英国《金融时报》中文网专栏作家魏城
2007年11月26日 星期一
一
最近，我乘坐大巴，从英国出发，经法国、比利时、卢森堡、德国、瑞士、奥地利等国，去意大利玩了一周。
尽管有人抱怨大巴旅游是“上车睡觉，停车撒尿，下车拍照，回到家里什么也不知道”，但不知为什么，我却特别喜欢在欧洲境内乘坐大巴旅游。我喜欢在短短的时间内一下子穿越好几个国家，品味一种完全不同于在中国坐车很久仍出不了省境的跨国境体验；我喜欢在别的乘客瞌睡的时候睁大眼睛，欣赏车窗外的景色，认真分辨表面看来极为相似的欧洲各国在地貌、植被、建筑、人文等方面的细微差别……
让我感受最深的差别，是从奥地利进入意大利时看到那条泾渭分明的分界线，恰如多年前我从长江入海口坐船，当轮船缓缓驶入东海时，我所看到的那条清晰的黄蓝分界线，如果你不在现场，你就根本不敢相信：那条分界线居然那么清晰、分明！
奥意边境地处阿尔卑斯山脉，奥地利一端的民宅多为木制结构，但做工精细，装饰华丽，形状各异，粉刷一新，窗外都悬挂着五颜六色的花卉，错落地分布在山脚、山腰、甚至山顶，远远望去，极为好看；意大利一端的山，也同样是阿尔卑斯山，地貌、植被基本相同，但民宅却大为不同：房子多为砖石结构，方方正正，没有装饰，有的房子瓦片灰暗，墙皮剥落，即使那些粉刷过的房子，风蚀水浸的痕迹也依稀可见。
意大利一周游之后，我们又乘大巴从意大利返回奥地利，幸亏车上意大利籍导游的解说，我才知道：确切地说，这条分界线并非位于奥意边境之间，而是位于意大利境内的德语居民和意大利语居民之间。意大利北部也居住着一些讲德语的奥地利裔人，所以，这条分界线其实始于意大利的德语自治区。
后来，听一位乘坐大巴从瑞士进入意大利旅游的朋友说，他也看到过这条分界线，但分界线不在瑞意边境之间，而是位于瑞士境内的德语区和意大利语区之间。
我不知道，这条分界线究竟意味着什么、代表了什么或说明了什么，我不是这方面的专家，所以不敢轻易下什么结论。
二
我也是在这次大巴游的路途上最终读完了《国富国穷》这本书的。
我很早就在FT的图书馆里借出了这本书，但因为工作太忙，没有整块儿时间可供我读书，所以，这本书我断断续续地读了很久，总是读不完，一直到这次大巴旅游，我痛下决心：一定要在路途上把这本书突击读完，哪怕牺牲沿途看风光的乐趣！
谁知读书乐趣还是竞争不过观光欲望。旅途中，我仍然是看景多，读书少。最后读完这本书，还是靠晚上在酒店的挑灯夜战。
顾名思义，《国富国穷》这本书是分析各国之间的贫富差别的，是美国哈佛大学历史学和经济学教授兰德斯（David S. Landes）的晚年力作。虽然没有确切的证据，但我猜想，前一段时间红遍神州大地的中国系列电视片《大国崛起》，其编导人员大概也看过《国富国穷》这本书，因为这本书的某些结论与《大国崛起》的某些观点颇为相似。
《国富国穷》的魅力就在于：它不枯燥，兰德斯特别善于讲故事，在历史事实的描述过程中，再穿插一些用散文笔触总结的经验教训；它像历史一样丰富，像历史一样充满了意料之外的转折。兰德斯更爱称自己是历史学家，而非经济学家。不像经济学家谈“国富国穷”时常爱构筑自己的一套理论体系或理论框架，兰德斯这本书似乎没有什么理论，他只是在谈历史，在讲故事，他从18、19世纪之交著名犹太裔金融家罗斯柴尔德的暴死讲起，一直讲到某些世界性大帝国财富方面的兴衰变化，最后再以列强聚财赛跑路途中迄今为止赢家输家的大盘点而结束。
兰德斯似乎不太在乎什么理论，但他讲的“大国兴衰”故事中又充满了理性的“闪电”、论点的“雷鸣”，作为读者的我，开卷时饶有兴味，掩卷后不免深思。
为什么有的国家富？为什么有的国家穷？为什么有的国家先穷后富？为什么有的国家先富后穷？为什么有的国家一直富强不起来？为什么历史上很少有哪个国家一直保持着首富首强的地位？我想，这些问题可能一直困扰着人类最有智慧的大脑，但即使是这些最伟大的哲人们，也一直未能给我们普通人一个令人信服的答案。
在《国富国穷》一书的扉页上，兰德斯也引用了英国经济学家马尔萨斯1817年写给另一位经济学家李嘉图信中的一句话：“……各国富裕和贫穷的原因——政治经济学中所有探寻的大题目。”
我非哲人，尽管我也对这个大题目有着普通人的兴趣，但我毕竟不是专家。《国富国穷》这本书至少给像我这样的门外汉补了以下几条“意料之外、情理之中”的常识：
（1）并非白人主导的国家都先进、都富裕，某些欧洲国家或者欧裔移民主导的拉美国家不仅远远落后于日本，甚至也比不上“四小龙”等某些东亚经济体；
（2）欧洲各国贫富的原因并非完全取决于是否试验过计划经济；
（3）现在某些相对贫穷的西欧国家，过去曾经在财富积累方面一直领先；
（4）由“首富”地位跌至相对贫穷国家队伍的欧洲国家，包括意大利、西班牙和葡萄牙；
（5）由“首富”地位跌至仍属富裕的第二梯队国家队伍的欧洲国家，包括荷兰和英国……
三
