From Paris to the Swiss Alps

  Nendaz, Swiss Alps, Switzerland
Monday, March 2, 2009

Today didn't start well. Last night I left instructions to give us a wake-up call at 06:30, and to have a taxi for us at 07:15. That would give us time to be ready for a quick breakfast at 07:00 and be at the Gare de Lyon with about half an hour to spare. As I was giving these instructions, both Fiona and I got the distinct impression that the man at the desk looked and sounded like he'd had a few drinks too many. I should have taken more precautions.
 
Neither Fiona nor I slept too well; we were up part of the night and so rather tired. I was awakened by the desk clerk on the phone who asked if we still wanted the taxi. I didn't understand until I looked at my watch: 07:30! The taxi had already been waiting for 15 minutes, and our train would leave in about 25 minutes. I told the clerk on the phone that we had wanted to be wakened at 06:30. He replied that he was sure he had programmed it.  It was probably a lost cause, but we went into high gear to try to make it. We were packed, down, settled, and in the taxi in about 15 minutes. The taxi driver made a valiant effort to get us to the Gare de Lyon but we missed the train by about 5 minutes. When was the next one? Not until 12:58. We had five hours to wait.  After getting the arrangements made to take the later train, I asked the lady at the counter if we could leave our bags somewhere. "There is a left luggage service on the lower level" she told us pointing down a long section of station. We made the long walk and went down the escalator with our 3 suitcases (one contains ski boots), ski bag, computer bag and shoulder bags. When we arrived at the counter we saw several signs indicating that the left-luggage department was on strike.

the left-luggage service on strike

Vive la France!
 
What next? Breakfast. We went back upstairs to the main entrance hall where there was a café. It was in the station area that is open at one end, so though there is a roof, the temperature is that same as outside: in the upper 30s F.  We ordered a French breakfast: orange juice, coffee, a croissant and a slice of baguette with butter and jam, cost about $11. One of the good thing about a French café is that you can stay as long as you like once you've ordered something. So we woke up sometime during breakfast and started looking at our options. I called Daniel to let him know about when we'd be arriving in Sion, and we settled down to wait. With so much luggage, it wasn't really possible to go anywhere, and we really didn't feel like trying. So we zipped up our ski jackets, read, and watched the people.

Our view of the train station

 
There were quite a few beggars wandering around. Some were eastern European ladies, possibly gypsies with scarves on their heads that went around asking for a coin or two. Several Frenchmen were trying give, in exchange for some money, newspapers about the difficulties of the unemployed, published for just such a purpose. Couples with young children and ski bags walked happily toward trains. There were fathers with children, and mothers with children. Three young guys walked back and forth with a 1.75 liter bottle of whisky, occasionally taking a swig and laughing loudly. Chicly dressed women in leather boots and short skirts walked arm in arm laughing and they looked for their trains. Older couples, dressed warmly walked toward their trains. There were quite a few police in evidence, in groups of two or three. Occasional announcements over the intercom warned of pickpockets, and not to leave baggage unattended or risk it being destroyed as a bomb threat. Several SDFs (sans domicile fixe - French appellation for homeless people) wandered here and there in grubby clothes eating anything left on café tables. Cats crawled under out table; pigeons flew over us narrowly missing our heads. Children chased the pigeons squealing with delight.
 
We go rather cold just sitting still, but the thought of lugging the luggage anywhere dissuaded us from being too entrepreneurial.
 
We were sitting just below the entrance to the famous Train Blue restaurant, and I notice on their sign, that they opened for lunch at 11:30. If we could check our luggage we'd have an hour and half to eat and make the train. The Train Blue, though an upscale restaurant, can serve quickly since they're service travelers who have to catch trains. So Fiona went to ask if we could check our luggage, and the answer was affirmative. We dragged all our gear up the long stone stairway and squeezed it all through the very small revolving door, and checked our luggage, all promptly at 11:30.

Inside the Train Bleu

We ordered the TGV fixed price meal, which, the menu said, could be completely served in 45 minutes.
 
Fiona had wanted to eat here, but it hadn't looked possible. She also hoped to have foie gras once while in Paris. The first course on this menu was foie gras and thin slices of smoked duck. It was fabulous. 

Another view inside the Train Bleu

We wished we had more time, but we couldn't take three hours this time. The second course was leg of lamb cut off the bone at the table by a waiter in black tie. We had a glass of Bordeaux which we wouldn't normally do at lunch, but we were cold and had a long train ride ahead of us - at least that was our excuse....
 
We topped it off with a coffee, which was served with some bite-served pastries. A light and perfect end to the meal.
 
In spite of our best efforts we didn't make it out of the restaurant until about 12:40.  Down the stairs, down the corridor, we finally found our train with 10 minutes to spare. I showed the tickets to an agent and asked where we should go.  "Car number 18" he replied and pointed down the train.  I was pulling two rolling bags, and had both sets of skis in a bag over my shoulder, as well as my small day pack. Fiona was pulling two rolling bags but the handle was stuck on one, she had to walk slightly hunched over.  18 cars.  We started briskly down the platform. We discovered that 18 TGV cars makes a very long train. We were almost at the front, with meant the farthest car.  We huffed and puffed on our full stomachs and finally made it to car 18, so sooner had we arrived that the announcement came that the doors would be closing and the train pulling out. We had just enough time to get our caravan-load of luggage in the car and the doors closed. We ended up cutting that a lot closer than we had intended, but after we caught our breath, we decided the lunch at the Train Bleu was well worth it.
 
TGV stands for Very Fast Train (in French: Train de Grande Vitesse). It does go very fast. We stopped in Dijon, Dôle and then were in altitudes where snow covered the ground.  One interesting site we passed near was Alesia, the battle ground where Julius Caesar won the conclusive battle against the Gauls under Vercingétorix. Julius had the captured war-leader taken back to Rome where he waited in prison for 5 years for Caesar's procession where the Gaul was paraded through the streets and then strangled.
 
We arrived in Lausanne on the shores of Lake Leman (Lake Geneva) at about 5:00. We disembarked with all our baggage and waited 20 minutes for the next train to Sion. It took almost precisely one hour to reach Sion and the trip is quite beautiful. We rode along right next to the banks of the lake, passed next to the impressive Chateau de Chillon - famous due to a poem by Lord Byron - and than as we left the lake, went into a broad valley with snow-topped mountains on either side. We got off the train in Sion and were met by Jean-Marc Vernaud who kindly drove us up to Nendaz (pronounced locally something like "nahndah"). It was quite a climb; we're not located at around 1400 meters (4500 ft) altitude. Our chalet is very nicely done inside; there are 8 double bedrooms, two kitchens, two living rooms, two fireplaces etc. It's designed to serve either as two smaller or one larger apartment. It is open now, so we can take advantage of both sets of everything. I'm sure the view will be beautiful in the morning, but by the time we arrived it was already dark.
 
We had a gourmet dinner prepared by Keir Graham, who lives in Zurich - he set a very high standard for future culinary efforts. 

Dinner in the chalet

Now music is playing, table games are out, and the 13 of us are fading in and out of discussions about our activities of the coming days. I'm sure it will be most enjoyable.