All of us have a favourite place we like to escape to, right? You know, the sort of place you catch yourself daydreaming about on a mid-week afternoon, wishing you could drop everything and just be there.For Kel and I, such a place is a mix of natural, coastal vibe with good food and wine - the Noosas and Dunsboroughs of the world are legitimate candidates - if only they weren't so posh and we could afford them. But, ladies and gentlemen, there is now an elephant in our room of dream destinations, and this elephant happens to wear a beret, bites the ends off baguettes and plays a mean accordion. It's Annecy, it's French, and it's very, very beautiful.
It was, in truth, our second visit to Annecy, which lies an hour south of Geneva in the Haute Savoie province of the French Alps. We had camped there for a few days in the sweltering summer of 2003. I remember leaving our poor little tent to bake in the sun to frolic in the clear waters of the alpine lake that borders the city. This time around we pondered over another bout of camping, but once hotel accommodation in the heart of the historic old town district was secured, the tent never stood a chance.
Our hotel, Le Royal Résidence de Tourisme (http://www.le-royal.fr/), was perfect. It is clean, has a modern fit-out, and while our room was small, it featured a kitchenette for self-catering. Sandra and Elodie, two of the hotel's three concierges, were friendly and immensely helpful - recommending restaurants, a good boulangerie (vital) a
nd laughing politely at French spoken with an Australian twang. In fact, the night we arrived, Kel and I ditched our bags and took a late dinner at La Freti - a 'must' for regional specialties according to Sandra. It didn't disappoint. I ate enough Reblochon cheese (in the fondue and tartiflette) to be constipated for a year. Seriously delicious, as you can tell from our smiles (and I already appear to be sitting uncomfortably).It is ridiculously easy to fill in a day at Annecy. You can wander the cobbled streets of the old town, crisscrossing a canal that connects to the lake. There's loads of cafes and restaurants, boutiques (that have a bizarre penchant for white linen outfits) and, most importantly for Kel, an assortment of glace artisans (ice creameries). You can stroll around, sunbake by, or jump into, the picturesque lake. If you're feeling adventurous and need to be relieved of large sums of cash, you can hire a pedal boat or motor boat. There are enormous mountains nearby that you can hike to, climb up or ride over the top of. Some words of warning though: don't expect to be able to navigate a vehicle in the city centre's one-way road system (I became trapped in a bus-only zone and almost picked up a group of ticket-waving pensioners), and be prepared to drive halfway to Marseilles before you can find a free carpark.
Annecy had successfully bid for a stage in the 2009 Tour de France - a individual time trial around the lake, no less. The crazy travelling circus that is 'Le Tour' had permeated the atmosphere of the city well ahead of it's actual arrival - shop windows were full of posters and yellow streamers, while laneways were adorned with flags made from replica yellow, green and red-polka dot jerseys signifying the leader, best sprinter and best climber of the race.
While the tour had lured us back to this lovely piece of France, Kellie and I came to the conclusion that there are many more reasons why we should return - including a visit during winter to tackle the snow-covered slopes of the Alps. To paraphrase Arnie "The Governator" Schwarzenegger (and because I couldn't be arsed coming up with something original): "We'll be back".
