earthsedge

Two Sundays ago, I took the ferry across Lake Geneva to Yvoire, France. Yvoire is a medieval village, enclosed by a high wall and built on the hilly shore of Lac Leman (as Lake Geneva is known “on the other side”).

The houses are crumbling stone and mortar, crawling with vines and adorned with more flowers than you could find at your local nursery. There are more shops than actual residents and only a handful of streets to explore, but what it lacks in size, Yvoire compensates with charm.

Every detail of the décor of the town serves to make it one of the most eye-pleasing towns I’ve ever seen: flowering and broad-leafed vines spiral up the ancient walls;

artisan signs hang over every shop entrance;

and little antique embellishments are tucked-away, like the old grinding stone in a courtyard and a rusting bike leaning forlorn against a wine shop window.

But what’s a trip to France without eating a crepe? The highlight of the day for me was using what little French I knew to order crepes for myself and the three other girls I was traveling with: 4 lemon crepes with cream, from a street vendor. We sat down on a bench to try and eat them with our plastic forks (which is very nearly impossible, I have to say) when a man slowed down, smiled at us and said, “Bon Appetite!” By then, most of my unsubstantiated prejudice against the French had melted away and I was planning another trip to France. Hopefully Chris and Aidan will be able to come next time!