees come and go by, as you thread your way down the steep slope, sometimes airborne as you have apparently skied off a small cliff, maybe six or seven feet in height, but in any case invisible under its velvety, white cloak.

Looking back at the slope once completed, you can see the tracks you have left behind in the snow, sometimes perfectly shaped like an "S" (but never often enough!). The sheer beauty is overwhelming for the first few days after arriving.  Looking around at the majestic evergreen trees and other robust bushes that manage to grow at high elevations makes me wonder how fortunate I am to be right here, right now.
It seems a miracle that my body has held out for the whole day. But it has and I can't wait for tomorrow's challenges as it is snowing again as I write this postcard.

From Villars-sur-Ollon... Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Barry xxx

Postcard from Paris (Postmarked 20 March 2009)

Paris in the Spring. It seems improbable that these four words will not quickly evoke visions of apple blossoms in the Jardins des Tuileries, the Bateaux Mouches cruising the Seine, lovers stealing kisses on the Pont Neuf and of course, gaggles of  tourists returning to the City of Lights after Winter's respite.

I ran along the Seine this morning. Most people walk along this timeless river--a river that has witnessed Joan of Arc, the Great Plague and Louis XIV--at street level, looking down at it or across to sights on the other side. Did you know that there is a cobblestone walking path at the river's level, which passes under each of the many bridges that cross the Seine? This was my route after first circling the Jardins du Luxembourg, across from my hotel. The walking path is at times narrow and elsewhere wide, but always unobstructed by traffic making it ideal for running and for admiring the river's current and the many houseboats, unseen from above. Running in the morning jumpstarts your body, erases jet lag, and, allows you to see a lot of the city's secrets in a short time. Sorry, but I can't reveal any of those secrets now... maybe later.

You may have read that there was a country-wide strike yesterday in France. Somebody representing the French working class made a speech and said, "we didn't cause the gloal recession, why should we be the ones that suffer?" Good point. If AIG were a French company, the French people would probably burn down the head office. Although my walking tour of Paris covered half the city yesterday, I never saw any of the 2,000,000 strikers who called in sick to march here or there in the city, demanding that President Sarkozy pay more money to those who lost their jobs. I think he was out of town.

I believe the French are the only people on Earth who smoke more than Quebecers. Since smoking is forbidden almost everywhere but outside, I find the city smells like an ashtray at times. Smokers profit from being outside by smoking even more and it seems that the non-smokers are always downwind of them. I am thinking of starting a petition to force smokers to wear a bubble like a helmet with built-in air filters. I doubt it will fly right away, but most great ideas take time to germinate. We could even let them smoke indoors again, but only in their bubbles of course.

Paris is not the best place to improve your French language skills; I overheard more Russian, German and English than French spoken as most everyone you run into is from somewhere else. I found myself silently correcting their grammar errors. I am not boasting, but coming from Montreal confers a great linguistic advantage on me over the girl next to me in the park who comes from Montenegro. Nevertheless, I think my French must have improved as at least I am catching the errors.

Tomorrow I leave for a week of skiing in Villars-sur-Ollons, south of Lausanne. So I wish you farewell from Paris and hope that Spring arrives soon to everywhere else!

Barry xxx