Day Eight (December 30)

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My original plan for December 30 was to get up early and go to Colmar if we hadn’t been able to get there the day before. Otherwise, I would have spent the morning in Strasbourg’s Christmas Market and showing Gen, Tyler and Grandma Phoebe the world-renowned mechanical clock inside the Cathedral. After that I had hoped to get on the road by early afternoon and perhaps take a detour by way of Luxembourg on our way to Trier, Germany. However, just a week before we left on our trip, one of my sisters e-mailed me asking if she, my other sister and my cousin could meet us in Strasbourg. They were spending Christmas in Paris but were willing to take the train to Strasbourg for the day. I told them they were nuts but my sister seemed determined. Therefore today we would have to extend our stay in Strasbourg.

As Gail readied herself in the shower I picked up a city map of Strasbourg. I was trying to figure out an alternate parking plan since we had had so much trouble the night before. Although I couldn’t read French I was able to pick out a Park and Ride facility near the airport. Elsewhere on the map I read that parking at the Park and Ride was 3€ for the day. We could buy a family pass for 4.30€ giving us 24 hours of use on the trams and city buses. It sounded like a much better plan than trying to find a place to park downtown during rush hour.

We decided to take the hotel up on their offer of buying breakfast that morning. We hadn’t been able to find any open supermarkets or food marts the night before. When we went to the reception desk to let them know of our change in plan, we threw them into a panic. We should have let them know the night before. I guess we would have except that when we got back at 10:30 that night, nobody was at the desk. The clerk said they probably didn’t have enough to feed us. I was about to say “forget it” when a young guy, who actually smiled, said he would go out to the bakery for more rolls. We told him not to worry about it but he insisted. Although it wasn’t quite up to some of our German Frühstücks it was enough to fill us up. We enjoyed croissants, rolls, jam, fresh butter, yogurt, applesauce and my two favorites, hot chocolate and soft-boiled eggs.

We paid the bill: three rooms at 33€ and 6 breakfasts at 5.50€ each. That still came out to only 22€ per person per night. As much as I really love those quaint, cosy places we stayed in Germany I wouldn’t have minded finding a place like this at this price in Germany for a night or two.

By now we were really getting adept at using the GPS. We programmed our destination by searching for tram stops in Strasbourg. We found the Baggersee Park and Ride in no time at all. It was located in the same parking lot as a strip mall. Instead of paying to park in the Park and Ride lot, we parked in the half full shopping center lot then walked to the nearby tram stop. We bought a Family Pass but never had to display it. The tram was incredibly smooth. We rode in the middle of the street with automobiles riding alongside us. We were in Downtown Strasbourg much quicker than I expected. Stores weren’t even open yet. Cassie was eagerly awaiting this day of the trip. Her painstaking Internet research had informed her that there were two Sephora make-up shops in town. She had put up with all our shenanigans for the past eight days without uttering a word of complaint knowing that this was about to be her day. She was one of the first in the door as soon as the store opened at 10:00. I tried to entertain myself in there but I couldn’t look at the men’s cologne forever. Tyler’s allergies were going berserk due to the fragrances so he and I ducked out. We killed some time checking out the food store next door. Finding nothing of interest we simply waited outside for the womenfolk.

The girls actually got done earlier than I had hoped because we still had two hours to kill before my sisters were supposed to meet us at the Strasbourg tourist office. We walked to the Petit France section of town where the most picturesque buildings lined a narrow canal. None of us were hungry but I spotted a number of interesting looking restaurants in this part of town. We took pictures of the buildings and the Pont Couvert (covered bridge) that is one of the city landmarks. I was a little bummed to see a canal boat less than half filled with tourists cruising down the canal. That would’ve been a great thing to do to kill time and to actually see all the points of interest. I’m filing that one away for next time.

