Medieval Vibes

I know I blether on and on and on about the cold, but it’s a major contributing factor into why I leave Canada in the winter. Sure, travel and exploring new places is exciting… but escaping the cold is even cooler… *no pun intended.

It feels strange to be back in brisk weather conditions since I’ve barely experienced it over the past few years. On top of that, my skin gets so dry and itchy. It’s unbearable. I swear I’ll scratch myself raw if I’m not careful.  Honestly, I’d take Groundhog Day in a heat wave over glacial temperatures any day.

Well… maybe.

I’m sure I’d change my mind in any extreme conditions.

Colmar was on the colder side… yes… and what does one do more of when it’s cold?

Eat.

It was definitely the perfect place to indulge in French foods… and we bought a lot of it to nibble on while unwinding at our accommodation.

Each evening, we’d put together a spread of various cheeses, dips, vegetables, and fresh baguette… paired (obviously) with a glass of wine (or two… or three)…  as we watched a show or lazed around and chatted. Sometimes… we may have overindulged in the wine… but when you’re in Alsace, that’s to be expected, right?

Right.

With vineyards all around us, it was hard to resist.

ZC often enjoys a Kir as an apéritif… and I have to admit… it’s quickly becoming a favourite of mine as well. I’ll have to look for different flavours of “Crème de whatever” when I’m home. It’s essentially a splash of sweet, fruity liqueur added to white wine… making for a refreshing end to the day / start to the evening.

Speaking of French foods… I thought I’d be super nice one evening and I popped into a wee shop on my way back to our Airbnb. I figured I’d pick up a couple tasty treats to surprise Anna and ZC. I chose a pink cheese that looked interesting & delicious… and I believe was blended with red wine… and I also picked up what appeared to be a big savoury bread bun that was apparently filled with blueberries (yum) and Munster cheese.

Munster cheese is a cow’s milk cheese that originates from this region. It has a pretty strong, distinct flavour… and smell. More distinct than even blue cheese. I had tried it when we’d deked into that posh restaurant the other day, as it was served as part of the appetizer I had ordered.  It has a smooth texture… but also a very pungent aroma. When I’d tasted it before, I thought it was meh… so why not try it again?

Sure it was overpowering… but… as it’s popular in this area, I felt an obligation to buy it.

And I like cheese.

I conducted my entire conversation in “my” French… which included a lot of finger pointing, shrugs and thumbs up. I was turning into Mr. Bean.

I figured it would be a good buy… and a safe bet… and I would bring it back to the apartment for us all to share. Everything would be jolly.

Cheese + blueberries + savoury bun = magnifique!

It was awful.

God awful.

As I took a bite… Anna asked, “Is it good?”

No.

Not at all.

Putrid.

Definitely an acquired taste.

We ended up throwing that French delight out.

I haven’t been buying much on this Alsace trip… mainly trying to stick to small, flat items that fit easily into my pack.  My bag is stuffed to the brim… and it’s become too heavy. I’m already starting to sort through what’s worth bringing home and what isn’t. I’d planned to mail one more small package back to Canada, but when I got to the post office, the shipping cost was so outrageously high that I immediately scrapped that idea. I unpacked everything from the taped up box and crammed it all back into my pack.

So… I’m pretty much limited to postcards, stickers and the occasional fridge magnet.

That said… I did come across the most beautiful ceramic vase, decorated with lemons. It wasn’t even that expensive, but thinking realistically… how the hell was I supposed to get a ceramic vase home in my already full carry-on?

I still have five flights ahead of me before I touch down in YVR. Paris to Bordeaux, Bordeaux back to Paris, Paris to London, London to Calgary… and finally Calgary to Vancouver.

I nearly bought it. 

I was very close.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it and had every intention of going back to the shop for it. The only problem was, every time I passed the shop… it was shut. 

I returned the next day.  Closed.

The day after? Still closed.

The day after that? Closed again.

It was finally set to open… an hour after we were set to leave Colmar.

So… no lemon decorated ceramic vase for me.

Devastating.

I was just going to put it in my purse.

Oh well… onwards & upwards.

While we were in Riquewihr, we visited a friend of ZC’s son, Matthew, whose family owns a winery… J.L. Buchar… for a wine tasting.  The winery was actually closed that day, but he opened the cellar just for us.  We sampled about eight different Alsace white wines, and for a grand finale… he sabered open a bottle of sparkling… using a real medieval sword.

It was wild.

He told us anyone could do it, but I think it would be in my best interest to that skill unexplored.

The wines were fantastic. ZC stocked up on a few varieties, but I only bought two… a Pinot Gris and a Gewürztraminer. My two favourites. Matthew’s friend was so generous… he gifted me a bottle of the bubbly.

Maybe he figured I’d actually try opening it with a knife…

Speaking of medieval… one of my absolute highlights of the Alsace region was a visit to Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg. I butcher the name each time I try to say it…

This was the castle we were supposed to visit the day we got imprisoned in Colmar.

It wasn’t too far from where we were staying, but reaching it was quite a climb, as it sat perched atop Stophanberch hill, in the Vosges mountain range. We drove so high up that we broke through the low-hanging clouds that had covered the Alsace valley in bleak gray for the past couple of days.

The castle was majestic… truly stunning… and we had the entire place to ourselves. Seriously… we never saw one single other tourist while we were there. Wandering through both the interior and exterior felt like stepping back in time… offering a real glimpse into medieval life and European history.

I fell in love with this castle.

The views from the castle windows were nothing short of dramatic.  We were high above the clouds… with endless bluebird skies stretching over this impressive, brilliant, frost-covered landscape.  It was so picturesque that I must have taken a thousand photos.

A million.

Looking out from one of the tower window openings, I couldn’t help but imagine Rapunzel trapped in this exact tower, letting her hair down.

Outside in the courtyard, it felt like it was snowing… but it was actually frost drifting down from the trees.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  The frost on the ground looked like a thick layer of tiny white feathers, almost (and I am aware this sounds quite creepy) like the aftermath of a massive white bird massacre. 

I couldn’t get enough of the frosty magic all around me.

I really have been working on my French lately and I get pretty chuffed when I can communicate properly… or semi-properly… or even just enough not to look like a complete ignoramus.  I’ll admit, I do get a little anxious leading up to the moment when the words have to come out of my mouth.  Of course, I say very simple things… but…it’s a start.

I also have really started to really hate the shoes I bought in Amman. I still can’t believe I spent over $200 on them.

It’s tearing me up inside.

I just look at them now and I get beyond irritated. I just can’t come to terms with how much I spent on them considering they’re not even good-looking shoes, they don’t fit properly and they’re not entirely comfortable to wear.

Errrr.

I’m going to throw them away when I get home. That’s right… I’m throwing $200+ shoes away so they will no longer be a reminder of my stupidly.

Odd logic, I know.

Anna asked me what was going through my head when I bought them.

I don’t know.

I seriously think that I thought I was Julia Roberts in “Pretty Woman”… and I just kept buying and buying and buying… like there was no limit to my credit.

But unfortunately there is a limit… and I’ve exceeded it. And I’m not Julia Roberts… nor am I a hooker in Beverly Hills with a rich sugar daddy.

At least… not yet.

Not in these stupid shoes, anyway.