A Well Kept Man

My father arrived in Switzerland the day after the day after Easter (that's not a typo, just me being clever) for a week and half of getting some much needed rest, as well as providing us with a travel companion to the South of France. Our plan took us down into the Cote d'Azur/French Riviera via Italy (through the Swiss/Italian Alps, around Milan, through Genoa, and over into France) where we would spend one evening and explore the surrounding area. After first driving through Monte Carlo (Monaco) just to say we'd been there, we made our first stop in Nice (pronounced the same as you would say your siblings daughter...niece). Nice is a very large city with a seafront drive which reminds one of Miami in many aspects (although sadly I couldn't find any decent Cuban, Mexican, or other Latino cuisine), from nice cars and beautiful people to the lovely beach (except instead of sand they had rocks...oh well...maybe not so much Miami).

Since we had been in the car for about six hours, we all opted for a walking break as we strolled through the city taking in the various old buildings, gardens, and occasional church. On the highest hill in the city stands a park which used to contain a castle, but sadly it was sacked and demolished many years ago. We probably should have stuck around longer and spent more time in Nice but the combination of still having about an hour to our hotel and sleepiness of the driver and passengers led us out of the city before rush hour. After leaving Nice, we drove along the coast en route to our first overnight stop, Saint Raphaël. This would be one of the more memorable experiences of our trip...but not in a good way.

Nevertheless, we decided to go grab some pizza and beer to try and turn our fortunes which made the evening much more memorable. Saint Raphaël is a lovely little fishing town with lots of restaurants, a casino, and a few churches, but we didn't stick around long the next day to explore them as it just seemed a bit overwhelming to stay given our experiences with the rooms and the dog the night before. I sensed my dad was comfortable with skipping breakfast at the B&B that morning when I went to knock on his door and there he was sitting patiently on his bed, suitcase packed and ready to go like he was Raymond Babbitt (from the movie Rain Man)...I agreed and we eventually found some nice pastries at a local bakery. The B&B owner again scolded me for not wanting to stay for breakfast as he had to do so much work to get up at seven in the morning to go buy bread and croissants and whatever, but at that point we didn't care. I apologized, paid our bill, and we left. I can't say this stay was a highlight on our adventure, but at least it provided some interesting memories.

I would like to interrupt this series of posts on Rome to tell you about one of our adventures this weekend. On Saturday, we drove into the Alps (Les Mosses) for a unique experience of watching sled dog races...it was much more fun than either of us thought it would be so we were very glad we went. After having trouble finding the site of the races, I finally gave up and listened to my wife which enabled us to immediately locate the venue (weird how that happens). The first group of racers were competing in skijoring, a form of cross-country skiing where one attaches a leash to their waste and is aided in their skiing by a dog (although recently we heard of a similar event that involved horses, but something about skiing behind a horse just doesn't sound safe to me). I don't really care for cross-country skiing as it requires too much physical effort (which of course leads to sweating), so I'll stick to gravity-aided downhill skiing.

The main event was the dog sledding, which involved a racer on a sled pulled by five to eight dogs. The breed, age, and number of dogs pulling the sled determined in which group you were competing. Most of the dogs were what you would expect, Siberian Huskies, Alaskan Malamutes, and Greenland Sled Dogs, but there were also German Shorthairs, Vizlas, and others that I failed to classify (I never quite finished my online dog breed identification degree...). The races were all Sprints with lengths varying between several kilometers and several kilometers times two (if only it would have been 20 km, I could have used the word "score," instead, I am stuck confusing my readers with odd terminology...er, races varied between about 7 km and 16 km). The dogs were quite vociferous, many jumping all over the place vying for attention from their owners.

The dogs attached to the sleds are the starting line also were extremely anxious to get going. I was amazed at how strong some of these dogs were in their ability to pull a person and sled with little perceived effort (I guess that's what momentum is all about). The common experience however was no matter how hard or fast the dogs started the race, they mostly returned to the finish line with their tongues dragging on the snow and at a pace more aptly described as a saunter or light jog. A few of the dogs immediately rolled around in the snow after finishing, while others had snow dumped on them to help cool them down...which they appeared to enjoy immensely. The weather was perfect for the races, and the sun provided ample heat to make the mountain air comfortable (we also managed to avoid the yellow snow, which was probably a good idea).

(P.S. Don't forget to click on the pictures to enable you to view them in a format that doesn't require a magnifying glass or bifocals)

Alli and I spent a weekend (two weeks ago now) in Colmar, France with our neighbors from Minnesota (Katie the wife/mom/volunteer/Martha Stewart/ice cream + candy dealer/friend/superwoman & Tom the dentist/Wii champion/ice cream + candy consumer/father/friend/fishin' + golf buddy). The town of Colmar is very quaint and decidedly German, even though it is in France. Perhaps it is the proximity to the German border that gives the flavor to this region, but eventually the French side wins out as evidenced by our baguette sandwiches and pomme frites (fries). This area is also in the Alsace region, which is known for tasty wine and other delicacies such as foie gras and Baeckehoffe (think crock pot roast with vegetables, sauerkraut, and wine).

The region is also home to the man who brought the Statue of Liberty to the United States (in fact, there is a scale replica in a roundabout that offers a surreal experience of thinking you are approaching New York city, until you quickly realize that New York city is approached by water not a traffic circle...oh well). The town itself (as well as neighboring towns) was fun for catching up with our friends, window shopping, and grabbing some snacks (mmm....macaroons). On Sunday morning (after staying up past all of our bedtimes to have Alli show us all how to play cribbage while sharing a bottle of Alsatian wine with macaroons) we went on a hike up into the forest to an old castle that appears to have been long since abandoned.

The last few leaves of fall still managed to cling to the trees providing a scenic backdrop for our adventure. Along the way I took plenty of opportunities to snap photos and play like a kid climbing rocks and hanging from "cliffs." The hike passed through the forest for about forty-five minutes until we reached the castle (halfway up required us to ditch our outer layers as the hike was very sweat inducing...thankfully, the clothes were still in our secret spot on the way back down) for our adventure.

The castle itself looked like it would be a great home for many woodland creatures, or fairytale trolls and goblins. Although none were seen, I truly believe that something was up there staying just out of sight as we climbed the castle walls and ramparts. I even managed to scare an unsuspecting dog as we both approached a doorway from opposite directions (let's just say the dog didn't expect to see someone in the doorway...he couldn't decide if he should attack, run away, or just roll over and let me pounce. I had to give him the secret dog owner handshake to restore his confidence that I was neither a predator nor prey, but merely a friend).

I also took the opportunity to snap some pictures, but mostly I just enjoyed the scenic expanses, sights, and smells of autumn...and trolls.

This guy was awesome. I have always wanted to see a St. Bernard with a cask of brandy around his neck, now I have...I am not sure how much he weighed, but it was certainly more than me. I didn't get a chance to stand by him but I would guess him to be around 30 inches tall at the shoulder and somewhere slightly more than 200 pounds.



The second dog I saw was a North Greenland Nordic dog. They use them for all sorts of sled pulling activities. There were about 20 - 30 of them but they were all sleeping, so I don't have any action shots. They basically look like a husky but are slightly different in appearance (although I couldn't really tell the difference other than the coloring). It would have been cool to see them pull a sled, but that will have to wait for my next visit.

As seen outside the grocery store nearby. You can't tell but he is actually in compact dog parking. Typical sports utility dog driver...just parking wherever they want.