We still had plenty of time so we strolled up a busy shopping street and checked-out more restaurants. We killed 10 minutes exploring an Office Depot. I had hoped to find something unique like maybe a weird sign in French or some stationary to bring home but all the merchandise was the same stuff that you can get here. We eventually strayed into a narrow alley with more of those extraordinary Christmas chandeliers spanning the way. Apparently we had muddled our way into the wealthy locals’ shopping area. We found all manner of upscale bakeries, butchers, delicatessens and other food purveyors. Once again the storefronts were decorated in all their Holiday finery. We took nearly as many pictures of store windows as we did of the historic buildings. They were veritable works of art.

This alley led into the Cathedral Square. We still had time before our scheduled meeting. My tummy was feeling a little upset and the others also needed to visit the loo, so we found a public toilet down underground on the other side of the Cathedral. It was a very popular spot. Tyler had to wait a minute or two just to use a urinal. I needed a stall but both were occupied. I waited almost ten minutes. When I finally emerged from the subterranean facility, I heard the gang laughing. At first I thought I left my fly open or had toilet paper on my shoe, but it turned out that when Tyler was at the urinal some guy had exposed himself. Were any of the guys in this town straight?

We decided to warm our feet in the Tourism Office. We had about 15 minutes before we were supposed to meet my sisters here. Gail bought a little poster inside, but there wasn’t much else to entertain us. We walked around the Christmas Market stalls located right between the front of the Cathedral. More beautiful items for sale but by this point we were getting worried about how we were going to get the stuff we already purchased home without breaking it. Buying more pretty baubles and trinkets didn’t seem like a great idea at this point. We kept our eye on the Tourism Office but at 12:10 there was still no sign of them.

We had made a back-up plan just in case we didn’t meet up at noon. We told them we really wanted to see the astronomical clock in the Cathedral go through its paces at 12:30. We were slightly surprised at having to pay to get into the Cathedral, but we got in early enough to get decent spots to watch the show. Eventually a crowd of about a hundred people assembled in the alcove housing the gigantic clock. I kept an eye out for my sisters but when the little show began at 12:30 they were nowhere to be seen. The demonstration was pretty impressive for a clock made centuries ago. When the clock struck the half hour a mechanical rooster flapped its wings and crowed, bells rang, and a bunch of metal figures high above spun around a depiction of the Devil. Most impressive was the time piece itself which not only indicated the hour but displayed the year, astrological data for the year, phases of the moon, hours of sunrise and sunset and time zones in other parts of the World.

When the demonstration ended we searched in vain for my missing siblings. We decided to walk through the Cathedral just in case they might show up there. I was about ready to suggest we get ready to leave Strasbourg and head onward to Luxembourg when Gail spotted my younger sister, Vanessa. They had just walked into the Cathedral. We toured the Cathedral then took my sisters, Vanessa and Kjristine, as well as my cousin, Kathy, to see the famous clock. It went through an abbreviated show at 1:00 pm, but they got the gust of what it was all about.

I informed my sisters that we really didn’t have all that much time to hang around with them since we needed to get to our place outside Trier before 6:00pm. The nine of us went into the Christmas Market where I introduced my sisters to the wonders of Glühwein. They didn’t seem to like it either. We strolled around the same streets we had explored the night before, stopping to take even more photos of the Christmas decorations and unusual Alsatian architecture. I led the way figuring that at some point somebody would stop to look at something. No one seemed to want to dally at any of the souvenir shops. They just kept following me and we were heading out of the quaint pedestrians only zone. I suggested that maybe we should get a bite to eat. Everyone seemed to want to get out of the cold.

We headed around the corner to the Café Montmartre. I’m not sure why, but the place reminded me of a Subway sandwich franchise. While everyone else ordered things like Cappucino, Grand Café Crème or hot chocolate to warm up, I opted for a beer. I don’t usually like to have a beer during the day, but I had read on my Strasbourg map that Strasbourg is the home to Heineken, Kronenbourg, Kanterbrau, Fischer, Adelshoffen, Meteor and Schutzenberger breweries. These beers are mostly lagers and much lighter than the German Wheat Beers I prefer, but I just had to try one of the local brews. I got a half liter of Kronenbourg.