我们这辆大巴上的意大利籍导游名叫Giorgio，据说这是意大利男人最常用的名字之一，相当于英语的“乔治”（George），但意大利语的发音听上去有些像“洲洲”。他大概只有二十多岁，但留了一脸络腮胡子，性格外向，口若悬河，一路上，他滔滔不绝，不断介绍意大利的风土人情、抱怨意大利南部人好吃懒做（他自己是意大利北方人）、开罗马教皇的玩笑、骂意大利政坛的各色政客……
在“洲洲”的言谈举止之中，我感到，他似乎特别迷恋英国的文化，特别欣赏德语民族的勤奋和效率，他经常拿意大利人的懒散、不讲卫生、不遵守秩序等毛病，与英国人、德国人、奥地利人或者瑞士的德语居民相比，然后发出某种恨铁不成钢的叹息……
车上的英国乘客大概出于礼貌，无论是公开讨论，还是私下聊天，都很少说意大利人的坏话，但有一次晚饭用餐时，我听到一些英国乘客在闲谈中，聊起了英国铁路系统与德、奥、瑞士等国德语区铁路系统的对比，我能真切地感到他们口气中对德语民族办事效率的那种毫不掩饰的敬佩。
恰巧也是在意大利境内的旅途上，我读到了《国富国穷》一书中有关欧洲拉丁语国家与日耳曼语国家对比的章节。按照兰德斯的说法，曾经在财富赛跑中一度遥遥领先的意大利、西班牙、葡萄牙等拉丁语国家，之所以后来落后于北边的日耳曼语邻邦，原因很多，但最主要的是文化和宗教因素：天主教历史上对异端邪说的严厉排斥、对异教徒和标新立异的思想家、科学家的残酷迫害，扼杀了这些奉天主教为国教的拉丁语国家的创新精神，而作为新教国家的荷兰、英国、德国，却对异端邪说相对宽容。
此外，兰德斯还多次提及韦伯所说的“新教伦理”在塑造新教国家资本主义精神和企业家素质过程中的独特作用。
在车窗外匆匆掠过的如梦如幻的意大利海滨美景的陪衬下，我断断续续地读到了兰德斯的如下文字：
“意大利曾经一度领先，特别在意大利北部的波河河谷地区和热内亚周围地区。威尼斯和佛罗伦萨，一度是繁荣的工业中心和商业中心，后来却变成了纯粹的旅游胜地……意大利的统一（1870年）几乎没有改变早期劳动力和财富的分界线。北部混合了农业和工业，南部仍然是一片荒芜之地……南部最大的出口产品是移民：移居新世界特别是美国和阿根廷的移民以及二战后迁往意大利北部的移民。即使是意大利北部居民，也把他们的子女送往国外，通常是送到阿尔卑斯山以北的更为富裕的工业区……”
但我不知道，兰德斯对意大利先富后穷原因的分析，与我在德语区和意大利语区所观察到的那条民宅分界线，到底有着什么联系。
四
在意大利玩了一周之后，我们的大巴返回了奥地利。
抵达奥地利时，天色已经完全黑了下来。我们来到阿尔卑斯山区群山环抱的一个不知名的小山村，在山村客栈住了下来。
吃完晚饭，我顺着山村的主要街道信步走去。走到大概算是村中心的地方，我看到一家餐馆，招牌上写着“上海饭店”。我揉了揉眼睛：没错，是“上海饭店”，而且还是中文招牌！
在这个荒山野岭的奥地利山村，居然也有中餐馆！我走进餐馆，长着典型东方人小圆脸和丹凤眼的老板娘正在招呼几个喝得烂醉的白人酒鬼，见了我，她一愣：仿佛我是她开店以来见到的第一位华裔客人。半晌她才缓过劲来，用中文向我问好：“你是中国人吧？等一会儿，我让我先生出来招待你！”
不久，她先生出来了，给我倒了一杯啤酒。我们聊了起来。他们夫妻来自中国温州，十多年前从中国偷渡出来，投奔在奥地利首都维也纳开餐馆的温州亲戚。“我们温州人特别抱团儿，在中国走南闯北合伙做小生意，在国外更是互相帮助。维也纳中餐馆太多，我们夫妻就想着到一个完全没有任何中国人的小地方开餐馆，当时我们没有奥地利身份，银行贷不到款，所以我们开餐馆的钱都是亲戚朋友给凑的。”他告诉我说。
临别时，我掏出几个欧元硬币，却被他一把拦住：“你是我们到这个小山村十年来见到的第一个华人，高兴还来不及呢，怎么能让你掏钱……”
《国富国穷》一书也花了很大的篇幅，谈到曾经在财富竞争“长跑”中领先的中国，为什么后来远远落后于欧美列强。
谈到中国历史上第一次“对外开放”，人们常常会提到英国人的鸦片和枪炮，但曾以研究钟表历史而名闻遐迩的兰德斯，却提到了葡萄牙人的钟表。“机械钟表是打开中国大门的钥匙。”——这是兰德斯谈及中国的名句之一，他讲述的这段西方钟表“中国奇遇记”的故事，形象地说明了中国由盛转衰、由富转穷的深层原因。
当葡萄牙人在16世纪把西方的机械钟表带到中国时，中国的皇帝和大臣都被这种记录时间的精巧的机械装置迷住了，但他们却对钟表背后的西方科技嗤之以鼻。兰德斯指出，即使当时中国在对待西学问题上“最为开放、最为好奇”的清朝皇帝康熙，也认为西方数学的原理都来自中国的《易经》、西方科学的方法最初都根源于中国。“所以，不想放弃西式钟表的中国人，却把它们矮化为玩具或者不具有什么功能的地位象征……”兰德斯如此引申开来：“文化上的傲慢和政治上的专制，使中国成为一个不情愿的改善者和一位糟糕的学生。”
兰德斯后来在接受记者采访时，还从反面寻找了中西差距拉大的原因：“欧洲人从一开始就是杰出的学生，他们从来就毫不犹豫地借鉴和模仿他人，并试图相应地改善自己。他们从中国学到了火药制造术、印刷术和其它一些重大的技术。”
