not the view from our room
(L): The Swiss have been regaling us with lusty stories of fondue parties. Fondue, of both the cheesy and broth variety, figures as a regular treat in the cabins of the Alps. Fortunately, the punishments for losing one’s bread in the pot have been moderated somewhat since the days of Asterix’s visit, and perpetrators are no longer thrown into the lake with weights tied to their feet. Although it is still regarded as a social faux pas of the highest order to display a lack of manual dexterity and accidentally leave ones crouton in the goo. (Although I can’t imagine how anyone who combines melted cheese with cherry liqueur can make judgements about social nicety.)
Having pondered the merits of fondue, and indeed raclette, we decided to patronise a Germanic-style restaurant this evening. All I can say is that there is a good reason that such restaurants are terribly difficult to find :/
(G): Personally, I think the idea of dipping fruit in melted chocolate is culinary genius and I won’t hear a word against it. Besides, Bariloche is supposed to be the chocolate capital of South America and even Richie can rustle up a passable fondue, right…?
Frozen margaritas on the other hand – pure evil. Deadly poisonous, but wickedly delicious alcoholic slush puppies. Thankfully I didn’t have quite as traumatic a reaction to last night’s booze-up as my toilet-bound friend. Nonetheless, I managed 0/1 of the day’s designated chores – namely to look for a replacement camera battery so we can give Laurie her monster machine back before one of us drops it and the world ends.
Now, because of my hangover sloth, we have a least another week of photography ‘tutorials’ to look forward to which I have neither the grace nor the patience to endure.
