Last Friday, just before Christie & I got to Sancerre, we ate lunch at a little restaurant near the train station. It was a fun challenge as the wait staff spoke only French, and the menus didn't have any helpful English translations*. Our placemats had horoscopes in French, and on a whim, I snapped a picture of the one that appeared to be Gemini.
My new niece Lola is also a Gemini!
It wasn't until a few days later that I remembered to look up the translation. And although I know this is all made up and just for fun, I was delighted to see the advice this magic placemat had for me:
Do not go alone on vacation. Go duet with luck.
I mean...perfect, right?!
I had such an amazing time on this trip, and while I was alone for much of it, I never felt lonely. And I know luck was with me on several occasions. I was lucky when I discovered the free concert at the Musee d'Orsay. I was lucky when my phone screen shattered into a hundred pieces but the phone itself didn't break at all. I was lucky with the weather. Every. Single. Day.
I was also lucky at 5:15 this morning, when the ticket I'd pre-purchased for the bus was the wrong kind, and I needed 6 euros for the ticket, and I only had 5 euros and 90 cents left in my wallet, and thought I was going to have to beg for change on the bus or, I don't know, walk to the airport?, and then I found one more 50 cent piece stuck behind my health insurance card**.
So I made it to the airport just fine, and had no problems with my 7:10am Nice-to-Paris flight. Luckily (there it is again!) I had several hours between that flight landing and my Paris-to-Minneapolis flight departing, since I had to re-check my baggage and go through security again in Paris, and I am not exaggerating when I report that I stood in line for 2 hours to do so.
The flight back home was great; I'd somehow been assigned the bulkhead seat so I had a little extra legroom. The meals were good and though my seat mate was a little weird, I was able to put in my earbuds and tune her out. I even napped a little!
And so all that was left was to clear customs in Minneapolis, and my epic France adventure would be complete.
Selfie assessment: it was even worse close up
*My salad was a little heavy on the dressing but was otherwise fine; Christie ended up with some mystery meat that was a mystery a little too gross to solve.
**Also, lucky not to have to use the health insurance card.
Rearranging my schedule yesterday and doing both fancy breakfast and the trip to Monaco left me with only one thing on my to-do list for today: the beach.
I almost felt a little guilty about this, like, here I am in in this foreign country and I should see and do everything I can while I'm here, but...I love the beach! And this is my vacation and few things make me happier than just laying out and listening to the surf. So off to the beach I went.
A few days ago, in Sancerre, Natalie's Auntie Carol had asked me about the other places I'd be visiting in France, and when I told her Nice was one of my destinations, she immediately started gushing about how much she loved it there. And I remember specifically she said that she's never seen water in shades of blue as beautiful as those in Nice. And I thought, "Sure, okay, whatever, it's probably great but best ever? Lady, I've been to Greece, and to Crater Lake, and to the Virgin Islands, you really expect me to believe that Nice is going to be more impressive than all of those?"
Yes.
This might be my favorite picture of the whole trip.
The sun, the light, the water, it was just incredible. It was almost hard to lay down, because instead I just wanted to sit up and stare out at the sea.
I did get up to go into the water briefly, but unfortunately there were a few factors working against me there. Firstly, I didn't have anyone to watch my stuff, so I didn't want to get too far away from it. Secondly, the beach was not sand, but rocks and pebbles. This made walking on it somewhat difficult, even more so when I stood in the surf, and the waves swept the ground out from underneath me. And thirdly, it was very windy, so the water was pretty choppy and some of the waves rolling in got pretty big. It was too bad I hadn't had room for a boogie board in my backpack.
So instead I just sat on the beach, happy as a clam, taking good pictures like this...
Stunning coast of Nice.
...and terrible pictures like this:
Selfie assessment: Gaah! Is my face always so puffy in the morning? Why do I look vaguely cross-eyed? And what's up with my hair looking like one of those fru-fru hats that you'd wear to a royal wedding or the Kentucky Derby?
Sadly all good things must come to an end, so around 4 in the afternoon I reluctantly packed up and headed back to the apartment.
I showered and realized I was a little hungry, so I wandered around the Old Town a little bit looking for a good place to eat. I wanted to try socca, a Nicois specialty that I'd seen described as ground chickpeas flattened into a type of pancake. I chose a little bistro off the square, and settled in to enjoy the socca and my last night out.