也许因为《国富国穷》一书出版于大约10年前，当时中国经济上崛起之势尚不太清晰，所以，兰德斯未在此书中提及中国人如今对待外界先进事物的态度变化。不过，在那次采访中，兰德斯也谈到了当代中国的变化：“中国人现在清醒地意识到，他们将不得不向西方学习。他们可能会说，‘是的，我们过去也有过向西方学习的想法，我们当时没有把这个想法付诸实施，但是我们现在这么做了。’他们确实有个自尊心的问题，但他们清楚地知道，在20世纪和21世纪的世界中，他们别无选择，只有努力走在前面。”
与某些过分强调“国民性”的学者不同，兰德斯并未把中国近代的落后与华人的“劣根性”联系起来，相反，兰德斯通过对同为华人社会的香港、台湾和新加坡经济起飞的分析，特别赞扬了华人聪明、勤奋、节俭等优良素质：“他们（指华人）拥有使韦伯的新教伦理都相形见绌的工作伦理，而且他们把这种工作伦理一代一代地传了下去。”
兰德斯还讲了一个他亲身经历的故事：
他第一次到访香港时是一个晚上，他从酒店出来，经过一个开设在石阶平台上的照相机小店，他随便向店内看了一眼，店主立即问他要买什么。原本并不想买什么的兰德斯顺口问了一种特殊的照相机镜头，店主脸色沉了下来：原来，他店里已经没有这种镜头的存货了。但他的眼光随后又一亮：“如果你晚一些再来，我就能搞到这种镜头。”兰德斯说：“我现在去吃晚饭，至少要到午夜12点才能回来。”店主回答说：“不用担心，你回来时，我在这里准备好镜头等你。”
午夜12点多，兰德斯返回酒店，突然想起了这件事，但疲困的他试图劝慰自己：“别去那家小店了，纯属浪费时间。”随后，他又感到有些内疚，所以还是去了那家小店：小店仍然开着，店主守着那只特殊的镜头，等着他的到来。
讲完这个故事，兰德斯反问道：有谁能够在美国或欧洲为我找到一个愿意这么做的店主？
（作者电子邮件地址：weicheng_ft@yahoo.co.uk，其新书《所谓中产》最近由南方日报出版社出版。）
《远观中国》
2007年11月1日星期四
Social networking
Face off
Nov 1st 2007 | SAN FRANCISCO
From The Economist print edition
An alliance around Google plans to make social networks more open
COULD Facebook, a three-year-old social network and the hottest internet company of the year, soon be as passé as AOL? AOL, you will recall, was a popular but proprietary online service of the early 1990s. But then Netscape's browser made the web easily and widely available, and today AOL is a lumbering unit of a media conglomerate. Another such “Netscape moment” may just have occurred in online social networks.
On November 1st an alliance including Google, the most popular web-search engine, and several other firms announced a plan to make social networks as open as Netscape's browser made the web. The group released a set of standards, called OpenSocial, that allows software developers to write applications that work with any social network that participates. So far this includes Google's network, Orkut, as well as LinkedIn, Ning, hi5, Friendster, Xing, Plaxo and a few others. Together, these have some 100m users, or twice as many as Facebook has. Oracle and Salesforce.com, two business-software firms, are also supporting the new standards.
