March 31st, 2018.
Geanine dropped me off at Saint Gervais - Le Fayet Station. It was the Saturday of Easter weekend and most of the stores were closed. A café on the corner, opposite the train station, was open. It was buzzing. Everyone in the town seemed to be there. It was a little chilly outside, so I decided to sit inside. A group of big French guys stood in front of the entrance, speaking loudly to each other. I maneuvered my way through them. They didn't move much to let me through.
I took a table by the window. To my right was the station with the Mont Blanc looming in the backdrop. Buses came in and out, dropping people off while other people stayed in the bus, going to another destination in the Alpes. A big crowd came out of the station, and then...quiet. A couple coming back from skiing sat outside, sodas in hands, skis on the ground. To my left was the bar. Bottles of different alcohols stood on display. Martini, Jack Daniels, Campari, Baileys, and Captain Morgan stood next to other ethanol compatriots. Beneath them stood glasses of all different shapes and sizes. To the side, a draft machine, serving local blonde, amber, and other ales. And of course, a coffee machine, stark white and hiding in the corner.
I waited to order, choosing from the chalk-written menu on the wall. A ham baguette was going to be my pick. I made eye contact with the different workers, waiting for them to make eye contact with me. After a while, an Arabic-looking man yet distinctly French, looked at me and called the waitress to take my order. The waitress greeted me in French. I greeted back with a "Hi". She wore jeans and a black blouse with small white polka dots. Dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Curvy. A French beauty. I ordered my baguette and a cappucino. She quickly walked to a white laundry basket to check for something before she continued my order. Curiosity was piquing regaring what was in the basket! Turned out that they kept their baguettes there!
A cacophony of sounds could be heard at the café. The group of big French guys had relocated to the table behind me. Loud-talking and laughs came from them, filling the whole place. English hit music played, old and new. The trio of noises was completed by the occasional cling of a glass and the churning/distilling of the coffee machine. An old French couple sat at the corner, not speaking much and minding their own business with content on their faces from the espressos in their mouths. News was showing on a small TV screen at the back. Men and women in nice suits and looking as typically French in appearance as one could possibly imagine, shared the latest stories.
The waitress arrived with the cappucino. Chocolate powder was sprinkled on the top. Italian sugar sachets lay on the saucer. Then the chef came out from a black door to hand me my baguette, smile beaming. The baguette came in a black and red paper packet. It was huge! Crunch crunch. I took the baguette out and took my first bite. Quality. It tasted like quality. And freshness, from the bread, to the ham, to the tomato. The cappucino was cool enough to drink by now. I took a sip. Light and creamy. I savoured it all, taking my time to finish.
The waitress and manager moved constantly, engaged in a constant cycle of making coffee, pouring draft beer,a nd conversing with the regulars, the big French guys behind me. The table of men seemed to be the epicentre of attention, overpowering everything else that was happening. Were they a little tipsy? It seemed like it. The waitress moved with efficient sensuality. Her walk somehow seemed to highlight her behind. I tried not to look at her so much, but that proved to be a challenging feat.
Then, it hit me...I'm in a hip café in the valley of the Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe with French all around me. This was a moment, a moment I want to remember. I felt like I could stay there the whole day, but it was time to leave. I hope that it's open again tomorrow.