My sisters and Kathy had eaten at the train station so they preferred to just drink their Cappucinos. Cassie ordered a “Pizza Pouletcham”, or Personal pan pizza with chicken and mushrooms (5.00€). I got the “Sandwich Mixte” or ham and cheese melted inside a hard roll with French fries (3.50€). The only thing Grandma Phoebe ever liked about the city of Paris was the French bread with a hole drilled in it so that a hot dog and melted cheese could be crammed inside. Grandma, Gail, Tyler and Gen each had one of these for a mere 2.50€. We spent almost an hour telling stories about our trips and catching up on family news. At 2:00 I made my apologies and explained that we had to get going.

The nine of us walked back toward our tram stop. Just before we left my sisters at the shopping area, I gave them directions to the Petit France and Pont Couvert. I wasn’t real sure how they were going to be able to entertain themselves for five more hours before the train came, but they were big girls now. Cassie led us back toward the tram stop, but not before taking us back to Sephora where she picked up a few more items. I was talked into buying a brand new Thierry Mugler men’s cologne not available yet in the U.S. Hey, if I’m gonna put that smelly stuff on me, I want to at least smell different than everybody else. The sign at the display describes the smell as “citrusy, clean, grassy”. It smelled like Dial soap to me.

We reboarded the tram and arrived back at Baggersee without incident. My travel mates were already dozing on the tram ride so I knew they’d pass out as soon as we got in the van. Back at the parking lot I was very surprised to see the lot was completely full. I was a little concerned that I might get a ticket or boot for parking there, but no problems. After everyone settled into the vehicle I programmed Helga with the address “Mosel-Einkaufs-Zentrum, Kenn, Germany”. The GPS showed me that the trip would take 2:12 which meant we would be at our destination by 5:45. What GPS didn’t take into account was that we had just a quarter tank of gas.

I was not happy to see that the route we were being sent on was basically the same one we had taken from Wiebelskirchen to Strasbourg. That meant going on that stupid rural 2 lane highway through the hills of the Lorraine Region. The only thing that broke the monotony was the town of Haguenau .

Why is it that the second time you drive a route it seems to go much faster? Even with another snow squall buffeting us and a slow semi in front of us most of the way, it seemed like we got to the German border in no time. Once again we were held up by a big tanker truck. I finally did get around the truck just before the road started to wind through the villages on the German side of the border. I didn’t stop for gas in France because the prices were even higher than Germany’s and I really didn’t want to give the French any more of my money.

As I drove I was thinking that I really didn’t enjoy Strasbourg as much as I expected I would. When we visited last Summer with Gail’s student group, I found the place fascinating and totally charming. I really wanted to come back. But coming back was a letdown. True, the place is much prettier and just as festive in the summer, but this time the people seemed really aloof and rather boring. I like the joviality of the Germans and the Italians. Even the English and Swiss seemed happier than the people in this part of France. I didn’t hate it and I would definitely go back, but it lost most of its allure.

Gail simply disliked it. She admitted that she had confused Colmar and Strasbourg from our Summer trip. The scenic area she recalled had been along Colmar’s little canal. She too found the people of Strasbourg to be colorless. And other than the Cathedral she felt there was nothing all that interesting. Perhaps if we returned one summer to see the storks nesting in Strasbourg’s chimneys or if we visited some of the European Union government buildings or just rode bikes through the streets she’d thinkdifferently. When I talked to Gail about doing a return trip she smiled and said she’d love to do all the same things, “but next time leave out Strasbourg”.

