Strasbourg is 100km north of where I usually lay my head and Apolline and I are making good time on getting there, mostly because she drives like a Roman. The day is already about as gorgeous as you’d want it to be. We get to Strasbourg and if Apo hadn’t kept telling me she was lost I’d have never known. I just thought she was driving around so I could see the city. I guess the city has changed a lot since she lived here a decade ago. Everything changes I guess, well, except my home town. As we get more into the city center the town really starts to pop. The river, the buildings, the cafés, and of course what every French city has, a gargantuan cathedral. We circle about looking for a parking spot for what feels like forever since I am absolutely starving and we finally decide to use a garage, which apparently no one uses as they prefer to park on the sidewalks.
We immediately find a café and I order a “moyenne” biere, which means average size, and it’s huge. I might just be too used to the little nursing bottles they normally come in. We have sirloin with French fries and really really good bread and when I see the check I realize that the beer was 8 Euros. Apolline thinks it’s funny that the same beer in America might be $4 (3 Euros). Yep, you can either get twice as drunk or just as drunk for half the price in America. We at least still have that going for us!
We walk across the square after lunch and pay nearly 10 Euros to climb to the top of the cathedral. 10 Euros should get us carried up but the hike was good if not entirely dizzying since the stairs are totally wound as tight as, well you get the idea. The view is amazing though and you can actually see the time lines of the city from up there.
Sunday really is not a day to visit anywhere in France. Almost all of the stores and shops are closed which means nothing to me since I’m not really into trinket or clothes shopping. We head over to Parliament and the UE and walk about and crack jokes and I have an overwhelming urge to do something stupid since there is a closed circuit camera ever four inches but I don’t and I’m proud of myself that for the second time in two days, I didn’t make an ass out of myself. When we get back to her car she turns the key and…nothing. She had left the lights on and drained the battery. I ask her if she’s ever popped a clutch before and that it won’t be a big deal. She says no and wants to call someone. I put her back in the car, push the car back, and then give her some instructions. I am sure she has it as I begin to push her on the long, flat, parking lot. Man, I would have killed for a hill. I gave her the signal to pop the clutch as I let go and all she does is coast and coast and coast. I realize she never popped the clutch but was really trying to turn the key. OK, there is a language barrier of sorts. She wants to push because she’s really nervous but there is no way she’ll be able to do it so I do my best cheerleader go team speech and just when I get ready to push a mom and her son jump off their bikes and help as well. Well thank you very much, strangers. We get her up to speed and I just have that feeling that she’s going to coast again so I start to bark, “Pop it! Pop it!” I see her shoulders squeeze in and touch her chin and low and behold she pops it. A thick cloud of black smoke brings me a smile as she takes off.
I think she is really surprised that I know how to do anything but write. I have no idea how this stereotype has manifested itself into fact with most people. “Oh, you write?” Then they give you that look like you’ve never changed a tire, ripped out a toilet, or stood in a foot of muck while you cut down half a vineyard. Yes folks, before I decided to try and write for a living I had your typical boy/man’s life of repairing my own car (when you could before all this computer shit), gutting my duplex, digging, fighting, and a whole lot of bleeding. Sorry for the gripe but for the last four years I’ve just gotten a shit ton of that crap.
She is so jazzed by the whole popping of the clutch that she drives as if in the French Connection all the way back from Strasbourg utilizing the winding wine route through tons of quaint villages and towns and mountain peaks. It was so much fun I had to hang my video camera out the window. We end up in Colmar, a medium sized town just 15km away from home for some dinner and another cocktail. I ate two pizzas. One was an Alsacien special with a soft cheese, onions, and bacon on a feathery wafer style crust. Then of course I had a pizza pizza with whatever I could fit on the little thing. After dinner we walked about the darkened streets that either teamed with life or were deserted. I really like this town and am sure I’ll return before I finally head out on the next adventure.
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