From a very young age, I travelled to the French Alps. I descended my first slopes on the bluffs of Merdassier Peak, caught my first fish in a blue pond, and learnt the first sailing ropes on Annecy's emerald waters. Finally, I shot some of my first photographs there, a summer everlasting sun setting above Annecy's shores.
Now to come to think about it, a trip to the French Alps always begun through a road trip. We rode the train very rarely, and even more seldom did we fly above the mountains to reach the canals of the French Venice.
I've always assimilated the French Alps to a road trip, and I'm sure of it now - it is from those endless hours cruising the A6 highway that caused my love for road trips. Even though at the time, it was more about the destination than the journey (a feeling that shifted when I learned to drive and later found myself exploring the infinite roads crossing the wild swaths of Canada.)
Annecy's old town is known as the French Venice - a roman styled city divided by canals but linked by flowered bridges. However, the water that runs through the old town bears shades of emerald and mountains surround the city.