This is a stark contrast to the approach taken by Facebook. In May it began allowing outside programmers to write applications that run on Facebook pages. But it requires them to learn a new, proprietary software language to do so, so that such “widgets” run only on Facebook. Thanks to the site's popularity, that has not held developers back. But now they also have the option, with negligible effort, to make their widgets available on many other networks. The biggest developers of Facebook widgets, such as Slide, iLike and RockYou, have already said that they will do so.
Marc Andreessen, the co-founder of Netscape in the 1990s and co-founder of Ning, one of Google's partners, believes that the OpenSocial approach is good for almost everyone. First, it is “very, very good for the web”. Second, it is good for Facebook developers, because they can now distribute their widgets elsewhere as well. Third, it is good for anybody who wants to turn a website into an OpenSocial widget, which is very easy.
Facebook itself, Mr Andreessen admits, would “probably prefer to have that proprietary lock-in”, as AOL once did, so it may not be so happy. But Facebook need not be as slow as AOL was in adjusting to an open world. If openness means that social networking becomes mainstream as fast as the web did in the 1990s, all networks could gain. Meanwhile, Facebook is apparently about to reveal a new initiative in online advertising—a field dominated by Google.
Nov 1st 2007 | SAN FRANCISCO
From The Economist print edition
An alliance around Google plans to make social networks more open
COULD Facebook, a three-year-old social network and the hottest internet company of the year, soon be as passé as AOL? AOL, you will recall, was a popular but proprietary online service of the early 1990s. But then Netscape's browser made the web easily and widely available, and today AOL is a lumbering unit of a media conglomerate. Another such “Netscape moment” may just have occurred in online social networks.
