Early morning Friday and it was time to jet, set, go. We were headed for the alps at the border of France, but first a stop off in Geneva to explore.
For some reason I had expected a lot of modernity in Geneva but I was wrong. This city is very historic and appears very, very old. I guess since Switzerland escaped the world wars it's no wonder their architecture has an olden' day charm.
We wandered through the old town and stopped off at St Pierre Cathedral where the sunlight seemed to wink at me through the stained glass window.
Then with grumbling tummies we decided it was time for a well-earned lunch, after all we had been up since 4am... Who would have thought I'd find some of the best pasta of my life in Switzerland? But you better believe it. If you have the chance, definitely stop by this place. The linguine vongole is out of this world.
Next was a quick stop by the lake to greet the wildlife (which reminded me so much of Zurich and Lucerne).
Then as the light faded in the distance, providing one of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen, it was time to head for the mountains. Our destination? Morgins in the Portes Du Soleil ski resort by the French border.
When we woke the following morning in our quaint mountain cottage I was greeted by this view. With so much snow, my ski gear was virtually leaping out of my suitcase, as were my excitement levels. Those who know me realise I've been waiting to visit a snowy place for as long as I can remember. To me, a winter white landscape provides unimaginable excitement levels. Finally I had gotten my wish...
Armed with a full belly thanks to a breakfast feast of pastries, bread, meat and cheeses, we were ready and raring to go.
Much to my delight, we spent the day strolling through the forest with the dogs where I got to make my very first snow angel. It was just as heavenly as I imagined.
Dinner that evening, we simply had to have fondue. What else!? When in Switzerland... I must say it was dangerously good.
The following day, having eaten inhumane amounts of molten cheese, munched copious baguettes and drained a few bottles of vino, I was in serious need of some exercise... Time to hit the slopes, or in my case, learn to ski. Lucky my friend used to be a ski instructor so I knew I was in safe hands. Believe it or not I took to it quite naturally and after 2 hours I felt like a bit of a pro [read: I could go down all the learner slopes]. What fun!
Who knows where the time went but before we knew it, it was our last supper. Being so close to the border we thought, why not eat in France? So off to Chatel we went where we had a delightful feast at Fleur De Neige.
First, a duck mousse amuse bouche to get the palette going.
Then a delightful crab ravioli in a ginger broth with scallops which wasn't particularly aesthetic, so no photo of that one.
For main we had veal fillet mignon, again not that pretty but very delicious. Next followed a tangy grapefruit palette cleanser in a shot glass made of ice...
And finally dame blanche for dessert.
I returned to London with sore muscles and a stretched stomach but my what a de-white-ful trip it was in those majestic, snowy mountains.
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Photos by Krissie.