Je voudrais me faire couper les cheveux. SVP

Just got my hair cut. I'm not sure what amazes me more, the amount of french words I do know, or the amount of french words I don't know.

I think the hairdresser would agree that it's far more incredible the amount of french I don't know. Thank god for pictures and my ability to point and say "comme ça." If I have such a nice new hair cut, then why do I feel like such a failure? (don't worry Yuval, it was out of necessity - you're still the best)

Faire sauter la radio!

One peice of advice one often gives when learning a new language is to listen to music or the radio in that language.

That is not an easy feat in France. As I sit here and study my french everyday, I turn on the radio. What I hear is very little french. En fait, ce que j'ecoute est les même quatre chansons d'Americain....

It's worse than Canada pop radio. I think the only thing I've memorised is the lyrics from the latest Justin Timberlake song. Greeaaaat. Listen for yourself here: http://www.nrj.fr.

There is one benifit though. They don't sensor American hip hop. Does anyone realize how dirty that music is? My virgin ears...

F* THAT!

J'ai quatre jours, et comptant...

Not too much happening here in Paris. Juste une semaine tranquille.

Maybe I'll take in Musée D'Orsay or something.

The big focus for this week is to get strong and get ready to climb. In four days, I head here:
I know what you're thinking. It's really gonna suck being around all that warmth, palm trees, water, and sun.

I think my calves are ready for me to go running again (I've been hobbling for a couple of days). For now, I'll hobble down stairs and warm up my quiche that I bought at the boulangerie this morning.

J'ai faim!

PS. J'ai decouvert un groupe incroyable de Cuba/Paris. Ils s'appelle "Orishas." Check them out at www.orishasthebest.com. The El Kilo album is amazing. Listen to it online.

C'est tout.

Santa's little helper & one month report.

If you are a Simpson's fan, then you will certainly know Santa's Little Helper. The Simpson Family dog. You see, there is an often replayed episode where they are attempting to train SLH because he seems to be getting into everything.

The problem stems from the fact that SLH simply doesn't understand what the Simpsons are saying. To him it sounds like "blah blah blah blah blah blah blah..."

I feel like Santa's Little Helper.

With everybody.

Mildly frustrating and exhausting, largely because when we converse in our mother tongue, we don't listen. We hear. Ever try listening to an entire conversation? I mean, disect every single word someone is saying. Now, try it over dinner, for like an hour. You'll need a nap after - or at least a stiff drink.

Things are improving daily however, with every new colloquilism and new word I learn I get more every day. By the way if you want to know if some one wants you to take out the garbage it's, "Est-ce que tu veux que je descende la poubelle." and NOT "Est-ce que tu me veux descendre la poubelle." Which emplies we'll have a bit of a romp down the stairs with the garbage. Which I asked Jean Pierre, Emilien's dad. Fun perhaps to some, but not grammaticaly correct.

So, anyways, The Simpsons episode ends with SLH finding redemption and finally understanding the commands. (well, more like...blah blah blah sit. blah blah blah stay).

I have a month and a half to find my redemption. God help us all.

D

Un weekend en Normandie, Une coïncidence Canadienne

Here, 'Vache' isn't just a french climbing term.

A typical Norman resident.

So, to my unexpected delight, I got to spend a weekend in Normandy, 2 hours west of Paris - where Emilien's uncle lives, and where his father grew up. Em's uncle Claude runs a small (and organic) farm. But in a strange set of coincidences the farm is also epicentre in an area of signifigant Canadian history. You see it was here:

1. That the first, and most French Canadians came from. There is even a museum dedicated to it. If you know anyone with the last names "Pelletier, Gagnon, Tremblay, Rivard, Fortin, Bouchard and Drouin;" this is where they came from. Including Samuel Champlain, who founded Quebec City and gave us the name "Canada."

I think he also brought small pox, but hey, you can't win'm all.

Where Andrew McBurney's forefather's lived.

2. A few km's down the road is an area called the Falaise Gap. Where the final defeat of the Germans occurred at the end of WWII, just prior to the liberation of Paris.

Falaise Gap. Much more beautiful without all the carnage.

Typical Normandy Road. Great for a jog. If you like that sort of thing...

Other than a history lesson, I also got an opportunity to sample some great regional Normandy cuisine, hospitality, and a great jog through the Normandy countryside. I was told if I just kept going "à droit, à droit, à droit" that I would have jogged 3kms. I'm not in great shape, and with the hills, 3kms is about just enough for me. Turns out, Emilien's dad (Jean-Pierre) MEANT to say 8kms. It was both beautiful and gruelling. But I can proudly say that I did it in 45 minutes. Not bad for a guy who doesn't do cardio.

I can't walk today. My calves are killing me.

Emilien preparing a traditional Normandy dish. Tartlette du Chienne. It was delicious.

à tout à l'heure...

Paris au Soleil!

Well, after nearly a month in Paris, I experienced my first full blown sunny day. Just like any city - it's completely different when it's sunny. The energy in Paris today was incredible.

Look, they made a real life sized version of those flashing things you buy in the souvenir shops in Paris!

