Annecy, France and the Long Road Home

After soaking up the sun on the island of Santorini, the rather daunting journey from Greece through Italy and France to Germany lay before me. I had planned it so that the trek would be broken up by a few perfunctory stops to make it more doable. On the road again! And alone again.

Making your way through several countries over water and land in a just a few days is complicated. Especially when Greece is involved. I had to get from Athens to Patra to catch my ferry to Italy, so I went to the train station to ask what trains where available. I was informed that there were no trains that could get me there in time. No trains, between two of the major cities in Greece. These are the two most traveled through cities in the whole country, and there were no trains that could take me there within 10 hours on a weekday when the trip takes about 3 hours by car! Train strikes and rail construction were cited as causes, and I was informed I would have to take a bus, or rather two separate buses, for which no departure times were currently known. I bit back my irritation and caught a shuttle bus provided by the ferry company for 20 euro. That’s Greece for you; making money off tourists’ inability to deal with the poor flow of information and the Greek way of life where time doesn’t matter. As you can tell I was pretty disgusted, which perhaps shows an ugly American sense of entitlement. But I think it’s the German coming out in me. No trains?? Unacceptable incompetence! I appreciate the timeless feeling of Greece, the laid-back culture of bargaining and bantering, but when you want to get somewhere on time you start to miss the Germans. God Bless Der Deutsche Bahn.

These signs say "Please don't cross the railway tracks" and are placed every few meters along the tracks and above as well in Italian railway stations. It seems like overkill until you see people charging unashamed across the rails with luggage in tow! Gotta love the Italians. Needless to say they don't have signs like this in Germany.

I did eventually get to Patra and I rested much easier once I was on the ferry and on my way to Italy, where at least the trains run, even if it’s not clear when or where. I spent the night in Ancona, a fairly unremarkable port town which has nonetheless a decent pedestrian area and a pretty cathedral. I caught mass at the cathedral and had an apertivo at a small bar in the town square. This is a common way of having an evening meal in Italy- you go to a bar where they have all sorts of hors d’oeuvres laid out, and you can have as much finger food as you want plus a drink for 6 euro. I enjoyed a glass of red wine and mini bruschetta while watching the Italians eat. Which is quite entertaining. Three old men argue over giant fruity cocktails with pink umbrellas in them, a group of Italian women in bright colors chain smoke and talk over each other, two businessmen have another beer and pile their plates high with pizza bread. They are all loud, animated, and focused on enjoying their food and enjoying each other’s company. Everyone seems to know each other, and they often hop from table to table to say hello with a casual kiss on the cheek and energetic chatty greeting. And all the while the sun is slowly sinking over pointed terra cotta roofs, geranium-filled window boxes and locals enjoying their evening stroll.

On the train to France

Trains, trains and more trains! I switched nine times before I made it from Ancona to Annecy. Fifteen hours on the trains. I had a few congratulatory beers once finally the hostel, gazing at the stars shining over the Alps and enjoying the quiet. Annecy is situated in the southern part of France close to the Swiss border. It’s nestled at the foot of the Alps and near a wide, clear Alpine lake, the Lac D’Annecy. The newer part of town is pretty bland but the Old City is fantastic. It’s filled with quaint little houses and crisscrossed with canals with cast-iron railings which are topped with boxes of vivid orange and yellow flowers.

Annecy, reflected

There is a tiny castle right in the middle, and the whole place is thick with swans. In the background loom the Alps, violet colored and visible in the sky at the end of every narrow cobblestoned alley. The water in the canals, like the water in the lake, is perfectly clear when shallow and in deeper waters fades to turquoise. The whole place is insanely picturesque, and I could not stop taking pictures. The thing I liked best about Annecy was that you get to see everything twice: once above ground and once reflected in the glass-like canals, so that it looks like there is a shaky ghost-city under the water’s surface. The mighty Alps themselves waver upside-down on the surface of the Lac D’Annecy, along with sailboats, puffy clouds and brightly colored parasails floating in the sky above the misty peaks.

The incredibly clear waters of the Lac D'Annecy

In such a civilized, peaceful, pretty place where flowers cover the ground and around every corner is a new panorama that belongs in a coffee table book entitled “Beautiful France,” there’s not a lot of opportunity for something interesting to happen. Interesting things, usually known as “adventures,” happen when something goes wrong. And in this city even the trash receptacles are cute and rustic looking and everything runs like a well-oiled Alpine cuckoo clock. I thought I would be happy to have a few days to relax in the sun after the chaos of Greece and Italy, and I was happy, but I found myself getting a bit bored. I found myself wishing that one of the well-groomed, reserved French people I met would turn Italian on me and start waving their arms and yelling. Or that one of the decorous motorcycle drivers would pull a Vespa and speed around Mercedes into the middle of the intersection on a red light.

French biker passing me

I did get to bike around the Lac D’Annecy, which was nice, although I was put to shame by the biking skills of the French. Snowy-haired old ladies on pink bikes with baskets would zip around me while I labored up a hill, and most of the other bikers were decked out in legit spandex and cool sports-grade sunglasses. Everyone was on bikes. These people love their bicycling- I’ve never seen anything like it. Tour de France, anyone?

Uneventful though it was I really enjoyed my time in Annecy. The pure beauty of the place filled my senses and I felt like I’d gotten several good nights of sleep filled with lovely dreams upon leaving. And don’t forget the FOOD! I was running out of money at this point so I couldn’t eat like I wanted to, but I managed to sample some essentials. I had a warm, crispy crepe filled with creamy cheese and onions and bacon. The brown edges of the crepe melt in your mouth. I had a puffy éclair filled with rich cream and covered in smooth chocolate sauce, several flaky buttery croissants, and a giant chocolate merengue studded with whole hazelnuts. Local sausage made with wine and herbs, nutty, soft local cheese and a baguette made for a few dreamy lunches in the grass. It took quite a bit of self-control to keep from splurging on an all-out French dinner with courses. The only thing that held me back was my shrinking bank account which I knew had to last me through six days in Ireland. I like France and I like food, but I had a feeling I would LOVE Ireland. So, with pints of Guinness and green rolling hills fixed firmly in mind, I zipped up my purse and ate a baguette.

Flowers, bakery items and canals... the essence of my trip to Annecy

Onwards to Germany, and then after a few days of doing laundry and repacking the long-awaited trip to the Emerald Isle! I’ve wanted to visit Ireland for as long as I can remember, ever since I heard my first sweetly melancholy Celtic ballad and read my first historical romance about the potato famine. All Americans romanticize Ireland, and I have a pretty severe case of this national ailment. Excitement and suspense filled me as I left for the airport, along with the secret hope that I would not be disappointed…  I hope to post about it soon!