Pour a little balsamic on the plate and sop it up with the socca and mmm, that was good. (Also good and pictured above- Skipper Stories, True Tales from Disneyland's Jungle Cruise. I think I've found my retirement job.)
I couldn't stay out too late tonight since I have a 5:15am bus to catch tomorrow morning, but I had a little time and decided to spend it walking down to the Place Massena, the largest and most centrally-located square in Nice. I'd ridden through it previously on the city tram, but thought it might be worth a longer look.
What was so cool, in Nice specifically but also in all of the other places I've visited here in France, was how many people were out and about late into the evening. In America we're all so separated in our homes, or if we're outside, it's because we're on our way to somewhere. I don't think we have a lot of public spaces like those that exist in Europe, and if we do we certainly don't use them in the same way. So I really appreciated getting to see the cities here so alive, and the sense of community everywhere.
Did you see the dancers doing their warm-ups and stretches?
Ugh, I don't want this trip to be over, but just like the beach earlier today, all good things must come to an end. I walked back down the Promenade des Anglais one last time to get back to the apartment and pack everything up.
Good night Nice I'll miss you! (Selfie assessment: unsure why I'm in focus and background is so blurry; going to pretend that was done on purpose and picture is "artsy".)
PS- conveniently ice cream shop was along the way back to the apartment!
I took 22,005 steps today, and almost as many pictures.
My plan for today had been to go to breakfast in the morning, and then spend the afternoon at the beach. However, I took a look at the forecast, and saw that Thursday (tomorrow) was looking like the better beach day, as this afternoon called for some rain. So I decided to save the beach for tomorrow, and go to Monaco today instead. It would mean kind of a packed schedule today, but I felt like I was up for it.
I had a 9am reservation for breakfast at La Rotonde Brasserie, in the Hotel Le Negresco. The Le Negresco is the fanciest hotel in Nice, maybe the fanciest on the French Riviera*, and was waaaaaay out of my price range for a stay. And the hotel is only open to guests, so riff-raff like me can't sashay in off the street just to look around. But (thanks to the suggestion in my guidebook) I out-smarted them by making the breakfast reservation, as restaurants patrons are considered guests as well.
Front entrance to the Le Negresco.
Dining on the terrace. Check out the cute little Nutella** in a glass jar!
The inside of the La Rotonde.
Breakfast was a buffet and probably will come in as the most expensive meal on this trip. But it was worth it. There was lots of variety and all of the food was very tasty.
I also felt very posh, dining outside on white linen, looking out onto the Promenade and to the sea beyond it. I'd been offered a New York Times when I sat down which only added to the classiness. And then this foursome of Southern tourists sat down at the table behind me, and they were loud and tacky and the ambiance...well, it was nice while it lasted.
I finished breakfast around 10am, and then hustled to the train station, just barely catching the 10:34am train to Monaco. In Monaco, the classiness continued.
Thanks to all that casino money, even their train station is classy in Monaco.
Upon arrival in Monaco, I followed La Caminade (which seemed to be some sort of pre-set walking path that hit all the major tourist destinations) towards La Palais du Prince, the Royal Palace. The changing of the guard ceremony is performed daily at 11:55am, and that seemed like exactly the sort of tourist schmaltz I didn't want to miss.
Luckily the palace was relatively close to the train station***, since it was at the top of a pretty steep hill.
Almost to the top of the hill, with the main harbor in the background. (Selfie assessment: ugh. Hopefully the awesomeness of the harbor and water and buildings and mountains beyond makes up for whatever that face is I'm making.)
Looking out over the Fontvieille neighborhood of Monaco, seen from the other side of the palace.
The changing of the guard. Really kind of a lot of pomp for, essentially, 2 guys switching spots. But it was pretty cool.
Next I went to check out the Princess Grace Roseraie, a very impressive rose garden in the Fontvieille neighborhood. There were probably hundreds of varieties of roses on display, all in full bloom.
Big
surprise,
I
took
too
many
flower
pictures.
After the rose garden, I continued**** on toward the other end of Monaco, to the Monte Carlo neighborhood. So I guess this is the casino in one of the James Bond movies? I'll make an educated guess and say Casino Royale, but I can't be bothered to look that up for sure.
Facade of the world famous Monte Carlo casino.
