I awaken at sunrise. Yes. Me. Sunrise. I opened the shutters and take a photo of the sun coming over the mountains and illuminating the lake. We dress and go down to breakfast on the patio. In addition to an authentic continental breakfast, we also had some delicious omelets.
Afterward, we went for a walk through Excenevex. We saw the fountain and stone tubs where we used to get our drinking water when I was a kid. The constantly running water came straight from the Alps. It was probably the first time I drank water willingly as a child as opposed to soda. Now, the fountain is a trickle and there is a sign saying "Non-potable water." Now, it's the tap water that is safe to drink, not the fountain water.
We ended up back at the gold leaf factory where my grandmother used to work. (She moved from the town of Crest in the south to Excenevex shortly after the war as there was more work to be found here than in the south.) If I haven't mentioned it before, it is the last gold leaf factory in France. They used to have a second factory in Paris. They were responsible for the gold leaf that adorns the flame on Statue of Liberty. I was actually trying to find another route down to the lake where I might be able to see my old stone perch, but were intercepted by a man who worked at the factory. I said I was interested in seeing the factory since my grandmother had worked there. He brought us inside and introduced us to his uncle who was, in fact, the son of my grandmother's boss. His name was Bernard and he was very interested in talking with me once he discovered who I was. He and his associate began looking around the office and pulling out old archives of company information and group photos of employees. He was trying to find a photo of my grandmother for me. But he couldn't find one right then. However, he was able to tell me her date of hire and when she retired.
He told us a little of what he remembered of my grandmother. She had a "strong character" as he put it. She was a loyal and dependable employee although headstrong at times. He also walked us over to their house next door and introduced us to "the Mother." My own mother had spoken of this woman, the wife of my grandmother's boss. My mother did not like her and referred to her as "cold." So here I was meeting "the Mother" who did rather eye me up and down upon hearing whose descendant I was. Regardless, it was still fascinating to talk with people that knew and worked with my grandmother. At least they acknowledged that her strong character was actually a necessity for the hard life she had lived: emigrating from Hungary, surviving war, poverty, starvation, disease, and raising four children, making sure each one not only survived the war, but thrived thereafter.
Bernard and I exchanged email information. He was also eager to hear of my mom's younger siblings since they were his old schoolmates. We promised to send each other any photos we came across, either of my grandmother or school photos of he and my mother's siblings. Before we left, we mentioned we were going to Yvoire to see the chateau where my mother used to work as a governess. He said we should look up one of the members of the Yvoire family (that still lives in the chateau). He gave us a name and where to find him in the town.
With that we thanked Bernard for the visit and continued on our walk. I was still trying to find a way down to my stone perch when we passed the empty lot where my grandmother's house once stood. I looked in the distance and felt I could almost see the edge of the hillside leading down to the lake. We had since found out that the mansion with the security guards was now owned by an Arabian oil princess. They also owned the lot where my grandmother's house used to be. But they had forgotten about it until a couple of years ago. That's when they razed the few little houses that were on it. I missed it by a few years.
I looked down at the fence in front of the property and noticed how very unstable it seemed. On one side, there was only a thick piece of wood holding it up from the backside. I looked around and kept thinking about how long I'd waited and how far I'd come to be at this place. Thirty-two years, 6000 miles. Finally, the wood magically nudged itself until that one side of the fence drooped down. Seeing that there was nothing telling us not to enter, I climbed over the corner of the fence and Charles followed me. We got halfway down the property before we were hailed by the next door security guards. They approached me and said I couldn't go further. It took some talking and telling them the story of wanting to see where my grandmother once lived, but they finally let me go to the edge of the hillside to see for myself.
We got to the edge and all we could see was years of overgrown bushes and trees so thick there was no way through. That was finally that. We turned to go back, but the guards would not let us return the way we came. There was already a truck at the fence looking it over for repairs. So they escorted us on the edge of the princess's lawn and had us climb over a waist-high fence on the far side. Afterward, Charles remarked and was impressed by what balls I had to attempt such a thing. Despite it all, we were invigorated by our adventures.
Hungry for lunch, we walked to the beach (the only one on Lake Geneva) and had some delicious crepes at a little spot with a great view of the sand and water. We watched as many kite-surfers had come out to enjoy the breezy conditions. Upon returning to the hotel, we talked a bit with some other visiting folks. We inquired about visiting the town of Chamonix in the French Alps but weren't sure just how far a drive it was. They said it was only an hour or so away. We decided to stay an extra day at Jeanette's and take my mom there since she had been talking a lot about it. The last time she was there was as a teenager on a camping trip. She had always wanted to go back ever since. We called my mom to let her know we would be staying another night and to check with Jeanette if that was okay. My mom let out a scream. She was as giddy as a child at the thought of seeing Chamonix again. Jeanette was more than fine with us staying another night although joked with us about how we'd have to stay in the barn with Romeo.
Finally, we packed up and I said goodbye to my little village. We passed by things that reminded me of my childhood: the paddle boats, the miniature golf course, although the trampolines my brother used to spend so much time on were no longer there. We continued on to the next town of Yvoire where Bernard from the gold leaf factory said we could find one of the grown Yvoire children that my mom might have known. Yvoire is a small medieval village right on the lake's edge. There still exists some of the original battlements in town. Although we were there the night before for dinner, I wanted Charles to see it in the daylight. It is a bit of a tourist trap now with it's restaurants and souvenir shops, but still worth seeing. The chateau is still beautiful and there's a dock where the cruise boats come to pick up and drop off tourists.
We went to the Garden of the Five Senses which is where we were told we could find one of the Yvoire descendants. I asked a lady at the garden gift shop and she had me leave a note to be delivered to Mr. Yvoire's secretary. We continued looking around the village, but it was starting to get late and we returned to see if any response came of my note. Unfortunately, we discovered Mr. Yvoire was out of town at the Protestant festival being held that day in Geneva. But they would still give him my note upon his return.
With the help of our wonderful, borrowed GPS, we made our way through country roads and eventually back to a larger town called Douvaine where we stopped to buy some gift wines to give to my uncle and Jeanette's neighbors. Finally back at Jeanette's my mom and Jeanette had spent the day recounting their life stories to one another. They had 50 years to catch up on. But they joined us as we went to the neighbor's house to give them their wine. We were invited in by Christine and Benoit to sit at their table. (It seemed like we were often invited into people's houses for drinks and snacks where ever we went.) We talked, took photos and consulted with Benoit on the best driving route for the next day, especially for returning back to Crest from Chamonix. He suggested we take the regular road and not the expressway back to Crest. It seemed to make sense on the map....
We also went to Kristin's house to return the GPS she had lent us. We also gave her and her husband a bottle of wine as well for their help and generosity.
Returning back to Jeanette's for dinner, Benoit hinted to Jeanette not to feed us too much. One of the topics of discussion at Benoit's was a dessert called Iles Flottante (Floating Islands). My mother loves it and hadn't been able to find it in a restaurant yet. So while we ate dinner, Benoit was busy whipping up this dessert: Islands of meringue floating in an egg custard covered in hot caramel. Just as we finished dinner, he walked into Jeanette's kitchen with the dish and my mother's eyes just lit up. Jeanette had also made an apple tart earlier that day. It was delicious too.
I'm so glad we didn't leave Jeanette's that afternoon since this was our only chance to really sit and enjoy her company. She was such a delight. And Benoit and his wife Christine joined us for dessert too.
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