Within ten minutes of entering Germany we were directed on to the A8 toward Trier. A few miles after that we switched to the A1. By now the yellow light had come on warning me that we were low on fuel. I kept hoping to come across a rest stop on the Autobahn, but this seemed to be the only part of Germany that didn’t have any. Just after crossing the huge Primstallbrücke which seemed to be a mile above the valley below, I exited in hopes of finding a nearby gas station. Unlike the U.S. where gas stations grow up along each highway exit, I had to drive a good 5 miles off the highway to find a station. All along the way Helga kept telling me to make a u-turn. When we did find a station I only put in 20€ worth of diesel. The next day I planned to drive to Bastogne via Luxembourg. I had read online that Luxembourg was getting areputation as the cheap gas capital of Europe. Indeed two Summers before the kids and I had driven through Luxembourg and discovered that as soon as you crossed the border from Germany, the street in Wasserbillig was lined with at least 6 gas stations, all with 10 or more pumps. Gas prices then had been 10-15 cents per liter cheaper than Germany. I planned to fill up then and fill up again on the way back.

Back in the road again the snow was getting heavier. The flakes were huge which meant a wet, slippery snow. Not much was sticking to the road as we left the A1 for the A602, then the L145. (I can’t imagine finding this place without the GPS and/or directions from Mappy.com). As we pulled into our destination, we could see the joint was hopping. We had to park a 100 yards from the entrance since the lot was so full.

Finally we had made it to what I considered the most vital stop of this entire trip. Yes, we had made it to Wal-Mart! (http://www.walmartgermany.de/index.php?mapid=104) I had avoided buying many of the foodstuffs and booze items I wanted to bring home because I knew we could get it cheaper at Wal-Mart. I had also convinced Gail to hold off on her purchases of cheap souvenirs for friends and business associates until we could see what Wal-Mart might have.

Unlike our Super Centers back home, this was really two separate stores. On the right side of the entrance was the food store and to the left was all the other merchandise. We went left. I walked every aisle of that stinkin’ store looking for beer steins, hats, walking sticks, souvenir t-shirts or things uniquely German. There was nothing. It was all the same junk they sell in the Wal-Marts in the USA. In the electronics area the only thing unique about the merchandise was the type of electrical plugs. The DVD’s and CD’s were in English. The computer printers and accessories were the same kinds we can get here. In the toy department most of the toys were identical to ours. They did have a huge Lego and Playmobil section. Too bad the kids have outgrown all of that. We were very, very disappointed. Gail did find a few Christmas candles in the clearance section and Grandma found a warmer hat, but that was about it. So much for that stroke of genius.

We fared much better in the food department. We restocked our larder with more chocolate and hazelnut candy bars. We also dropped some Toffifee in the shopping cart. I used to love those caramel cups with hazelnut and chocolate filling. We used to be able to get them in the States but I haven’t seen them in years. We bought more Coke and a big jar of Nutella for 1/3 the price we pay at home. More soap; 4 cans of Fa deodorant spray (I told you I like to smell “different”); Dr. Beckman stain removers for ketchup, oil and mustard; hard candy; Gummi candies; lollipops; and more Bounty bars all went into the shopping cart. Now it sounds pretty lame and boring but this was all stuff we put on our shopping list before we left for Germany. It really doesn’t take much to please us. Besides, we’ve been spending our money on the expensive items like cuckoo clocks, china, cutlery and watches over the past 25 years and we really don’t need any more of that. The simple pleasures are enough for us now.

We checked-out of Wal-Mart at 7:15. I had reserved our accommodations for the next two nights via the Internet back in September. Based on what I saw on the website this was going to be another great experience. We would be staying at Weingut Edmund Schmitz (http://www.wein-gaestehaus-schmitz.de/) , the home of an actual winemaker. We really love the wines of the Mosel Region. Wine connoisseurs downplay the merits of these sweet white wines, but once again we display our ignorance of fine living. I find red wines too dry and almost bitter even though they are supposed to be superior to the whites and are reputed to be beneficial to your health. I guess I just have a sweet tooth.

The snow was coming down even heavier than before but instead of big, heavy flakes, the cold had brought in strong winds that were causing the snow to swirl around us. While we sat in the van programming the GPS to take us to Weingut Schmitz, we were entertained by Michael Schumacher Jr. doing donuts in the parking lot. Seeing how he was sliding all over the place demonstrated that the roads were getting very icy.