Here's a photo (self portrait) I took today at Le Palais Royal. You can see (if you look real hard) that I am slowly becoming Parisienne. I now own "une écharpe" (scarf, which is standard issue in Paris), and some fancy stylin shoes (the second pair I've bought since coming to Paris. When did I become such a fashion whore?) The Paris "soldes" are amazing. With prices so low, they make China Town look like 5th Avenue. I have to wonder though; what was the little child's name who made my new shoes? Because I should send him a thank you card or something. He did such a nice job.

On the plans front - finally starting to figure out what I'm doing in March. Looks like I'll be heading down to Marseille to climb with Victor (Canadian living in Paris - climbers, you'll remember Victor as Ian Lee's friend whom he climbed the Nose with). Then I'm gonna travel the coast for a few days, then head up to Grenoble in the Alps to meet up with an old friend Jakob Verbeek. I'll be staying with him for a couple weeks - and we'll be doing some more climbing.

But for now, I just need to figure out what I'm doing for dinner.

à tout à l'heure...

PS. Big up congrats to my cousin Mike and his girlfriend Nadine on their recent engagement!

Tignes, France - 6th day miracle in Mountain heaven

Here is a small portion of the terrain in Tignes / Val D'Isere, France. Allow me to point out where you can ski in this photo. EVERYWHERE.

"If you're Canadian, why are you skiing here?"

Was a question that I was asked a few times. While the west coast of North America has unrivaled powder and few people, there are still some great reason to ski in the Alps. Such as:

1. NO RULES. Wanna ski over there? Go ahead. No limits, No liability issues, No rules. You get hurt off-piste (aka 'out of bounds'), it's your fault. I like that - stupid people shouldn't be in the mountains. The skiable terrain is about 20 TIMES the size of Whistler. Oh, and most of the backcountry / off piste is lift accessable. Oh, and daily free avalanche rescue courses and practice areas...

2. History. These are the very same mountains that essentially gave birth to mountaineering. The history of great mountaineers surrounds you. Impressive, especially when you can see Europe's highest and most famous peak, Mont Blanc, from most parts of Tignes.

3. They still get lots of snow. Don't believe the hype. We found tonnes of knee deep (or deeper) powder, and no competition for first tracks.

4. 4 Canadian dollars for a bottle of Bordeaux.

The ski village of Tignes at 2100 meters above sea level. (photo taken at 3456 meters)

Ok, now let me quickly tell you about the trip.

6 days of skiing...

DAY 1 & 2: Both bluebird (clear sky) days. Breaking my ski legs in. As most of you know, I ski telemark. (go to www.telemarktips.com if you need to know what that is). Which means that just about every part of skiing is harder for me. If it takes an alpine downhill skier 20% energy to do something, it takes me 90% of my energy. Add to that, elevation. We're skiing at 8000 to 11,000 feet. Air is a whole lot thinner. Even putting my skis on sends my heart and breath racing. Feel like throwing up at moments. Wicked.

Still, I do my best to keep up to my guide, and friend Emilien, who basically grew up in these mountains. He's an incredible skier, and I am the luckiest damn skier in the world to have him show me around. However, the pain and agony that I put my body through trying to keep up in unexplainable. I lied in the bath tub for over an hour the first day.

DAY 3 & 4: The word for flu in french is 'grippe.' As in, it had it's icy grip on me, and I struggled to ski hard through it. Succombing to it by noon on day 3 and skiing heavily medicated on day 4. My body is destroyed.

DAY 5: Flu is killing me. Can't ski. Can barely make it to Tignes Du Lac to check my email. Stay in bed most of the day. No matter - it's dumping mega snow. Must rest up for final day tomorrow.

DAY 6 (final full day): A beam of light pokes through the curtains. Wakes me up. Look out side to see a perfectly clear day, after 3 days of snowing. I FEEL GREAT. No wooziness at all. We quickly get ready and head out.

Today's itenerary - all the classic off-piste / backcountry tours and couloirs. I can't tell you how amazing they were, and how much fresh powder we found - but it was one of the best days of my life. This place is incredible. So many spots where we were the only ones around, just skiing from one couloir to the next. After my trip is over, I'll post all photos and videos. Until then, you can enjoy these, as I have to write a thank you letter to the makers of Advil.

L'Aiguille Percée

Dropping the first couloir of the Vallon De La Sachette tour. Steeeep. Wicked.

The long, but amazing and beautiful tour under Dome de Pramecou. Each step is max effort at 10,000 feet. Huff huff, puff, puff...Emilien appears to be unaffected. Damn him.

Emilien dropping into the final set of couloirs on the final day. Unbelievable. Unforgettable.

Cheers. D.

This place is dead: Looking for a place to happen.

Me doing my best impression of a Versaisienne tourist deep under Paris.

How many dead people is enough dead people? I bet you would never find yourself asking that question. But after walking in what seems miles of bones in the Paris Catacombs, I would have to say 6 million. You get to a point where you're just hoping for a crêpe stand to pop up, just for a change in the scenery. That being said, it was pretty freaking cool. Worth a trip if your ever in Paris.

Now for something a little more up beat...

Tomorrow morning we leave for Tignes in the Alpes for a week of ball bust'n, hard core, take no prisoners type skiing. Giddy up! So, since I don't know what my internet options will be like there, be prepared to be blogless for a week. I hope to update, but there is no guarantee.

D'accord, Je dois faire mes valises pour demain matin...