On November 1st an alliance including Google, the most popular web-search engine, and several other firms announced a plan to make social networks as open as Netscape's browser made the web. The group released a set of standards, called OpenSocial, that allows software developers to write applications that work with any social network that participates. So far this includes Google's network, Orkut, as well as LinkedIn, Ning, hi5, Friendster, Xing, Plaxo and a few others. Together, these have some 100m users, or twice as many as Facebook has. Oracle and Salesforce.com, two business-software firms, are also supporting the new standards.
This is a stark contrast to the approach taken by Facebook. In May it began allowing outside programmers to write applications that run on Facebook pages. But it requires them to learn a new, proprietary software language to do so, so that such “widgets” run only on Facebook. Thanks to the site's popularity, that has not held developers back. But now they also have the option, with negligible effort, to make their widgets available on many other networks. The biggest developers of Facebook widgets, such as Slide, iLike and RockYou, have already said that they will do so.
Marc Andreessen, the co-founder of Netscape in the 1990s and co-founder of Ning, one of Google's partners, believes that the OpenSocial approach is good for almost everyone. First, it is “very, very good for the web”. Second, it is good for Facebook developers, because they can now distribute their widgets elsewhere as well. Third, it is good for anybody who wants to turn a website into an OpenSocial widget, which is very easy.
Facebook itself, Mr Andreessen admits, would “probably prefer to have that proprietary lock-in”, as AOL once did, so it may not be so happy. But Facebook need not be as slow as AOL was in adjusting to an open world. If openness means that social networking becomes mainstream as fast as the web did in the 1990s, all networks could gain. Meanwhile, Facebook is apparently about to reveal a new initiative in online advertising—a field dominated by Google.
Vive la différence
Ann Morrison
Friday, November 02, 2007
Thebiggest difference between skiing in Europe and skiing in North America is neither the quality of the snow nor the steepness of the slopes. It's not about the speed of the lifts or the body piercings on the snow-boarders either.
It's lunch. In Europe, skiers not only stop for a midday meal, they take time to enjoy it. That means three courses (not a lonely hamburger), wine (yes, wine), and freshly made espresso (not coffee that has been stewing in a pot for hours). And, hey, why not a brandy to fortify you for the afternoon's exertions?
In New England, where I grew up, you put in as many morning runs as you could before you started to feel faint with hunger – or stopped feeling your toes because of the cold.
Lunch was a quick trip to the lodge at the bottom of the hill, where you'd wait in a long line for your cocoa or cola, and squeeze into a bit of space at a messy wooden table, which you would have to clean off with your napkin. After downing a packed sandwich, cookies and an orange, you'd be back in the lift line in 30 minutes or less. The point was to amortise that pricey ticket by squeezing in as much skiing as possible, whether you enjoyed it or not.
Friends who regularly ski at more exclusive resorts in the American west say that even now things aren't much better. The food options are limited, they claim, because resorts are owned by corporations that tend to sprinkle the same fast-food outlets all over the mountain. For a proper lunch, my sophisticated ski buddies tend to descend into the village – to places such as Sweet Basil's in Vail, for example.
Of course, European mountains have fast-food, self-service restaurants too. And plenty of folks pack their lunches. You'll often see them eating their baguettes at picnic tables strategically placed before vistas of unimaginable beauty.
But what makes a European ski holiday special – and for Americans, surprising – is the mountain restaurants, usually located high up on the slopes, complete with uniformed waiters, gourmet cuisine, extensive wine lists and great people-watching opportunities. Many even require reservations. To make my point, here is a clearly arbitrary analysis of three of the eight separately run restaurants d'altitude in Courchevel, one of France's most sophisticated ski resorts. (Courchevel has at least six other ski-accessible restaurants offering elegant lunches at lower levels on the mountain.)
At 2,000 metres, Cap Horn specialises in sea-level seafood: from sushi to caviar to giant plates of chilled oysters, clams, crab and assorted fruits de mer. Other cold food on offer: an excellent steak tartare (though it took three requests to get the accompanying frites.)
But if you are sitting on the expansive terrace – the only place to be on a sunny day – you might be more interested in something hot such as lasagne or a perfectly cooked sole meunière, or tartiflette, a €28 Savoyard speciality of potatoes, cheese and bacon. (You can pay €8 less for tartiflette at the Le Baratin snack bar, which is appended to the Cap Horn terrace but generally serves simpler food.)