Fortunately the route to the Weingut was mostly on the Autobahn. Our van which was supposedly not equipped with snow tires performed magnificently. I was able to maintain a speed of 70 kilometers an hour ( about 40mph) while all around me the other drivers struggled. We only drove about 15 minutes before reaching our exit. Helga directed us off the Autobahn, but halfway down the ramp the GPS system reported that we were off the route. When we reached the stop sign at the end of the ramp we had no idea which way to go. When we saw a road sign for Detzem we followed that and as soon as we turned on to this road the GPS located us and continued issuing directions. In the dark and in the driving snow it was alittle tough to determine exactly where the road was. At one point I simply drove parallel to the guard rail on our right. Since we were going steadily downhill I imagined that on the other side of that guard rail was a steep precipice. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I concentrated on keeping us away from the guard rail and going down the hill safely. (When we went drove this same route in the daylight we saw that it was only a 10-15 foot drop.)

Eventually we came to a bridge taking us across the Mosel River. Helga directed us through a tiny village and past vineyard after vineyard. Suddenly she told us we had reached our destination. It looked like we were in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. I would have driven right past the place in this snowstorm if Helga hadn’t informed me. In clearer conditions I would’ve seen the big brown sign in front of the place.

No sooner did we park and start to get out of the VW than Frau Schmitz came out to meet us. I had gotten so used to speaking with Germans that spoke better English than me that I started talking to her English. It turned out that she spoke no English at all. I somehow made her aware of who we were and pretended I was understanding all the information she was telling us. I interpreted for the group guessing at what she was saying. She led us up a beautiful stone staircase past Hummel figures and winemaking antiques to the first floor. She opened the door to a huge room with a dining table for 6 people in the middle. Behind it was a full kitchen with stove, sink and refrigerator. There were two sofas, a rather large TV with satellite hook-up, and French doors leading to a balcony. Then Frau Schmitz opened another door in the room which led to the bedroom. This room alone was as big as any of our other accommodations thus far on the trip. There were two single beds and a smaller child’s bed. The bathroom was equipped with a nice big shower and wall to wall tile.

Up until this point I had always been a gentleman and deferred to the others when it came to room selection but this time I commandeered the room immediately. Somehow Cassie wheedled her way into the process and claimed she was staying there too. Gail didn’t put up much of a fight. She was probably getting sick of my snoring and needed a couple good nights of sleep. It also would give her more time with her mother. The other rooms were similar to the bedroom section of my room. Everything was immaculate and looked very cosy and inviting. All the beds had fluffy down comforters and big pillows. We had plenty of room to bring in all our suitcases along with our purchases so that we could repack.

We nodded our appreciation to Frau Schmitz. I think she could see from our smiles that we were quite pleased. I asked her if she knew of anywhere nearby where we could eat. She mentioned the “Bürgerhaus”, a restaurant two doors down. We had passed it on the way in but it looked unremarkable. I then asked her if the food was any good. She gave me a weird little smile and said something that I interpreted as “We are part owners of the restaurant”. Of course the food is good she said. Since we assumed we were in the middle of a blizzard I decided that we were not going to venture out in our “unsafe” van. We walked over to the Bürgerhaus. I walked in first. As soon as I stepped in, every face in the place turned toward me. After a good 5 seconds they all went back to what they were doing. I felt like Clint Eastwood walking into a bar in one of his Westerns. Apparently this was strictly a hang-out for the locals.

Inside the décor reminded me of the bar in a volunteer fire company or the American Legion. No subdued lighting in this place. Bright lights shone down on a pool table in the center of the room. Three or four guys with their ladies stood around waiting their turn at the game. A bar that sat perhaps seven or eight people took up most of the right side of the room. Next to the entrance were three tables full of the locals drinking and smoking. In the far corner the biggest table, and the only one that could accommodate the six of us, waited for us. I suspect that this is normally the Stammtisch, or table reserved for the regulars, but we made ourselves comfortable. What do we dumb Americans know?

