Adventures on bike - part 2

Denis’ girlfriend came from Russia this week to visit him, and was staying at Les Deux Alpes ski resort, so he planned to go up Saturday with the ski club, teach his snowboarding lessons, and then stay with them for the remainder of the weekend.

As bikes often get stolen if left overnight anywhere, I offered to make a second trip and ride it home for him when I got home from Les Deux Alpes that night.

His bike has always revealed his “other side.” While normally he appears a very elegant, well-dressed, gentle young European man, he rides a funky cheap bmx bike (brand "TopBike") he bought in Paris last year.

From all the jumps he’s taken it on during his time in Paris and Grenoble, the seat is no longer able to retain its elevation and thus he rides super low. The pedals, also showing symptoms of over-jumping, wiggle to the point that one dares not stand and pedal, and even doubts whether or not they will hold on for the ride home; and it has a consistent and rhythmic squeak at every right downpedal.

And so here I am, late another Saturday night, riding low on a funky cheap bmx bike, rhythmically squeaking and wobbling, in my huge black puff jacket, and feeling quite the thug.

I think I even saw a few people cross to the other side of the street when they saw me coming.

Armani makes snowboard bindings?

I could not imagine getting any more lucky with my living situation here in Grenoble – my roommates and I all get along spectacularly well. They’ve become the brother’s I never had (at least around my age, that is), and we have an absolute blast together, from cooking to skiing to going out…

I came home for lunch the other day, and Denis bursted excitedly (in the reserved, very cool way he does) out of his room and asked me to come give my advice on his snowboard. I looked at him funny, as I know nothing about snowboards, and certainly not more than he, but he insisted.

He had just bought a new set of bindings for his gorgeous cobalt blue board, and wanted my stylistic opinion. You’d think he’d know better after living with me for the past 5 months…

The bindings were Burton, make no mistake, and a lovely clean white. Quite stunning on his cobalt blue board. But alas, they were a size just a little too big. Easy call for me – I said, “so exchange them for the ones that fit! I’m sure that’ll be safer and much better.” However, it was a little more complicated than that. They only had red in the size he needed, and that just is not possible with his blue board. He would look the fool in the snowpark.

* * *

The next day, he bursts even more excitedly through the front door at lunchtime, and I ask him what’s up.

“I exchanged the bindings.”

“Oh, you went for the red ones?”

“Well, no, you see, in fact, they’re actually burgundy!”

I smiled and nodded.

“And what’s even better is that the white ones would only have gotten dirty really fast, and the red ones show the B of Burton better anyway, and so can be seen better from afar.”

I couldn’t contain my giggles any more, and after a moment he joined me, appreciating the silliness.

“But seriously, these things are important in the snow park!”

Adventures on bike - part 1

What does a student in Grenoble do when invited to a friend’s apartment across town for a Raclette and is the only one with the Raclette machine?

Simple, really. Remove it from the box, cram it in the gargantuan North Face backpack she used to lug all her climbing gear and clothing from home, strap it down, strap it on, and start pedaling!

And the best part is she’s not the only one traversing Grenoble on bike late on a Saturday night with a huge gear-loaded pack.

This time I rode with a grin wider than usual, laughing to myself at the concept – Anyone who sees me must be saying, “oh, she just got back from the mountains,” and while they would be right, they would never guess what ‘gear’ I have in my pack...”

For those few minutes, I felt very, truly, proudly Grenobloise.

Bar hopping in Grenoble

Time since the New Year has flown like no other. Time always has a way of flying, but this time it must have taken the Concorde to some unknown destination where it broke down at the airport thus obliging at least 2 weeks of repair work before taking flight again at which point it had several backed-up trips to recover before it finally arrived.

Which would explain why I haven’t seen Nico (Mathilde’s boyfriend), Mathieu, and Olivier since before the break.

But I got a fabulous text message from Nico last Friday night which I had not the heart to delete:

« Ce soir rando à Chamrousse, depart 19h de Grenoble. Ski ? Raquette ? Luge ? »

“Tonight, ski de randonée at Chamrousse ski resort, leaving 7pm from Grenoble. Ski? Snowshoe? Sledding?”

I was tempted to get a cheapy plastic sled from the grocery store and head up with it strapped to my back, but decided instead to pull out my hiking boots which would have to serve as snowshoes and my downhill skis for the decent.

I somehow seem to show up ill prepared for every adventure I have with Nico – and it often involves having a huge backpack full of way too much food or something bulky and impractical to lug a long ways… But I have at least become accustomed to these types of adventures – what better way to learn to do better the next time, right? Ahem.

We set off around 8pm for the summit of the ski resort, following the resort’s slopes towards the little building lit only by a few lights and the glowing full moon. I was pleased to keep up with little difficulty most of the way, but on the iced-over black slopes I found no respite even on the snow to the side of the slopes.

A strange combination of digging my ski poles into the ice, kicking the hill to make little toe-sized stairs, and sometimes just trying my best to increase friction in any way possible, I finally arrived at the summit, completely beat and totally content.

In French we say “tout le monde” when we want to talk about “everyone” or “a lot of people,” but the literal translation is “all the world.” After about 10 minutes at the summit of the resort, it seemed as if, indeed, the whole world had arrived.

Mathieu and Olivier were giggling to themselves and explained to us how they had been in a bar the night before with nowhere near as many people as were here at the summit with us.

Though it would have been nice to not be surrounded by a crowd of people after our very relaxed and quiet climb up, I must say that I do love the priorities of the Grenoblois.

After a nice cup of tea, a few more warm layers, and some of my favorite French cookies, we geared up for the decent.

I am never at ease when I cannot see, and my night vision is absolutely terrible – so, naturally I was a little nervous as we started the moonlit decent. But quickly the concept and the spectacle of it all hit me. Skiing by the light of the moon.

Deep breath, loose hips, and I let myself be guided by the glow of the snow…