The wine list at Cap Horn is extensive, with 380 different entries, and expensive (a 1999 Romanée-Conti sells for €11,555). The restaurant also features a DJ playing rock music from atop a snow-grooming machine, and encourages dancing in ski-boots. I didn't see anyone actually shaking their booty though. As for the clientele, Cap Horn is supposed to be popular with Russians, who make up about 3 per cent of Courchevel's holidaymakers. I didn't notice any of them either. The large group at one of the prime tables (the ones with the red and gold armchairs), where a sommelier was decanting a jeroboam of red Bordeaux, turned out to be British.
If anything, the scene on the terrace of Chalet de Pierres is even more glam. There are more photographers here than at the other two restaurants combined, shooting whoever looks interested in having a picture taken – like the older French woman sunning herself in just a halter top despite the cold. (The photos are available for sale in the village by nightfall.) While a clown amuses children, and a white-suited quartet slithers among the tables singing to recorded American pop music, the largely non-French diners sample olives, drink kir royales and study their menus.
There's sushi and shellfish here too but the better bets are the regional specialities, especially the cheese fondue. Improbably enough, it's great with the local white, Apremont, a relative bargain at €36. At the coffee end of the meal, the super-efficient waiting staff (often serving 350 on the terrace and hundreds more inside) bring a complementary plate of chocolate discs and a glass of the local Génépi liqueur. (Can you imagine that at Killington?)
The action is inside at the eclectically rustic La Soucoupe. At the huge open fireplace, the chef grills steaks, lamb chops, chicken brochettes, foie gras and duck breasts to absolute perfection. Somehow he also manages to scramble delicious eggs (with truffles, perhaps, or potatoes, ham and cheese) to order. The mains usually come with a bowl of garlic-scented roast potatoes and mange-tout to be shared, family-style. The wines are reasonable, with a crisp Savoyard white for €20 and a silky local pinot noir for €24.
The place is packed, with a higher percentage of French speakers than at the other two restaurants. Skiers happily wait for their tables at the funky bar or around the old upright piano, often over a bottle of champagne. At around 2:15pm, the regulars come in and the music (rock, of course) gets louder (but not so loud as to hinder conversation). And diners keep on coming. At 3pm, we were asked to surrender our prime table by the window, where our party of four – small by Courchevel standards – had enjoyed the food, wine and view for more than an hour and a half. In exchange, we were offered the brown leather couch in front of the fireplace, coffee and an entire bottle of Génépi. (We had only a glass each.) We were so cosy, we almost forgot that we had more skiing to do.
Finally, if all this doesn't make the case that European, especially French, skiing is different, consider this. At one point, we shared a télécabine with three hip, young Frenchmen. We couldn't help but overhear their animated conversation. They talked about the quality of the fresh strawberries at the market, chocolate in many guises, and the best way to make a cake. I wish I had asked them where they were having lunch.
Ann Morrison is a former editor of Time's European edition
Friday, November 02, 2007
Thebiggest difference between skiing in Europe and skiing in North America is neither the quality of the snow nor the steepness of the slopes. It's not about the speed of the lifts or the body piercings on the snow-boarders either.
It's lunch. In Europe, skiers not only stop for a midday meal, they take time to enjoy it. That means three courses (not a lonely hamburger), wine (yes, wine), and freshly made espresso (not coffee that has been stewing in a pot for hours). And, hey, why not a brandy to fortify you for the afternoon's exertions?
In New England, where I grew up, you put in as many morning runs as you could before you started to feel faint with hunger – or stopped feeling your toes because of the cold.
Lunch was a quick trip to the lodge at the bottom of the hill, where you'd wait in a long line for your cocoa or cola, and squeeze into a bit of space at a messy wooden table, which you would have to clean off with your napkin. After downing a packed sandwich, cookies and an orange, you'd be back in the lift line in 30 minutes or less. The point was to amortise that pricey ticket by squeezing in as much skiing as possible, whether you enjoyed it or not.
Friends who regularly ski at more exclusive resorts in the American west say that even now things aren't much better. The food options are limited, they claim, because resorts are owned by corporations that tend to sprinkle the same fast-food outlets all over the mountain. For a proper lunch, my sophisticated ski buddies tend to descend into the village – to places such as Sweet Basil's in Vail, for example.
