One of Carolyn's socks had gotten damp while walking in the rain in the Loire Valley
and she was beginning to develop a blister. Limping around Europe is no fun, so early
this morning I went in search of gauze and medical tape to prevent the problem from
getting worse. European department stores are challenging because, at least to our
American sensibilties, they are organized in what seems to be an odd manner. I tried
the nearby Monoprix without success, although I did get some breakfast pastries, a few
rolls of print film for Carolyn's camera, and two teenage-level French novels that I
could use to maintain my French reading skills after we returned to the US.
Following a quick breakfast, we walked to a pharmacy that we noticed in the canal
district the previous evening. No English was spoken by the pharmacists, and my French
was not detailed enough to describe what we were looking for. The word "gauze" does exist
in French, but it corresponds to what we would call a band-aid. We finally got some very
large band-aids, which I later dissected with a pair of sissors and extracted the gauze-like
padding. For now, it would do.
We wandered around the canal district ("Little Venice") of the old town for about an hour.
The previous evening, the sun always seemed to be in a poor position to best accentuate the
subdued pastel colors of the half-timbered houses. This observation inspired me to propose
the "Alsatian Law of Photography"— the sun always shines on the least colorful house.
Riquewihr
Our goal for this day was to visit a few of the smaller villages along the Alsace Wine Road.
First on our agenda was Riquewihr, a town we were prevented from visiting the previous year
by the pouring rain. On this much more pleasant day, we arrived in Riquewihr just before
1:00 pm. A woman that was about to leave an adjacent parking spot asked us where we were
from. The conversation began in French and ended in English as she offered us her parking
voucher, which was valid for several more hours. So we got free parking in Riquewihr and
the French got to, once again, contradict the myth that they are rude and anti-American.
We ventured into this very touristy, but authentically ancient and well-preserved, town
through a gate in the fortified wall located near the Rue des Trois-Église
(Street of the Three Churches). Despite the name, I could only identify two churches.
Riquewihr is widely recognized as one of the most picturesque towns in France. I literally
shot an entire roll of Velvia before reaching the end of the first street.
Riquewihr also has a reputation as one of the most touristy places in Alsace. This town of
one thousand inhabitants receives more than one million visitors each year. It is crowded
for a reason. The place is beautiful and well worth the crowds and hassles. Riquewihr is
classic Alsace in a tidy package. Sort of a small version of Colmar. The pastel-colored
half-timbered houses characteristic of this region line cobblestone lanes that often end
or converge at flower-covered wells and fountains.
The Rue des Trois-Église leads directly to the Rue General de Gaulle,
the "Main Street" of Riquewihr, and another picture-perfect Alsatian cobblestone street.
For a nation with a well-deserved historic reputation for creativity, the French are
remarkably uncreative when it comes to place names. Virtually every main street in France
is named either Rue du General de Gaulle or Rue du Republique, nearly every
cathedral is called Notre-Dame, and it often seems that every square is named after
Joan of Arc.
Riquewihr originated in the 11th century and passed from empire to empire
as marriages occurred and lineages died out. The town is a living open-air museum
with an architectural wealth that spans more than five centuries. Little has changed
since the 16th century and Riquewihr was virtually untouched by both World
Wars.
Riquewihr has an abundance of cafes with outdoor seating and hotels with interior
courtyards. Within the fortified ramparts of the town are stone towers decorated with
half-timbered balconies and steep gabled roofs. The businesses of Riquewihr have
wrought-iron signs and every building has crooked shutters and geranium-filled flower
boxes.
Many of the buildings are historic landmarks with plaques that explain (in French)
the significance of the structure. Several hotels and restaurants originated as
mansions built by wealthy wine merchants.
Long before the advent of the relatively modern phenomenon of tourism, Riquewihr was
famous for wine. Specifically, this region of Alsace was known for the production of
Riesling white wine. Although these belong to the same family of wines that originate
in the Rhine and Mosel Valleys, the Alsatian Rieslings are not as notoriously sweet
as the German varieties. Alsace is the cultural synthesis of French and German
influences, so it should come as no surprise that the grape that constitutes the
foundation of the regional wine industry should be of German origin.
Riesling is a variety of grape. Unlike most French wines, but similar to German
wines, Alsatian wines are named after the grape rather than the geographic locality.
High-quality Riesling grapes are late-ripening and low yield. This inflates the price
of the best of these wines.
