I never thought this day would come...

...but it has. Today marks the first day that I have officially had my fill of French cheese.

It took coming to the French Alps (through the Jura, home of the stinky and wonderful Mont D'Or) to get to this point. But the home of fondue, raclette, and tartiflette (which my friend Geraldine wrote about, in English, on her blog) has led to this sorry, sad state.

To counter all the deliciousness of this region, John and I did the only thing we could think of doing when given the chance to go out to eat tonight while Kathy and Alex watched the kids. We headed straight for a Japanese restaurant.

And it was great. I don't think miso soup has ever tasted as good as it did tonight, after spending a few days under the spell of the Savoy region's specialties, which seem to have been created to eat after days of hiking and skiing (and not just meandering around town, walking to an awesome ice cave, or taking a tram -- pictures to follow after we get home tomorrow).

And as I happily plucked pieces of salmon with soy and ginger with my chopsticks (snitching bites of John's sushi from time to time), I felt like things had come full circle. In Japan, given the chance I headed straight for the wonderful French restaurant across the street. Now in France, given the chance (and at last too much cheese), I returned to Japan -- at least for one night.