I noticed as I was walking up to the front doors that a number of people were being turned away. As I got closer, I could hear the door guards saying "no sport shoes" and shooing people back. Uh oh. I had planned for a possible dress code by wearing a dress and a cardigan, but I hadn't considered my footwear. Thankfully, my mint green sneakers passed muster, and I was allowed in.
In the lobby. (Selfie assessment: was distracted by casino guards admonishing me- I think? they were speaking French- for taking a picture of the casino tables, even though I was not taking a picture of the casino tables, I was vainly taking this terrible selfie)
The last thing I needed to do before leaving Monaco was visit the tourist office, so I could get my passport stamped. Very exciting. And just in time too. As I walked back to the train station, the sky opened up and really rained on me for the first time this trip.
I got back to the apartment a short time later, rested for a little while, and snacked on the leftover pizza. Once the storm had passed, I grabbed a book and walked back to the beach toward Castle Hill. I'd already hiked to the top of one hill today to see the Prince's palace, so I was thrilled that the Castle Hill elevator was in working order.
View of Nice from atop Castle Hill.
There is a lovely park on top of the hill, and I stayed there and read for about an hour, until the park was about to close. Then I walked back down and along the beach, stopping to take a few more photographs along the way.
Sunset over the Baie des Anges, the Bay of Angels.
Pastels in the sky and the water as the sun went down.
My last steps of the day took me to a familiar location- Fenocchio, and ice cream for dinner. Have sneaking suspicion I will be back there tomorrow night too.
*Though, that can't be right because probably Cannes has the fanciest hotels of them all, what with their film festival and everything. But the Le Negresco was indeed very nice.
**Because I am a skilled buffeterian, I managed to include a Nutella item on each of my 3 plates- first Nutella on bread, then Nutella in crepe, then a Nutella donut.
***To be clear, it is a very small country so everything is relatively close to the train station.
****Monaco has a Hop On, Hop Off tour too! It never even occurred to me to look into that as a possibility. I guess I could have bought a ticket right then and there, but I'd already done quite a bit of walking and seen many of the sights, so instead I opted for the poor man's version and rode the city bus. Which, though lacking in informative narration, was extremely easy to navigate and got me exactly where I needed to go, and at about 1/6 of the price, was probably a smart move.
Today started off with the breakfast of champions, raspberry-filled beignets and an Orangina.
Oh my gosh how cute is this town, even the train station?! And do you see the clouds hanging low on the mountains behind the station? So perfect.
Felt it was important to get some vitamin C, as I’m feeling a bit of a sore throat coming on. I’m sure it has nothing to do with drinking out of the fountain yesterday.
I had a full day of travel ahead of me, 3 trains starting at 9am and getting me into Nice at 7pm. I was looking forward to it, as I knew we’d go through pretty scenery getting out of the mountains, and then different but equally pretty scenery in Provence and along the Riviera. When booking the tickets I’d carefully selected a window seat on the right-hand side of the train, so I could gaze out at the Mediterranean as we made our way along the coast.
For the most part the train trips went well. I saw one field of lavender in Provence, but didn’t quite get my camera up quickly enough to take a picture. Not that it would have mattered- I got my camera up quickly enough to take a picture of one of the sunflower fields, and this was the best I could do:
The sunflowers are those blurry yellow dots you see behind the reflection of my cell phone.
The train rolled along, and I believe it was Avignon where things went backwards. Literally. We pulled into the Avignon station, stopped for a few minutes to let people on and off, and then the train pulled out, backwards, unfortunately in the same direction we had just come from. So my brilliant plan of selecting a seat on the right side of the train was all for naught, as I had not anticipated that there'd be any stops where we didn't just keep going in the same direction. Bummer. It was still gorgeous when the train emerged from a tunnel and the bright blue of the water suddenly appeared on full display, it was just the kind of gorgeous that I had to crane my neck around like an owl* to see.
When I arrived** in Nice, I took the city tram to Vieille Ville, the Old Town section of the city. There, I waited in the Place Rossetti square for my host to show me to the apartment.
Darn it, I thought I'd gotten the Brazilian street dancers in this picture, but it looks like they're out of frame.
The apartment I am staying in is just about a block off this main square, which is convenient because I'm confident I'll be able to find the square again, but less confident about finding a random street here in the Old Town. The host never even gave me a street name or number, she just pointed out the lamp shop and said "when you see the lamp shop, turn left". Which, honestly, is way more helpful than the street name anyway.