I really got concerned when our Goth waitress came over to our table. With her unnaturally super-black hair with matching fingernails, ruby red lipstick and nose ring, I was afraid we had stumbled into the clubhouse of the Detzem Chapter of the Hell’s Angels. She said something that I couldn’t understand. She looked angry. I told her in German that we wanted to eat dinner. She got a pained look on her face, then told me that the kitchen was either closed or closing (I always had trouble with the endings for the verbs and adverbs). When I translated that to the others we became kind of dumbstruck and confused. Our waitress must’ve taken pity on us because she excused herself and walked toward the bar. In a few seconds she came back and told me that they only had Schnitzels available. Hello!!! That’s all we had been eating for the past week. After I translated this information all of us got big smiles on our faces and we nodded our heads. Then the angry waitress suddenly became a sweetheart. She finally smiled then took our drink orders.

Once again I ordered a Weissbier; this time a Hacker-Pschorr half liter. Cassie and Gen requested Cokes while Tyler ordered a “Mixery”. I had no idea what he was talking about but Gen and Gail were astounded. Gen said it was a mixture of beer and cola. Tyler said he saw a sign for it on the way in and it sounded “interesting”. This was the kid we nicknamed “Pastor Todd” (after Homer Simpson’s ultra-religious neighbor, Ned Flanders’ son). We always offered the kids a sip of our beers or wine on the rare occasions we would partake thinking that we would remove any air of mystery by sharing with them. While Cassie was more than willing to taste Tyler always acted like we were about to rot in Hell for imbibing. Now my little boy was ordering a beer. College certainly changed the lad.

Since Gail loves the sweet white wines of the Mosel, she had to order a glass. When her mother did the same she asked our waitress if they could get a carafe. Somehow our waitress suddenly understood English. I don’t think she understood what a “carafe” was, but she said that they only serve the wine by glass or a whole bottle. Having lived with this woman for the past twenty some years, I know how she thinks. Gail said “No thanks, I’ll just have a glass”. What she was thinking was “I can afford a glass or a carafe if they had it, but I bet a bottle would be 20€ or more and that’s too expensive”. In retrospect I should’ve insisted she get the bottle. First of all, how often does she get the opportunity to drink a Mosel wine in the very town it’s produced. Furthermore, having been produced here the price for a bottle would be much cheaper than any place else. Later in the trip when I saw how inexpensive even an Auslese was, I could have kicked myself. I didn’t see anything advertised at any of the local wine shops for more than 10€ a bottle and most of the Spätleses were priced less than 5€ a bottle. I’ll file this information away for the next trip.

Tyler, who had never even tasted a mushroom before going on this trip, ordered yet another Jägerschnitzel. Gail chose a Wienerschnitzel. Everyone else followed my lead and picked the Zigeunerschnitzel (Gypsy cutlet - veal covered with a spicy sauce of green and red peppers). It was a little odd ordering dinner without seeing a menu and prices but we were starving. I just wondered what we were going to end up with at this out of the way tiny restaurant at closing time.

It wasn’t five minutes before our waitress returned with 6 delicious salads comprised of two types of lettuce, a little cabbage, tomatoes and onion, some crunchy white veggie and topped with dill dressing. It was fantastic. How could the ingredients taste so fresh in the dead of winter? Even Tyler, the vegetable-hater, enjoyed the salad.

Any concerns I might have had about not getting enough to eat were dispelled with the appearance of our huge heaping plates of food. Our Zigeunerschnitzels were buried under piles of peppers and mushrooms. Gail’s rather naked looking Wienerschnitzel filled the entire plate. I knew that even if my huge portion wasn’t enough to fill me up, Tyler would have plenty of left over mushrooms from his Jägerschnitzel. And best of all, each plate had a huge pile of crispy Pommes Frites. In my opinion, the Germans have mastered the art of French Fry making. Not as thick as the steak fries you get at most American restaurants but slightly bigger than McDonald’s shoestring style potatoes, the Germans cook their fries to the point where the outside is crunchy yet the inside remains soft. Like all German foods, there is no need to add salt.

