Chamonix’s hidden secret
- rnv178
- Jun 5, 2022
- 4 min read
Updated: Jun 6, 2022
Travelling is meant to be fun, and I suppose it is, but sometimes the light switches in hotels make me question my enjoyment. Few more so than those in our Chamonix room. There are dozens of switches. Some are behind doors, others beside them, while a handful need a detective to discover. There are a few that click this way and that but clearly serve no purpose, and others that do not click, work, or even function. Essentially, we are lost, confused, and dumbfounded. He controls a down-shining spotlight on her side of the bed while she controls the same on his. The scope for disharmony is massive. Go to sleep? Certainly, but be prepared to wake up moments later with a spotlight in your face, while the room lacks an idiot’s guide as to which does what for who.
We have lost count of the number of times we have been to this mountain town of Chamonix-Mont-Blanc. We have had Christmases, New Years, and Easters, birthdays, and plenty more. We have skied, climbed, jogged, and cycled and have even used its hospitals when a child broke an ankle thanks to a wonky Telemark ski. Yet however much the place can frustrate us, it has a remarkable history. The first Winter Olympics were run here, in 1924, and its Aiguille du Midi gondola still holds the record for the highest vertical ascent of any cable car globally. Not bad for a town with a population of less than 10,000. Mont Blanc, all 4808 metres of this tallest mountain in Europe, towers over Chamonix and has more routes up it than there are light switches in our room.
Yet walk along Chamonix’s main street, the rue du Docteur Paccard, named after the local medic who in 1786 was the first to reach Mont Blanc’s summit, and you might wonder why some of the town’s five million annual visitors have come at all. There are plenty barely dressed for the seaside let alone Alpine peaks, a handful who are chubbier than perfect, and dozens sporting spotless mountain equipment that may never see a footpath. Many come to Chamonix simply to be seen.
We have set ourselves a challenge as we journey across Europe. A century ago, it would not have been an issue. It is the postcard, you see, as we have pledged to send one to England when we can. The postcard may be instinctive to older travellers, but to those without wrinkles it now seems strange. The idea was first born in 1869 when a Viennese economist proposed a faster and cheaper option than a letter. The correspondence card, the postcard’s original name, was born. Its peak era was the early 20th Century but in the last decade alone the number of postcards used has dropped by at least two-thirds.
“Carte postale?” we ask when walking into a shop. The response is so often a shrug as the assistant returns to their mobile and thumbs out emails, texts and images.
Chamonix, at least, has a few places where postcards can still be found although rarely, if ever, do we see fellow visitors perusing the cards on sale. Buying a postcard is the first test, posting it is the second, and only after we have found a postage stamp that must be licked soggily into place. French letterboxes are meant to be coloured yellow but in Chamonix that does not always apply. Grey, with a touch of rust, seems common.
To foreigners, for that is what we are, a postbox can look to be a rubbish bin. Large, off colour, positioned in a shaded corner, stained as dogs stop to lift a leg, quite possibly we have it wrong. It may be that today’s postcard to England will never get there and has actually been thrown away.
A hidden secret that few associate with Chamonix is one I discovered some years ago. Flan natur, essentially a flan-based vanilla custard, that many of the town’s bakers and patisseries put on proud display. This heavenly dish also has a history, which is my sad excuse for being addicted, when actually I am just greedy. Flan natur can be traced to ancient Rome when egg surpluses were turned into custards to produce both sweet and savoury tastes. The Spaniards took it to the USA and probably well beyond. Flan natur even survived the collapse of the Roman Empire.
I simply cannot walk past the stuff without stopping and will guzzle it wherever I can. I know a single slice carries 450 calories, far more fat than is healthy, enough sugar to sweeten anything, and barely any fibre at all. But that is not the point. Flan natur is lovely. I would inhale it if I could.
It is why, during this short stay in Chamonix, I am the most frequent customer to the baker across the road from the hotel. The baker knows a sucker when she sees one. That sucker is me.
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Stayed at:
Hotel Mont-Blanc
62 Allée du Majestic
74400 Chamonix Mont Blanc
Tel: +33(0)450530564
Email: info@hmbchamonix.com
Ate at:
Chez Yang, 17 rue du Docteur Paccard, 74400 Chamonix Mont-Blanc
Tel: +33(0)450531835
Web: www.chezyang.com
Email: chezyang@orange.fr
Aux Petits Gourmands, 168 rue du Docteur Paccard, 74400 Chamonix-Mont-Blanc
Tel: +33(0)450530159
Web: https://boutique.petitsgourmands.fr
Email: contact@petitsgourmands.fr
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