Of course, European mountains have fast-food, self-service restaurants too. And plenty of folks pack their lunches. You'll often see them eating their baguettes at picnic tables strategically placed before vistas of unimaginable beauty.
But what makes a European ski holiday special – and for Americans, surprising – is the mountain restaurants, usually located high up on the slopes, complete with uniformed waiters, gourmet cuisine, extensive wine lists and great people-watching opportunities. Many even require reservations. To make my point, here is a clearly arbitrary analysis of three of the eight separately run restaurants d'altitude in Courchevel, one of France's most sophisticated ski resorts. (Courchevel has at least six other ski-accessible restaurants offering elegant lunches at lower levels on the mountain.)
At 2,000 metres, Cap Horn specialises in sea-level seafood: from sushi to caviar to giant plates of chilled oysters, clams, crab and assorted fruits de mer. Other cold food on offer: an excellent steak tartare (though it took three requests to get the accompanying frites.)
But if you are sitting on the expansive terrace – the only place to be on a sunny day – you might be more interested in something hot such as lasagne or a perfectly cooked sole meunière, or tartiflette, a €28 Savoyard speciality of potatoes, cheese and bacon. (You can pay €8 less for tartiflette at the Le Baratin snack bar, which is appended to the Cap Horn terrace but generally serves simpler food.)
The wine list at Cap Horn is extensive, with 380 different entries, and expensive (a 1999 Romanée-Conti sells for €11,555). The restaurant also features a DJ playing rock music from atop a snow-grooming machine, and encourages dancing in ski-boots. I didn't see anyone actually shaking their booty though. As for the clientele, Cap Horn is supposed to be popular with Russians, who make up about 3 per cent of Courchevel's holidaymakers. I didn't notice any of them either. The large group at one of the prime tables (the ones with the red and gold armchairs), where a sommelier was decanting a jeroboam of red Bordeaux, turned out to be British.
If anything, the scene on the terrace of Chalet de Pierres is even more glam. There are more photographers here than at the other two restaurants combined, shooting whoever looks interested in having a picture taken – like the older French woman sunning herself in just a halter top despite the cold. (The photos are available for sale in the village by nightfall.) While a clown amuses children, and a white-suited quartet slithers among the tables singing to recorded American pop music, the largely non-French diners sample olives, drink kir royales and study their menus.
There's sushi and shellfish here too but the better bets are the regional specialities, especially the cheese fondue. Improbably enough, it's great with the local white, Apremont, a relative bargain at €36. At the coffee end of the meal, the super-efficient waiting staff (often serving 350 on the terrace and hundreds more inside) bring a complementary plate of chocolate discs and a glass of the local Génépi liqueur. (Can you imagine that at Killington?)
The action is inside at the eclectically rustic La Soucoupe. At the huge open fireplace, the chef grills steaks, lamb chops, chicken brochettes, foie gras and duck breasts to absolute perfection. Somehow he also manages to scramble delicious eggs (with truffles, perhaps, or potatoes, ham and cheese) to order. The mains usually come with a bowl of garlic-scented roast potatoes and mange-tout to be shared, family-style. The wines are reasonable, with a crisp Savoyard white for €20 and a silky local pinot noir for €24.
The place is packed, with a higher percentage of French speakers than at the other two restaurants. Skiers happily wait for their tables at the funky bar or around the old upright piano, often over a bottle of champagne. At around 2:15pm, the regulars come in and the music (rock, of course) gets louder (but not so loud as to hinder conversation). And diners keep on coming. At 3pm, we were asked to surrender our prime table by the window, where our party of four – small by Courchevel standards – had enjoyed the food, wine and view for more than an hour and a half. In exchange, we were offered the brown leather couch in front of the fireplace, coffee and an entire bottle of Génépi. (We had only a glass each.) We were so cosy, we almost forgot that we had more skiing to do.
Finally, if all this doesn't make the case that European, especially French, skiing is different, consider this. At one point, we shared a télécabine with three hip, young Frenchmen. We couldn't help but overhear their animated conversation. They talked about the quality of the fresh strawberries at the market, chocolate in many guises, and the best way to make a cake. I wish I had asked them where they were having lunch.
Ann Morrison is a former editor of Time's European edition
订阅：
博文 (Atom)