Morning fog and coffee contemplations
It's 9:20 am, and I'm sitting at the same café as yesterday, watching the morning fog hover over Lake Annecy. The temperature is a chilly 8°C, but my hands are wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee that's warming both my fingers and my soul.
I woke up early today, partly because my body clock is still adjusting to this travel rhythm and partly because I wanted to experience the old town in the morning mist. There's something magical about Annecy when it's draped in fog – the medieval buildings seem to float, disconnected from the ground, and the canals disappear into nothingness.
I left my guesthouse at 7:30, arriving at the lakefront just as the first joggers were making their way around the perimeter. The mountains that were so visible yesterday have completely vanished, swallowed by thick clouds. It's like the landscape has been simplified, reduced to its essential elements – water, stone, and mist.
!Morning fog over Lake Annecy Lake Annecy disappearing into the morning fog
After walking along the shoreline for about half an hour, I found myself drawn back to the old town's narrow streets. Without the usual crowds, I could hear my footsteps echoing off the ancient walls. I arrived at the Palais de l'Isle just as a municipal worker was sweeping the small bridge facing it. We nodded at each other – a simple acknowledgment between two early risers.
"Bonjour," he said, pausing his work. "Belle journée, non?"
I agreed that yes, despite the fog, it was indeed a beautiful day. We shared a moment appreciating the misty view before continuing on our separate ways.
By 8:45, I was ready for coffee and found my way back to the café I visited yesterday. The owner recognized me immediately.
"Ah, bonjour! Le même qu'hier?" he asked with a smile.
I nodded, touched by this small moment of familiarity. It's remarkable how quickly you can become a "regular" somewhere, even when traveling.
Now, as I sit here writing, I'm watching the weather forecast on my phone. It looks like the fog will burn off by mid-morning, giving way to some sunshine by 11:00. The afternoon should reach a pleasant 17°C – perfect for my plans to take a boat tour of the lake. After cycling around its perimeter two days ago, I'm curious to experience it from the water.
I've been in Annecy for three days now, and I'm starting to feel that familiar rhythm of travel settling in. The initial excitement of discovery gives way to a deeper appreciation, a more nuanced understanding of place. I'm no longer just taking photos of everything; I'm starting to notice patterns, to recognize faces, to develop preferences for certain streets and viewpoints.
Tomorrow I'll be moving on – my train to Lyon leaves at 10:15. I've already checked the schedule three times and plan to arrive at the station by 9:30. It's a habit I can't seem to break, this need to be early for transportation, but it's served me well so far.
I've yet to try a traditional Savoyard dinner, so that's on the agenda for tonight. The guesthouse owner recommended a small restaurant near the cathedral that serves excellent tartiflette – a local specialty with potatoes, reblochon cheese, lardons, and onions. After my cheese purchases at yesterday's market, I've developed a particular appreciation for reblochon.
The fog is starting to thin now, revealing glimpses of the buildings across the lake. According to my weather app, we should see partial sunshine within the hour. The day is unfolding exactly as predicted – there's something satisfying about that predictability in the midst of this spontaneous journey.
Day 42 of 500. As I sip the last of my coffee, I feel a sense of contentment washing over me. Not every day needs to be filled with adventures and discoveries. Sometimes, a foggy morning with good coffee is exactly what the soul needs.
!Old town canal in morning fog The canals of Annecy's old town shrouded in morning mist