Helping our waitress bring out the food was the chef, who turned out to be the waitress’s mother. She seemed genuinely concerned whether the food was ok. By now they had had enough at my attempts at being an interpreter. They spoke to us in excellent English. When we told our waitress that we were staying at Weingut Schmitz, she smiled and said that was her Grandmother’s place. Our chef invited us to come back the next night for their New Year’s Eve party. They would be serving a buffet, wine, champagne, dancing and fireworks for 20€ per person. She told us to knock on the door of the restaurant the next morning if we were interested. We seriously considered the idea since we had no plans and were well aware that Germany seemed to shutdown everything on a holiday. We decided against the idea only because we weren’t sure if we would be back from Belgium and Luxembourg in time. I didn’t say anything, but I think it might have been a little weird sitting in the corner all night while all the relatives and bar regulars whooped it up.

We didn’t get a written receipt for dinner so I can’t itemize our bill, but the entire evening totaled less than 70€. As great as every single meal had been so far in Germany and France, this had by far been my favorite. The beer had been a perfect complement to my completely filling meal. I had so much in my portions that I didn’t even bother with the mushrooms Tyler scraped off the top of his Schnitzel.

Everyone in the bar/restaurant turned around and bid us “Auf Wiedersehen” as we walked out. What had seemed like a biker bar full of scary dudes had turned into the cast of “Cheers”. Like Cassie always tells me, don’t judge people (especially teenagers) by their appearance. What a great experience. We walked the twenty yards to the Weingut and using the key Frau Schmitz had given us, we climbed up to my “suite” to watch TV. We saw no sign of the proprietor - complete privacy.

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Photos

Petit France
This was the most charming part of Strasbourg. Even though I enjoyed Strasbourg, looking back on it, the truly interesting part of town was only a couple blocks long. Next time we visit this part of France, we'll visit Colmar instead.

More of Petit France
Just like the Germans, the people in this Germanic section of France are very into Christmas. The entire city had garlands stretched across the road, often with fancy lights and chandeliers.

Tour boat on the Strasbourg canal
We were very surprised to see tour boats still operating in the freezing cold. Had we known it might have been much more comfortable than walking around in the freezing weather and cheaper than hanging around in the warm stores.

French postal vehicle
They must not have catalogues or QVC in France. I wonder how they deliver Christmas parcels?

Shopping in Strasbourg's Rodeo Drive
We ended up in this street populated with very expensive but enticing little shops. Just be looking in the store windows we could see this was not a place for cheapskates like us.

Artistic meat
I have to give the French credit - only they would decorate their Pâte.

More temptations
Wow! Three different types of eclair!

Strasbourg street chandeliers
I don't know if these were only up because of the Holidays, but they seemed to be everywhere in downtown Strasbourg. They seem to be housed inside some sort of removeable case.

Christmas Market stall in front of Strasbourg Cathedral
On the top of this Glühwein stand are two fake storks, the official mascot of the city. You can spot real nests up in the chimneys of some of the homes. The birds were vacationing in Africa when we visited.

Astronomical Clock
The main attraction for us was this complex clock inside the cathedral.

The gang's all here
My sisters, Kathy and the rest of our group got tired of standing around in the cold so we quickly headed for a warm Cafe'.

Trying to decide where to eat
We stood around debating where we would eat for ten minutes before I decided we should just go into the place we were standing in front of.

A family favorite
Gail and her Mom often rave about the French version of the hot dog where a piece of French bread is drilled and then the hot dog is inserted in the hole. They always get them when we visit Paris. They couldn't resist them in Strasbourg either.

I guess we kind of took over the Café Montmartre
No one else wanted to sit anywhere near the loud-mouthed Yanks.

The front of Strasbourg Cathedral
After we left the Cafe' we opted to return to Sephora instead of perusing the souvenir stands in front of the cathedral.