Paris was at first overwhelming, but my experience improved significantly once I found that you could rent public bicycles by the hour. There’s something magical about flying through streets like blood through veins. And something you may not know if you’ve never ridden in a city is that a bike puts you just a bit higher than everything else. So I got to explore Paris from the perspective of a low flying bird.

What I learned about France almost immediately is that despite what everyone says, almost no one speaks English. Not at the train stations, not at the restaurants, not even at the tourist information center that I visited; so I was left to decipher everything based on the French I’d learned 35 years ago in elementary school. To be fair, it did help me with numbers and directions, but when the announcement came over the metro speaker that there was a problem at my upcoming stop and that I should switch trains to get to my destination, I was left to wonder why everyone had suddenly departed my train.

I find it curious that the French are always criticizing Americans for not speaking French yet they make no effort to speak the language used by all international travelers throughout Europe. And in fact, even in America you can hear transit announcements in multiple languages.

So my inability to communicate and traveling alone made Paris less than the romantic experience I had hoped for, and I decided I would move on as soon as possible to something more intimate. I had in mind some small hill town with narrow cobblestone streets I could get lost among. But I couldn’t legitimately leave Paris without seeing the Louvre, the Eifel tower, or Sacre Couer so I packed as much as I could into as few days as possible and moved on.

You saw my earlier story of trying to move on to my second couch surf with less than ideal results, but my trip to the town of Annecy was exactly what I had hoped for and needed. It is a town on the edge of a turquoise lake nestled in the French alps. They have channeled the lake into a series of canals as it works its way downhill. Along those canals are narrow cobblestone pedestrian paths bounded by ancient stone houses and buildings. As you walk along the paths, you are treated to shop window fronts so uniquely European: pastries, bread, dried meats, cheeses all so neatly on display that you wonder how much it would upset the presentation if you were to ask for one of those lovely raspberry covered tarts.

After three glorious days in Annecy, I headed further into the alps to the resort town of Chamonix to see the razor sharp edges of the mountains that surround Mount Blanc. Unfortunately when I got there, it was pouring rain, but the forecast was for clear skies the next day. I have never seen a forecast so correct. Out of the morning fog arose majestic peaks so close that you could reach out and touch then. These peaks were so grandiose that you practically looked straight up to see them.

While $60 seemed a dear price to pay to take a tram to the top, I was quickly convinced it was well worth the investment. The view I was rewarded with was something I’ve only seen in IMAX films. Pictures are forthcoming.

As I headed back to the tram, I was lucky enough to see a trail sign that said the hiking trail to Chamonix would take two and a half hours. Now I know enough about alps hiking to know that the time posted is the time it takes Swiss people to complete the hike, and I’m extremely proud to report that I completed the hike in two hours!

I decided to leave Chamonix after my trek and headed back to Annecy. There’s a story behind this that I’ll share. I had read that there was a fabulous British hostel in Chamonix, but it turned out to be my most disappointing hostel experience yet. Upon registration, we were told that the breakfast and dinner that had been so highly written up in the Lonely Planet guide was in fact not being offered anymore. And while the hostel only cost $30 a night, we needed to rent sheets for $6 and that the stove would cost $1.50 for 20 minutes. In addition to that, what was described as the communal kitchen was only open at restricted hours that didn’t really coincide with mealtimes. I had traveled there with a Danish couple, and even though we had asked to room together, we were put in separate crowded rooms. The hostel was such a crappy experience that I gave up one night’s payment and headed back to Annecy where I feel I am once again among friends.

A new adventure awaits tomorrow as I head to Nice and the French Riviera.