Bang bang – it's autumn

On Sunday I am woken by gun fire. The hunters are out. Watch out, all wild boar and deer!

On Friday evening the autumn theme was prominent in my belated birthday celebration with Juan at the Fantin Latour restaurant: apple, mushroom, truffle, hazel nut, pumpkin and légumes oubliés all making an appearance in the 10-course gastro meal. Since our arrival in France in 2005 the humble parsnip has made a comeback. Amusing to see it gracing the menu of Grenoble's fanciest downtown restaurant.

The restaurant takes its mountain theme seriously. At the entrance you pass a reconstruction of a mountain stream, complete with birch trees. It would be successful as a primary-school project. But as a restaurant installation? Accompanying our food were chunks of moss, twigs, stones, leaves... classy or crude?
The jury is out...

The surprise gourmande was one of many highlights: an awesome fennel gazpacho. But the potée comtoise –  a pork stew – was a shade too hearty for our appetites, and strangely out of style with the exquisitely-portioned courses that preceded it. And whoever thought of partnering melon sorbet and watery tapioca in the pré dessert definitely needs to rethink strategy.

I should add that we were taking advantage of a 2-for-the-price-of-1 offer. A good deal. But it meant that the restaurant was packed with fellow bargain-hunters. Sitting together in a somewhat cramped space we were processed en masse, at a brisk pace. Our view – onto a busy and insalubrious passage way – was inconsistent with any sense of occasion. So our overall verdict: a very interesting adventure but for ambiance and pace the Uriage Terrasses wins hands down.

On Saturday the mountains were looking sumptuous. We did a variation of the Villard Reymond – Villard Notre Dame circuit walked numerous times.

It gives outstanding views of Villard Reymond...

and the snow-dusted Grandes Rousses peaks above Alpe d'Huez were a seductive trailer for the white landscapes that will be taking over any time soon. The above-normal temperature made for ideal walking conditions. My aches and pains slowed us, but that was no bad thing – endless possibilities for contemplating the view.

Sunday blues

Hoping to eat myself out of a crisis with an indulgent fig, mascarpone, honey and crème fraiche tart...

Col du Charnier

For one reason or another we haven't been for a "proper" walk for months. So it was good to get into the mountains today (albeit alarming to see just how low in energy some of us were). Still allergic to imminent winter, we chose the area near La Jarjatte, south of Grenoble, walking in reverse one of our early summer routes. It turned out to be a very well frequented track (October is a prime walking month before snow sends people into a variety of different sports).

flattering colour enhancement from Juan's camera (NB all photos except the one below © Juan)

But we were able to glimpse chamois on the huge scree slopes that are a feature of the area.

And the rocks, evidence of the huge forces that ripped and contorted them long ago, fascinating monuments.

looking east towards Agnières en Dévoluy

towards La Jarjatte

armchair botanising

A weekend in denial - reluctant to shift our butts into the mountains, where snow has already arrived; instead, tidying the garden and (for Juan) admiring the flower of the moment:

Sternbergia lutea © Mr Sanchez

house warming?

On Saturday we went to a bizarre apéro, chez les voisins who we'd met in the summer - the new build we have had such difficulty accepting. The invitation looked like this:

- with possibly the least flattering angle of the houses possible, complete with building rubble and fencing. Lovely. And the event itself was weird. Not so much a house-warming as a freeze-your-balls-off on the terrace while drinking sangria in 5 degrees. We never saw inside. But it did bring us into contact with the family who have moved into the chalet directly opposite (they of the barking dogs), and also the inhabitants of the old farmhouse flat facing us the other side of the stream (with a screw-loose landlord - not present - who apparently asked them to send him a nude photo of them!; the same guy who abused Juan the day Juan made the mistake of asking him to follow the no-power-tools-during-lunchtime rule - said landlord is now persona non grata in the commune). Another very curious slice of French life...

feeling good in my skin

On Thursday, two days before my "être à l'aise dans sa peau" shiatsu workshop, and after a full-on advertising campaign in all my networks, only two people were signed up. This, despite the August group all professing their desire to continue. It was a real blow and I was doing my best to yield gracefully to fate when Kelli stepped into the breach and said she would come. And then another rabbit popped out of the hat in the form of a late participant. So I had the minimum group - four - needed.

