“There is nothing quite like climbing to the top of the Alps and looking down upon the earth. Everything in the world suddenly makes sense.” – Unknown

…Regardless of its size, Finhaut was lovely and the people, friendly. And the house, was amazing. It sat alone on the top of a hill at the edge of the village. We had to walk through snow to get to it, as the road to get to it, well, just ended.

It was three stories. Extremely rustic. Literally, woodstoves and fireplaces. Minimal electricity. We always worn layers & hats to stay warm and had to sleep under down comforters. If we let the main fire go out in the middle of the night, we could see our breath in the morning, until the fire got going.

It made me think of what it must have been like in earlier times in our history. Rising with the sun. Sitting by the fire at night. Literally no distractions. This was before cellphones, portable video games or the internet. A week of bucolic, simple living. Lots of bread, cheese, chicken paprikas and wine. Phil’s chicken paprikas was delicious.

I can’t remember if there was a tv or not. If there was, it was never on. I just remember people reading books & a lot of evening sing-a-longs (and some dancing) to a combination of 60’s & early 70’s folksongs + Paul Simon’s Graceland & Rhythm of the Saints. Friends of the family from France and Geneva came to visit, eat, drink, laugh… and talk in languages I had no idea what they were saying.

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