My studio apartment for the next 3 nights. Love it.
After getting settled in I went back out to get some dinner and do some exploring. I opted tonight for pizza at a cafe in the Place Rossetti.
The 'Quatre Saison' pizza, featuring artichoke hearts, ham, mushrooms, and, hmm, I guess cheese as the 4th season. It was So Good. And in a combination of English and broken French, I managed to ask them to wrap up the other half so I'd have a snack for later- economical too!
View from my table at dinner.
The Airbnb host had told me that the beach was just a few blocks further, so after dinner (and yes, with the pizza in my purse) I walked down in that direction. What totally blew my mind was the number of people still out, walking around, eating and drinking at cafes, or just hanging out. There was an open-air market on the way to the beach with some fun-looking stalls that I'll need to come back and check out more thoroughly later. And then at the beach, more people, sitting or walking, out enjoying life.
Looking to the east, toward Castle Hill.
Looking to the west, with the Promenade des Anglais stretching out along the length of the beach.
Possibly the best part about the location of the apartment is its proximity to Fenocchio, the premier ice cream purveyor in Nice. As I walked back to the apartment, I saw that there were quickly-moving lines stretched out in all directions from Fenocchio, so it looked like getting ice cream from there was a must-do experience, and I mean, of course I want to take advantage of everything Nice has to offer.
Just a few of the 50+ ice cream flavors at Fenocchio. Flavors pictured here include cactus, fig, and something labeled pamplemousse (some kind of fruit?). I opted for vanilla with Kinder chocolate mixed in. Yum.
Another big day of sightseeing awaits tomorrow, so better settle in and get some (blessedly air conditioned!) sleep now.
*Owls- so hot right now.
**Thank you Kaarin, for hacking into my Airbnb account to let the apartment host know the train was running late!
Well, if you’ve ever been on a hike with me, you know there are plenty of things that could possibly go wrong*.
So I’d read about this hike in the guidebook, and basically my takeaway from that was “you can ride the gondola all the way back down the like a loser, but you’re on a mountain in Europe, have some pride, put forth a modicum of physical effort, and actually get out there and do something, instead of just snapping a picture from the cable car like every other ungrateful American”.
I feel like most travel guidebooks are written for people at or approaching retirement age, which is perhaps why I got it into my head that this hike was going to be like 45 minutes long. Also key was that the guidebook described the hike as mostly slightly downhill, with a few brief uphills, and since ultimately you’d still need to take the train to get back to the town, it didn’t really occur to me that this might be a strenuous activity.
Maybe my first warning that things weren’t going to go quite as I had envisioned them should have come at the guidepost, where the posted length for the Montenvers Mer de Glace hike was 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Man, it’s pretty though, isn’t it? And look at all of those other hikers**! If all these people are doing it, surely it must be an activity for everyone.
So this was maybe going to take a little longer than I had anticipated, probably slightly longer than the sign since I’m sometimes a slow walker, but no worries. I was in great spirits, singing Edelweiss in my head and feeling bad for all the chumps on the gondola who were missing this incredible experience.
Selfie assessment: I think we can all agree this is the best selfie of the trip so far.
Then the second indication that I was in for an interesting afternoon was when this happened:
RIP iPhone screen. I’m proud of you for surviving numerous drops at the gym, and that puddle on New Year’s Eve in New Orleans, but the granite of Mont Blanc (or whatever mountain this is) was sadly no match for you. You’ll be missed.
The thing is though, I’ve had the phone for more than 3 years, we’ve had a good run, so even the demise of its screen wasn’t enough to get me down. The rest of the phone appeared functional, so I carried on.
Maybe it was all that fresh mountain air, but I was having a great time. I couldn’t believe how beautiful everything was. And green. Like, really, really green. There were flowers in bloom and bees buzzing around, but not hordes of bees or anything, just a few here and there to add to the ambiance. It was all I could do not to stop every 5 minutes to take pictures like these:
Looking down into the valley.
Looking up at the ridgeline.
Looking forward at the path ahead.