The venue was the Pommart farm in nearby Villeneuve d'Uriage - a kind of model of sustainable living: they grow their own wheat, from which they make/sell bread, pasta (and flour). It's a charmed spot that attracts all those who seek local, high-quality food; a sense of community; and various art/craft/agricultural activities that bring people in touch with like-minded spirits. I was chuffed that they had included my workshop in their autumn promotion and it was in fact out of this mailshot that the rabbit hopped.

The room, heated to a crazy temperature by the new stove, was ideal. And the workshop went pretty well. This is my favourite moment, captured by Kelli - exploring moving between supporting and yielding, in order to get needs met:

Rebecca and Emma - shiatsu? well, not exactly...

Swiss spa weekend

Juan’s new flat at Yverdon-les-Bain is palatial – the living room windows opening onto a south-facing balcony with a view of the Jura on one side and a park on the other; a separate bedroom; and a spacious kitchen. Spotless after a recent remodelling, but retaining the charm of 50s-era doors and cupboards (more storage space than at Vaulnaveys!), it’s situated in a quiet side street. Hopefully Juan will now sleep undisturbed by the buses that woke him early in his previous pad. Most exciting of all, the flat is right next to the thermal spa, wither to (Juan's suggestion!) we adjourned – after the wife had made her mark, repositioning furniture and kitchen items. The home-making instinct is alive and well.

just an internet-connection and an IKEA Poang chair short of a picnic...

view from balcony towards the Jura

My experience of spas is limited (have I even been before?) but what struck me about Yverdon was the inclusiveness – everyone was there: canoodling couples, families, coachloads (who had difficulty understanding “Silence” in the hammam), girly groups, boysy groups. And it seemed a big complex – two outdoor pools and a first-floor relaxation area with hammams, saunas (hard men only in the eyeball-melting 90° heat), a Japanese-style hot tub and an outdoor Jacuzzi with views to the hills. What a luxury to indulge for several hours then walk the 100m back to Juan’s flat, crinkle-skinned, slightly dehydrated and well chilled.

The inclement weather and lack of maps ruled out walking. Instead, we toured around the Jura east of St Croix. Near the Creux du Van we discovered a partly restored hotel-restaurant specializing in trout.

It looked to be the venue of choice for Sunday lunch, the vast concrete-floored “Salle des Fêtes” full of sixty-somethings; the adjacent river alternating between man-made, trout-friendly pools and wild, boulder-strewn cascades. All dripping with moss – the area gets 1.6m of rain per year. We stomped a short way to get a few lungfuls of air:

Driving down towards Lac Neuchâtel Juan poo pooed my suggestion of going to Neuchâtel city – “it’s just blocks of flats sandwiched between the lake and the industrial zone, a Scalectrix of motorways and railway”. But I had a vibe (I know of a shiatsu practitioner and a qi gong teacher in the area). This is the reality:

"The word of God is more efficient and penetrating than a double-edged sword." Scary stuff.

So an interesting, if peculiar, weekend. Strange for Juan because CH, in his mind, is only where he works. So what were we doing there, together? The weekend was somewhat troubling for me because of one thought tending to lead to another: Will Juan come home to France so readily? With more space, will I spend more time in CH? Is there a better way of living as a married couple than the current one? Could I work in CH and commute back to France to run workshops? Or both of us commute to CH together? Where would we live? What about the shiatsu retraining that would be needed? Would I give it up? Could we afford a garden? Would being a "Swiss housewife" eat my soul away? Could I ever get excited about the place...

For the record, forget sleepy Yverdon, Neuchâtel is where it is at:

Beauregard

With Kelli, taking advantage of an unexpected free day, courtesy of Berlitz.

Swinging away from the normal route up through the wood we stopped when hunger got the better of me.

And then back the way we came, avoiding most of the climb! As much as I (or Kelli, with sciatica) could do today.