"Who sees this?"

It something Dennis and I had begun to say to each other during our first visit to France together last summer.  Every direction we looked, we saw something amazing.  We experienced things that most people just never get to.  It left us feeling awed.  And we feel it still.

This visit is no different.  So far the weather has been very kind to me. None of the humidity that I feared. Clear skys and cool breezes.  We haven't needed to plug in our tiny portable AC unit, not even once yet.  And now that we have the mosquito net, I am practically without bites.  Horray!!

Yesterday we spent the day allowing cousin Bernard to drive us up and into the Alps.  We wove in between France and Italy, winding our way through roads that disappeared into nothing just beyond the edge of the car. The air was cool and clear, it gave you the feeling that you were the very first person to breath it.  We drove right to the top, above the tree line.  There were quite a few people along the way but its not surprising since this is the vacation season for most of Europe. Cyclists and 4x4 drivers alike, rumbling along roads that have been carved along the side of the mountain. The view constantly changing as you turn each corner and always the feeling that you should be yodeling.

Dennis loves all things historic and especially WW II artifacts so we walked through a desserted army barracks.  With the roof and all other bits of wood gone and only the stones to testify to where man had left his mark, we wandered through the ruins. Amazing that this building was placed at the very top of the mountain, surrounded by nothing all around. Where did the stone come from? What was it like to be here over 60 years ago......all that work for the sake of war. It felt so gloomy and desolate, walking in the shadows of those walls.

Even with the hot August sun in the cloudless sky above us, there was a feeling of chill that I am certain never completely leaves this ruined spot. Only imagine what it must look like in the darkest hours of winter.

We stopped in a local sky lodge area and feasted in the sunshine as only the Europeans can. Lamp and fresh veggies, bread and bread and more bread along with local cheese and a blueberry tart that my husband fought me over every single bite. Lunch took several hours and the break from sitting in the car was lovely.  Soon we were off again, driving roads that no 20+ Mercedes should be able to handle.  Bernard, our fearless guide, knew the story of every nook and cranny we passed.  There was always a waterfall to investigate or a mountainside farm to stop at and buy cheese and honey.

Literally, we were driving one moment, climbing along when we crested the very top of the mountain. Along a valley to our right was a tiny house and one car parked in the drive. There were the sound of cow bells tinkling from the cow herd walking by.  Bernard urged us to go buy some cheese.  'From where?' I thought.  But without hesitation, we left the car behind and walked down to the house.  There was no sign and no sign of life. But sure enough, within the open door was an Italian woman wearing an apron and gesturing for us to come in.  She let us sample her stock and we purchased not only cheese but honey as well. 

Back into the faithful car and off we go again.  Winding through tunnels and rock strewn roads, drinking in the view until we became intoxicated and still we wanted more. Always, which ever way you looked, you thought "who get's to see this?, who does this?"  Well, we did and we still feel amazed.