When a chore can be fun

When my housemate hurt her foot, it was natural for me to help her close out the chalet for the season.

Chores, shouldn't be fun.

But it was.

The drive to Les Marecottes along the lake and popping in and out of France, the mountains, are always beautiful even if the fall colours are bit dull this year.

Les Marecottes, where the chalet is located in a Heidi-like Alpine village,  is between tourist seasons.

The situation...2 hungry women with all restaurants closed.

The next bigger village down the mountain, Salvan (population 1,215 with a museum dedicated to Marconi who worked there and a plaque to the chef that died on the Titanic) had one restaurant open.

We shared a plate of the local produce before heading back to the chalet.

The next morning, a quick breakfast at the one café in the village that had re-opened and refreshed from a good night's sleep, we were able to sort out what would go to Geneva, what would be put away for next year, load the car, say goodbye to people.

We were off, but starved. If anyone thinks food is important to us, you are so, so right.

The decision to eat on route, took a nano second and we stopped at the stereotypical Swiss restaurant facing yet another pretty sight, a rock cliff. I started chatting with a man who mourned the fact that winter was coming. I have the same DNA as my mother and father...talk to anyone who is willing to talk.

We just had to take a photo of the curtains.

"It's a buffalo my housemate said."

"Beautiful colour, but I see cows."

At the next  roundabout we went back and saw nothing, turned again and pulled off to take photos. We couldn't decide if they were cows, buffalo or some of each. There was no debate how adorable the babies were. None of them bothered to get up to get a closer look at us, but I swear a couple smiled for the cameras.

I've put this photo on Facebook to see if others can decide. Love the suggestions of two people: cowfalos or buffacows.

Continuing on we had to, just had to stop and take photos of the Hotel de Ville (When I first came to France I thought that was a hotel chain with one in each town and village.).

A stop at a friend's house to pick up 3 kilos of chestnuts. Her trees produced a record crop this year. We're not sure if we'll roast them or use them for decoration or both.

The last stop at the post to pick up the mail. My housemate watched as I try to get into a gray car--only it wasn't her car. It left us giggling as we drove through the vineyards and home.

Now none of these things are big things in and of themselves, but somehow each of them made us happy with the exception of wounded foot.

Chores can be fun with the right attitude.