The very location of Riquewihr was dictated by wine. The fertile soil of the Rhine
Valley is most productive along the south-facing slopes that are prominent in this
area where the Vosges Mountains merge with the Alsatian plain.
Before leaving, I wanted a few photographs of Riquewihr nestled in the surrounding
vineyards. North of town, the ground rose steeply, which would provide the downward
perspective that I needed. So I hiked through the rows of vines until I came to a
small dirt road that offered the type of view I was seeking. Although very few grapes
remained on the vines, but the huge autumn leaves were brilliant yellow.
Kaysersberg
A short distance south of Riquewihr, and also along the Alsatian Wine Road, is the
ancient town of Kaysersberg. Initially inhabited during the Roman occupation,
Kaysersberg is best known as the birthplace of Nobel Peace Prize recipient Albert
Schweitzer. It is not, however, to pay homage to the famous humanitarian that
tourists flock to this small town. As with most other Alsatian villages, it is the
fairy tale-like setting with half-timbered houses and flower boxes that keep
them coming.
Surrounded by vineyards, Kaysersberg is built along the banks of the Weiss River. The
name of the town is a Germanic translation of the original Roman name, which meant
Caesar's Mountain, a reference to the castle-crowned hill just outside of the town.
The castle was destroyed during the Thirty Years War, and has been in a ruined state
for many centuries.
The vineyards around Kaysersberg had not been fully harvested and, as we drove into
the town, the picking crews were swarming about the slopes. We quickly found a large,
and surprisingly empty, parking lot on the eastern end of the town.
Kaysersberg has a highly photogenic main street, which, like so many other French
main streets, is named Rue General de Gaulle. Crooked pastel-colored
half-timbered houses are packed tightly against one another and an abrupt turn in the
street is anchored by the Romanesque Église Ste-Croix. Construction of the
church was initiated in the 12th century and required three hundred years
to complete. The very solid tower of the western portal rises dramatically above the
rooftops. The church is a great "anchor" for pictures of the main street.
Near a large bend in the Rue General de Gaulle is a fortified bridge. A
plaque indicates that the Pont Fortifié was built in 1514. The bridge has
a small guard house and defensive columns to sheild archers. Some of the most
attractive houses in Kaysersberg are located near the bridge, which offers beautiful
river views are in both directions.
On the opposite bank of the Weiss is the Schweitzer house, which is located next door
to the Musée Albert-Schweitzer. The famous doctor was born here in 1875.
He received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1952 and died in Africa in 1965.
Kaysersberg is geographically dominated by a 13th century castle
perched above the town. Left in a state of ruin by the Thirty Years War, what
remains is accessible by a thirty-minute uphill walk. Although we had no doubt
that the castle grounds would offer a rewarding view of the town, it was getting
late and we wanted to spend more time in the town itself.
The mountain river that tumbles through Kaysersberg gives the town a more vibrant
feel than Colmar with its still and quiet canals. Also, Kaysersberg, like Riquewihr,
is tightly enclosed by vineyards, which gives the town an isolated feel.
Back to Colmar
After returning to Colmar, we found a laundromat along Rue Ruest. Like most laundromats,
French or American, the place was dirty and poorly maintained. There were even a few empty
wine bottles lying on the floor. The only other patrons were a young couple with a small girl.
About the time we were loading our clothes into the dryer, several young drunk men staggered
in and said something to the young woman. I couldn't pick up anything he said because his
words were so slurred. She ignored him and her husband said something to him at which point
he walked back to the door and stood there for awhile with his buddies. These guys were so
drunk that they didn't seem to be much of a threat— they could barely walk, after all.
Plus empty wine bottles, once broken, are as good as sharp knives. Eventually, however, they
left. The most peculiar thing about the incident was that it wasn't that late— only about
7:30 pm.
The more we thought about the Indian restaurant from the previous night, the more we felt we
had to go back. It was very expensive, about 50% more than a typical Indian restaurant in the
US, but the food was exceptional. We eat Indian food quite a bit, so this is a fairly informed
opinion. The same chatty staff was there and they remembered us. I was curious about the age
and history of the building that housed the restaurant (the owners of New Delhi also lived
upstairs), but they were unfamiliar. Based on the construction, which included cracked, massive,
unevenly-cut beams spanning the ceiling, it seemed likely that the building was at least a few
centuries old. I couldn't imagine occupying a building like that and being so disinterested in
its history.
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