At the height: How to go to the Alps as a volunteer and have a rest with benefits
IN THE RUBRIC ABOUT TRAVEL Our heroines talk about their trips around the world. In this issue, Natalia Kudryavtseva, a student at the Moscow State University Journalism Faculty, talks about how to get to the Alps on the very border of France and Italy, restore ancient buildings, live in the company of strangers, feed 30 people for 100 euros and ride over the canyon on a self-insurance.
How it all began
I really like to plan my travels - you get pleasure from it no less than from a direct trip. I am lucky that I am still a student: the summer holidays for me are two months of freedom that most adults cannot afford, with a maximum of four weeks of vacation a year. Obviously, I want to spend this couple of hot months as rich as possible.
My initial plan was this: to drop in for a short while at sea to my parents traveling by car from Russia to France, and then move in the direction of Italy. However, then the trip had to be corrected, because my friend told me about a much more tempting option: instead of her parents and Labrador Veny, restoration work in France was among the incredible beauties of the Alps. It costs nothing at all, but the impressions are unforgettable.
The French agency, with the help of which I traveled, is engaged in the restoration of the cultural heritage of France by volunteers. Programs are held in almost all regions of the country at different times of the year. I somehow very quickly agreed to this adventure, and we found the perfect place just on the border of France and Italy, in the Alps, near the small town of Modana.
Fort Victor Emmanuel
Almost on the border with Italy in the mountains are five forts, built at the beginning of the XIX century and named after members of the royal family of Savoy. The whole ensemble of fortresses is called Esseillon. Each year, a detachment of volunteers repairs Fort-Victor-Emmanuel during July and August, and the fortress of Maria-Theresa is already in good condition thanks to the volunteer restoration and the Association of Forts Esseillon.
Getting to the fort is difficult, but interesting. We almost missed the train from Cannes: it turns out that in order to get the tickets purchased on the website of the French railways, you must have the card with which they were paid for. It all turned out ten minutes before the train departed, we did not have time to cancel the tickets and return the money, so we had to buy new ones. So we got to Lyon, made a transfer there and, already rather tired, headed for Modane. At the station, we were met by a nice French woman in an old car, like a gazelle, and confidently drove along a narrow sandy serpentine road to the fort. Exhausted by the road, we immediately forgot about our misadventures, being among the incredible beauties - all kinds of tiredness and apathy immediately disappeared like a hand.
Comfort not guaranteed
Right at the foot of the mountains is an old stone house, in which about 30 people from different countries live: with us in the team were Italians, Russians, Afghans, Moroccans, Spaniards and many French, so there will be no problems with the practice of a foreign language. For students of architectural universities in France, such programs, by the way, are mandatory summer practice.
In some places in the house there are no windows, somewhere the floor falls down a bit, and instead of beds in many rooms there are just mattresses. But when you see mountains around you, blue skies and pleasant faces, the question of comfort rises to the second, or rather, even the tenth place. In addition, before the trip, we were strongly advised to take along a sleeping bag and warm clothes. At night, the house blows so much that in the middle of July I slept in woolen socks, a hat and a scarf, rolled up to my nose - well, in a bag, of course. With a grin, we recalled the "hot" summer months of our plans at this moment.
Every morning, Thierry, the head of this event, travels to the city for a fresh newspaper and baguette package for breakfast. At around 9 am, our second curator - a real cosmopolitan, who was born in France, lived in England and has Israeli citizenship - Mike wakes everyone up for breakfast. He has traveled to Russia, Mongolia and the whole of Latin America in a couple of years and now, if I'm not mistaken, is somewhere in Mexico. Mike is the perfect example for those who still doubt their abilities and do not dare to make such an adventure.
Who does not work shall not eat
On the street right in front of the house there is a long wooden table, at which everyone eats breakfast, lunch and dinner. We usually have breakfast all together, then we recover in half an hour and go to the construction site. Here the principle of division of labor operates: someone kneads the clay, someone carries it, and someone knocks out old stones and dried clay between them with a hammer, and then puts new ones. Everything is not very difficult and not too tiring, but quite fun and lively - not at all as scary as it might seem in the description. Often, French tourists with children pass by, show them some pebbles in the wall and say: "I put this stone here ten years ago!" And everyone is taking pictures of him, this pebble - such a continuity of generations is obtained.
After work, lunch begins. At dinner, the day before, it is usually decided by general vote who will équipe de cuisine (the team that is engaged in cooking) the next day. These 3-4 people per day are exempt from work at a construction site, instead they come up with a menu for lunch and dinner and go to the grocery store. The most interesting thing is real competition - everyone cooks three consecutive dishes for lunch and dinner: appetizer, hot, dessert - and nothing else! The whole camp then assesses how tasty it was - you need to show outstanding gastronomic talents in order to feed well 30 people for only 100 euros. It is highly undesirable to spend more, because for staying in the camp, each person pays 7.5 euros per day for which food is bought. In my memory, in the cooking competition, the Russian guys always won thanks to the main local hit - the potato in their uniform, which we called in French style "pomme de terre en costume de soldat".
In addition to équipe de cuisine there is also équipe de piscine - those lucky ones who will be on duty for the soul and toilet. All this is not so scary, the souls are in a separate small extension, quite decent. There, in the best traditions of the camps, everyone sings songs, soaping.
Do not look down
The thrill was also quite enough: in the depths of the mountains there is a park with suspended paths between trees and Acrobranche rocks. There, they first learn to move on a self-insurance from tree to tree, and then allow to fly the distance between two huge rocks, swinging on a steel cable over a mountain river and spruces: if you look down, it captures the spirit monstrously. In the camp itself, too, lies a few self-insurers, which you can take and go to climb along the laid routes of via ferrata. There are more than five of them, you can start with a child, and finish the most terrible and long route under the waterfall. It’s not even something that captures - it just knocks out the spirit: it’s very scary to hang on the rock when the wind blows you, and the song “Jump down, jump down, don't be afraid” comes to mind. Honestly, I took only two routes, I didn’t have enough courage for the rest.
What else to do: marshmallows on the fire and tincture "Genégy"
The most interesting thing always happens after lunch, when there are several free hours. At this time, everyone is walking, exploring the neighborhood or just lying on the grass at the foot of the mountains. Once we went hiking, climbed to a height of more than two thousand meters, reached the snow (and all were dressed in shorts and felt great) and had a picnic "a la francaise" with pear cider, baguette and cheese at a mountain lake. One night before bed, we sat around the fire and roasted marshmallows or went to the "night investigations" at the fort, sometimes we played board games like Alias and drank wine and beer. On calm days, we walked to the small ski town of Ossua, and we were very lucky to be there on July 14, Bastille Day, which is celebrated in France as widely as in our country - on May 9. Wine and local tincture of Zhenepi flowed like a river, the musicians played, and everyone else danced French folk dances. I am not a fan of salutes, but in the mountains he looked incredibly beautiful and even fabulous.
It is sad to leave there, as from a summer camp as a child — I did not feel such harmony with myself and nature, probably nowhere else. The days are incredibly rich, and the meaning of each is so clear and simple that it becomes the center of all existence. After such pacification, it’s time to go further, to noisy cities, to which I really don’t want to return; on the way home, I kept thinking about how right Vladimir Vysotsky was: "Only mountains can be better than mountains that I have not been to before."
