Christmas in the Vosges

From Lyon, I caught a train to Nancy where I would again meet Claude and Chantal. Deceptively simple in appearance, this plan was thrown into disarray by an electrical fault that rendered Nancy unreachable by train. Unaware of this development, I patiently waited as the train remained in Toule for over an hour, worrying that either Claude or Chantal would be waiting for me in Nancy. Eventually, Claude appeared at the carriage window, desperately waving for my attention. As I disembarked, he explained about the electrical fault and told me that he had already walked the length of the train twice, in search of me — somehow we had failed to notice each other. We finally arrived back in Chaligny in the early hours of the morning, our relief palpable.

Early the next afternoon (that is, Christmas Eve) we drove to Yolande’s father’s house in the Vosges. Nestled on the side of a small valley high in the mountain range, the house consists of several extensions to an ancient farmhouse with low wooden ceilings, thick walls and a large stone basin that is steadily fed with icy water from a nearby spring. Here I met the extended family, doing my best with an extremely limited French vocabulary, my occasional faux pas inspiring good-humoured smiles. My inability to pronounce French words was brought to a head at the dinner table, when I surrendered to insistent requests and attempted to read a small French verse inscribed on the inside of a lolly wrapper. It was ultimately left to Yolande to read the verse correctly, allowing everybody at the table to finally understand it (including myself, once an English translation was provided).

The dinner itself was an extravagant affair, beginning around 7pm and carrying on through several delicious courses until well after 1am. Although I am unable to recall the specific menu, the food was absolutely fantastic, and in the French tradition it was accompanied by an exceptional selection of champagne, white wines and red wines. Perhaps it was only my imagination, but I appreciated the wines much more than I had previously, especially some of the Bordeaux reds and (to my surprise) the champagne. Conversations were a mixture of English and French, and in moments when only French was spoken I did my best to detect the breaks between words and to identify any words I could understand, a task that seemingly became easier as more wine was served throughout the night. Potential spoiler: at later points on this trip, I would again notice that moderate amounts of alcohol indeed improved my ability with foreign languages.

Finally, when it was well past midnight and everyone had begun to tire, the table was cleared and people began to head for bed. Fueled by some excellent wines, Alain, Claude and myself elected for a late-night hike in the adjacent woods, ostensibly to assist the digestion process. Following a steep road up the mountain in the dark and aided only by Alain’s small torch, we reached a point where, after several slips and falls, the road became far too icy to follow further. Rather than return the way we had come, Claude and I followed Alain through the forest itself, stumbling several times into small streams and coming perilously close to tumbling many more times. We finally returned to the farmhouse around 3am, having a good laugh at our misfortunes and sodden footwear, and also more than ready for bed.

Accordingly, in a call back to my student days (oh, so long ago!) I slept in almost until noon and finally emerged just in time to assist with the preparations for lunch. The Christmas lunch was spectacular, with platters of oysters (I believe the tally was ten dozen oysters) and escargot; I had never eaten escargot before, and after tentatively trying my first snail I worked my way through an entire plate of the little critters. All too soon it was time to say goodbye and return to Chaligny, drawing this memorable Christmas to a close. It was a truly amazing experience, I was made to feel completely at home despite being half a world away from my family. I owe the entire family more than I could ever repay, and I cannot thank them enough.

The next morning was unwelcome, my alarm barely stirring me from my slumber at 5:30am, and after a final breakfast in Chaligny I found myself once again on a platform at Nancy station. This time I had to say goodbye to Claude and Chantal, with whom I had a spent most of the previous three weeks, a semi-permanent fixture in their house and now too attached to make leaving an easy proposition. It was a bittersweet parting as I headed for the charm and serenity of Switzerland.