Weirdly during the walk I’d seen a fair amount of scat on the trail, but no animals (other than the bees). The scat seemed fresh so I wondered if there were animals nearby, maybe further up the mountain that I was missing because, well, because honestly the trail was a little uneven, and I really needed to watch my steps closely. I learned quickly that if I wanted to take a look at something, I needed to stop, and then turn my head. If I turned while I was walking, I inevitably tripped. I mean tripped every time. And there were no guardrails or anything up there, so if I wasn’t careful, I was going down.
So I was paying attention to my steps and everything when I heard a clanging noise up ahead. I paused, as did the people in front of me, and the clanging grew louder and closer and multiplied. And then, what do we see come around the corner, but a PARADE OF MOUNTAIN GOATS just out for a little stroll.
Comin’ through!
Man, this is the best hike ever!
Though…come to think of it I had been out there kind of a while. Hmm, well, just keep going, I’m sure the end is coming soon.
Ah, yes, another signpost was up ahead, I felt like I had to be at least 3/4 of the way through, well I mean I hoped I was since I’d been out here for 2 hours already.
Huh. Sign says I still have 1 hour, 10 minutes to go.
That is…that is more than half of the hike left.
And those clouds behind me, they were not the innocent white fluffy ones from this morning. They’re looking a little, uh, gray, and menacing.
Okay, well, no way to go but forward, I said to myself, and resolved to stop for fewer pictures and pick up the pace a little bit.
The really cruel part of this sign placement is that directly after it, so just after you realize that you’re not very far along at all, the trail goes suddenly and extremely vertical. So not only are you dragging about how much is left, but you’re climbing up 8 switchbacks, all in a row, muscles burning and lungs completely sucking wind.
But then you get to the top (almost to the top) and you turn around and there are a few more picturesque goats grazing and you think, “you can do this!”.
I know it looks like a gentle slope, but that is a trick of the camera. It was brutal.
You also think “was that a raindrop I felt? how much would it suck if it started raining while I was up here?”, so then you drag yourself onward.
Maybe this hike would have gone better if I had eaten lunch, instead of just getting a Milka bar*** at the observation deck in Italy, or packed more than one measly water bottle, but no use dwelling on the past now.
I was doing okay and trying my best to keep a good pace going, but the thing that was slowing me down was that the terrain really was kind of rough. There were some sections where the trail was a nice path, but many more where it was nothing more than rocks. So in those I found myself trying to navigate the most level way forward, trying not to step on loose rocks, and trying to keep my balance so as not to fall sideways off the mountain and tumble down into town.
An example of a rocky stretch of trail. This is one of those “brief uphill” bits I’d read about.
This is probably also about that time that I started getting concerned about the time. Not only did I have the impending storm to worry about, I’d seen that the last cogwheel train down the mountain was at 5:00pm. I’d completed a little less than half of the trail in 2 hours, so at that pace it would take me 4 hours to complete the whole thing. And if I had started at 12:45pm, that meant I would finish at…frankly, a little closer to the last train of the day than I was comfortable with.
Finally, I went around a bend and could see a glacial valley opening up in front of me. That must be the Mer de Glace, which means the end of this hike must be near. Great.
Literally no picture has ever been taken of any person, anywhere, that more accurately captures their exact feelings at the moment it was taken than this picture right here. (Selfie assessment: perfection.)
It was shortly after this picture was snapped that the battery on my phone died.
From this point on it was significantly downhill, and while you’d think that would have been good news, I can’t say that it was. Sure, uphill is tough on your cardiovascular and muscular systems, but the problem is that downhill is murder on your joints. And while you can slow things down a little on the uphill to give your lungs a rest, there’s really not any way to soften the blows on the downhill. So my ankles, my feet, my knees- oh my poor knees- they were feeling it.
I finally made it to the train station, which sold a plethora of trinkets and souvenirs but disappointingly no water bottles, and got in line to go back to town. It was 4:15pm. The hike had taken me 3 and a half hours.
Oh, and the gondola to the ice caves had definitely already closed half an hour before.
Met some nice young gentlemen from England on the train, and we chatted for a bit, but I was glad when we parted ways because I wouldn’t have wanted them to see what ended up happening next. As I was walking through town, keeping my eyes peeled for a shop that might sell bottled water, I noticed 2 people standing aside the decorative fountain in the town square. The one guy was taking a picture, but the other guy, he had his hands out and was cupping the water and taking a drink. He didn’t immediately drop dead of bacterial poisoning, and that was good enough for me. I’m not necessarily proud of this, but yes, I filled up my water bottle from the fountain and drank it right on the spot.
