After our little jaunt in Annency our next point of call was the Italian border! Making a grand total of 3 countries in 7 days (or 8, who knows?).
Heading for La Thuille where the Mama&Papa go skiing in the winter we drove through the French ski resort 'La Rosier' which is super pretty and still buzzing in the summer.
After salad, crepes, vino and a bit of food shopping we marched on over to the border.
Obviously not in the mood for an English camping family, the border trolls let us straight through. They obviously thought that the TERRIBLE road conditions down to La Thuile would off-road us and give them their chance at capture, however we managed to manoeuvre the pot holes, avoid the cracks and not veer over the unrailed edges.
But don't be put off! La Thuile is a lovely little place– no matter how awful the road into it is! It's all river and big looming mountains.
On our way down– just over the border– we decided to go climb on a glacier. Yes, that's right, a glacier.
An extremely small one, but a glacier none the less!
Who'd have thought we'd be throwing snowballs on a summer-sun holiday?
Our time in La Thuille was really cute as Ian&Ange usually only see the place 9 feet deep in snow, covered in cool winter-sports peeps.
After a quick tour of their previous accommodation and a gander at the ski lifts we flew on up one to the top of the nearest run.
The view going up there was seriously picturesque, not a sound in the air. Until you get about half way up and you're sitting there thinking "what's that noise?" As you get closer and closer to the top the "noise" starts to sound like dance music, until you realise it is dance music. Dance music? At the top of a ski run? In the summer?
Meet the hut. Not its real name, but that's what I christened it. And yes, that's a pool. And no, the pool is not there in the winter. And don't worry, I asked the same question.
This is the kind of place that can make you feel really uncool. Especially when your surrounded by tanned Italians and a smooth DJ. But I persevered, scribbled our name in an extremely hard to find gap on the wall of fame (which I had apparently done wrong so Ian did wrote it somewhere else) and ordered a bombardino, like a true Skier (even though we weren't skiing and I haven't been skiing for about 4 years and we didn't even know what bombardino's were back then).
Now. Here's a little lesson on bombardino's. They're hot, strong, covered in cream and loaded with calories. Skiers have one to keep the frostbite at bay and summer campers have one to... Oh wait, we had no excuse!
Sunbathing done, hot drink-drinking unfinishable we glided back down the ski run via the lift, taking in the kind of view you'd quit your job for.
Back in the village we went perusing the ity-bity shops to buy some local parma ham, focaccia bread, proper buffalo mozzarella and good ol' Italian vino to take home! The Italian men working in the butchers were super friendly. The fact that one of them was very cute has nothing to do with that of course...
That's one of the super friendly guys, the cute one was inside (obviously to shy to come out).
One terrible road out of La Thuille later, we were on our way back to France (where the roads improved immensely) and just as we were about to go over that invisible line, we saw this
Yes, we may have seen it on the way in, but now we were looking for somewhere to camp. And what better place?
The day was finished with locally sourced food, Italian and French, against one of the most beautiful backdrops mother nature could have ever painted.
And I met this little dude on my way down to the lake.
I should have kissed him, shouldn't I?