Home again

Ski break has begun and I have packed my kids into a fully-lowded car and made my way from Paris to the Swiss alps a day early to avoid all the Parisian holiday traffic heading south to the mountains. I got stuck once in the 12 hours sluggish ride from the alps towards the capital with what seemed like Paris' entire population on a Saturday... NEVER, EVER again.

A swift seven hour drive and we arrive just in time before the stores close. We slip in to get our skis checked by the villages' two old boys that run the local sports shop, les messieurs Duperrez, that says it all, doesn't it? The Duperrez brothers have seen me turn up every winter like clockwork for the past 45 years. No wonder, this place feels like home. A little chat and a promise that our skis will be ready for us to hit the slopes the next morning.

That evening while sitting in the living room of the old wooden chalet, cuddling up infront of the fireplace, I listen to the church bells chime, just like they have been ever since I was a little girl. The snow is falling outside and my world is at peace.  I am home again!

Winterferiä i de Schwiiz... alle Jahre wieder!

Winter Wonderland still the same after all these years

Home, sweet home!

The local church where we've celebrated weddings and funerals.

Welcome to our cosy chalet!