raquette and raclette

Here i am in Annecy, resuming the marionette tour. I shall not put any photos up as they are stuck in my camera as the madrid blog is stuck in my mac. Besides, this corner from which i am blogging, on the canal looking over to the lake, is apparently the most photographed spot in France.

On our day off the three girls in the orchestra, all of 1964 vintage (a good, if bottom-heavy year) went up into the Alps to wear strange shoes called raquettes and flap around in the snow. Though it does not quite have the power of the sea for me, I began to understand the infinity contained in this garden of of crystalline white, with it's 365 degree view of the Mont Blanc mountain range. The last time I saw anything like it was in Nepal, waking up in a tent to dawn in the Himalayas, and the alarmsong of our guide: "Tea Didi" "Tea Thuldai" (Tea for little sisters - my two girlfriends, and for big brother - me).
The diet isn't going very well as you cannot escape cheese here. The fondue aux cepes was delicious, in a restaurant whose walls were decorated to look like a raclette - like feasting in a vat of yellow lumpy custard.
I took a walk around the lake in the morning and sat on a piece of wood contemplating the clarity of the water, untarnished and straight from the mountain like pure consciousness. Hoping to rediscover that sense of stillness tonight in the perf!
Meanwhile Julian is at home trying to digest all the masterpieces, with the help of half the cubi it seems.(Leave some for me, darling!) He is dreaming of interweaving brushstrokes and on day one did 'A Huge Bonnard' to get it all out of his system. I can still feel his hand leading me accross matisses and picassos to a little Corot or Bonnard that touched him.