Ed Alcock for The New York Times  Mountain water fills canals in Annecy. More Photos »  JUST in front of me, a skier jumped from a helicopter and sped down the treacherous slope, zigzagging wildly as he dodged boulders and soared over moguls. Then, suddenly, catastrophe struck. Unable to see an approaching cliff, he shot off its edge into a free fall.  This is why I don’t ski, I thought to myself as I sipped my mojito and turned away from the extreme-sports videos on the overhead television. The cozy confines of the wood-beamed L’Équipe bar in Courchevel, a ski village high in the French Alps, was a far more agreeable spot to appreciate the Alpine lifestyle than in the bone-shattering temperatures on the icy slopes outside.  Around the timbered town, twilight was settling and the bars were coming alive with D.J.-spun music, live bands, crackling fires and fondue. Parka-clad strollers admired works by Miró and Modigliani in galleries before heading off to dine at some of the nation’s finest restaurants. Who needed skis and poles when confronted with the best après-ski scene in France?  For many, the French Alps are so fully associated with winter sports that it’s hard to imagine visiting them without buying a lift ticket. Chamonix and Mont Blanc are legends. Grenoble hosted the Winter Olympics in 1968, and Albertville followed suit in 1992. Annecy is a finalist for the spot in 2018. And when the first winter snowfall arrives, a blizzard of ski-mania blankets the region as enthusiasts pull their gear out of cellars and rent half-timbered chalets.  But the Alps also hold myriad allures for those who don’t feel compelled to careen down frozen sheets of ice and snow in a padded outfit. These same cities and villages hide timeworn streets, colorful literary history, world-class art collections, sublime eating experiences and some of the most decadent night life in Europe. And the snowy season is the perfect time to indulge in them. From the Venetian Carnival in Annecy (held from March 18 to 20 this year) to the glittery international party season in Courchevel, winter brings out the region’s natural beauty and beguiling personality. Better still, thanks to efficient train and bus systems, slaloming between destinations — and through some breathtaking Alpine landscapes — doesn’t risk any broken limbs.  After a nearly four-hour train journey from Paris, I stepped into the streets of Annecy, which seemed to have sprung from a medieval storybook. Narrow passageways spread out in all directions, lined by stony churches and town houses, some gray and Gothic, some painted in sherbet hues. Canals and waterways, rushing with cold mountain water, cut through the town, which is sometimes called “the Venice of the Alps.” From a hilltop in the center, a crenellated fortress known as the Château-Musée lorded over the landscape, backed by snow-covered summits.  On this Tuesday morning in January, a scene worthy of a Gallic Norman Rockwell was playing out: swans floated in the canals, old women with shopping caddies and bundled-up throngs crossed small bridges, wishing one another “bonjour” with steamy breath before heading to bakeries smelling of warm baguettes. A postman pedaled a yellow bicycle over the cobblestones and past the town’s most famous street, Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau.  Though born in Geneva, the autobiographer and philosopher grew up in Annecy, where he found abundant material — romantic, sexual, scandalous — for his celebrated “Confessions.” In 1728 the 16-year-old Rousseau arrived on the slender street that bears his name and became the ward of one Madame de Warens, an aristocrat 12 years his senior.  “I had imagined a sour-faced pious old lady,” he wrote in his autobiography. But “I saw a gracefully molded face, beautiful blue eyes filled with sweetness, a shining skin, the shape of an enchanting figure.”  He called her “maman.” She found him small jobs in Annecy, encouraged his musical education — and then became his lover when he was just out of his teens. The affair lasted several years until Rousseau, jealous that she had a fling with another man, took off for Paris and began a writing career that included an erotically charged best-selling novel, a pastoral opera and “The Social Contract,” his treatise on individualism and the relationship between citizens and governments. De Warens eventually fell into poverty and died broke.  SETH SHERWOOD, who is based in Paris, is a frequent contributor to the Travel section.
You donât need a lift ticket to soak up the food, history, night life and fabulousness of the French Alps during ski season. A nonskierâs guide to Grenoble, Courchevel and Annecy.