You know what though? All’s well that ends well! I trudged back to the hotel, found the strength to put on my swimsuit, and went up to the roof for a well-deserved soak in the jacuzzi. And of course the rain started falling as soon as I walked out on the deck, and of course the jacuzzi water wasn’t even that warm, but no matter. I looked up at the mountains and was overwhelmed with pride, for now I had a visual of how far I’d actually walked, and it really was kind of unbelievable.
I ended the night with dinner at the Bistrot des Sports, a restaurant that’s been in Chamonix forever. The food wasn’t that great and the service was nothing to write home about, but I didn’t care, because it was in that very restaurant that a couple of Chamonix businessmen came up with the idea for the Winter Olympics, nearly 100 years ago.
Pretty awesome day.
*For a prime example, see the 2015 case of Sarah, Beth & Emily v. Mount Roberts.
**Yes, look at the other hikers. Look at how the other hikers are outfitted. Many have legit packs. Some have trekking poles. I’d find out later that those you don’t see with trekking poles in the picture probably just hadn't taken then poles out of their packs yet. I did not have a pack or trekking poles.
***Which was delicious, I’m not knocking the Milka in any way.
Wake up early (remember, that storm is a-brewin') and walk to the gondola station.
Take the gondola to Plan de l'Aiguille*, a viewpoint midway up the mountains.
Take a second gondola to Aiguille du Midi, the viewpoint at the top of the mountains.
Take a third gondola- a télécabine panoramique- to Helbronner Point and back. Helbronner Point is near the Italian side, and the ride across from Midi to Helbronner is supposed to give you stunning views of Mont Blanc.
Re-take second gondola back down to Plan de l'Aiguille.
Hike the Grand Balcon Nord trail to Montenvers and the Mer de Glace, the "sea of ice" glacier.
Take a fourth gondola to the Mer de Glace ice caves.
Ride the cogwheel train back down to Chamonix.
So, maybe a slightly ambitious plan but fairly straightforward. Go up the mountain, see the stuff, go down the mountain.
Things got off to a great start. I was on the 9:20am gondola up to Plan de l'Aiguille, and the weather could not have been more perfect. Sunny, clear skies, and warm but not too warm. I couldn't believe my luck.
I also couldn't believe how beautiful it was.
Panoramic view from Aiguille du Midi.
Selfie Assessment: not bad, but keep in mind this is the best of the no less than 6 selfies I took from this spot (and 15 overall from the Midi observation area), oh and a real thing that happened- someone saw me struggling and just offered to take the pictures himself.
Looking down across the Chamonix/Mont Blanc/(???) valley.
After taking a staggering number of pictures**, I transferred into one of the cute little gondolas pictured below for the ride over to Helbronner Point. The trip was fantastic; it lasted about 25 minutes and took you across what was almost a valley of snow at the top of the mountains.
On the way over there I shared a gondola with an older married couple who did not seem thrilled to be sharing with me, but on the way back I'd get my own gondola, take that suckas!
Note the crazy people hiking in the bottom, just right of center.
I got to the Helbronner Point side and it looked like there was an observation deck there too, so I got out of the gondola to explore a little. And what should greet me but this nifty little sign!
I guess Helbronner Point is not adjacent to Italy, but actually in Italy! Who knew?! No passport stamp opportunity though, unfortunately.
With the Italian Alps and even some of the Swiss Alps behind me. One of those mountain peaks is the Matterhorn. (Selfie assessment: my one eye looks very suspicious of the camera and of course the background is crooked, but I guess this one is fine.)
I stayed just for a little while at Helbronner Point, but then remembered the forecast and figured I shouldn't dawdle too long, and got in the gondola to go back to the Chamonix side.
I thought that was Mont Blanc in the center.
But then I got to this peak and it looked pretty high too, so maybe this one was Mont Blanc?
The view opposite the two peaks that may or may not have been Mont Blanc. I am pretty certain that nothing in this picture is Mont Blanc.
So far, so good! Everything was going according to plan and the weather was still good and it was only about 12:45! What could possibly go wrong...
*Despite extensive pre-trip research, and all the time spent in the area today, I still have no idea how to pronounce "Aiguille".
**And also taking a brief rest to catch my breath because the air is thin up there for real.
