It's our last night in Riquewihr. I am filled with all sorts of feelings. When we first arrived, both of us were excited - it WAS vacation after all. Quickly we visited each shop in the village thinking we would buy this and that before our departure. That was July 17- ten days after our arrival in Europe for our VBT bike tour
.
What seems like just minutes brings us much too quickly to today-August 1. But, before I talk of today, our last day here, I want to share our every day...
And so, as each day came and went, we developed a rhythm in our new home. We had routines: coffee on the terrace around 7AM- always Alan before me as I usually slept until 7:30; the boulangerie each morning for a baguette and often a purchased cheese baguette avec buerre to take along for our morning exercise and lunch; hearing the sweet, melodic, "Bonjour," each day from the clerk at the boulangerie, who yesterday allowed me to use the term "tu" in place of "vous" when addressing her(ah, so we are friends!); and of course, a stop at the patisserie for an almond croissant, although sadly this clerk never quite warmed up to us. We secretly nicknamed her Cruella.
Most days we took a long hike in the morning to the next village (4-7 miles generally) or a bike ride through vineyards; this includes saying hello to Sasha, a waiter we made friends with the first day. We pass him coming to work in the morning while we embark on our "marche" thru the vineyard hills. On our return, we pass the lady in the macaroon shop, Au Petit Delice, who no longer offers us a free macaroon (as she does to all tourists) but now waves hello to us like a friend. We stop always at Nougaterie de Riquewihr to buy our glacé- the owner finally knowing exactly what we will ask for- une pot avec une boule de coco or chocolate, s'il vous plait! We know this is incorrect French, but he smiles daily, repeats the correct pronunciation and presents us with our ice cream du jour! We pass the old man in the village walking his dog and talking to himself. He now smiles at us and usually asks us a question in German, we think. He seems happy with our thumbs up response and waves us on.
We know that in our apartment we must step over big wooden beams to leave our bedroom to get to the hallway and again from the kitchen to the living room. We can do this in the dark now; well, at least I can. We know the key to the door must be turned three times and needs to be sideways in order to be removed. We know our apartment with all its little quirks and secrets and we appreciate these features.
We know where to eat cheaply, where to get a Michelin star meal, the name of each village nearby and which Routes des vins we must take to get to them. We do this easily. We have our favorite villages, and we've learned that each village has a Hotel de Ville- which is not really a hotel at all. It is the town hall! And furthermore, each town hall has a free public restroom (WC), which is a very important thing to know. Where there is no WC available, we have learned that there is always a "green door" somewhere in the vineyard.
We like using Euros for currency and kilometers for distance. It is easy and makes sense to us.
We walk through "our" village each afternoon and we guess who is American and who is not as the "tourists" arrive. We chuckle about this. We are usually wrong. There are few Americans here. Period. If there is a rare American, they are usually wearing a baseball cap. That has been our clue.
We know there are pigeons on our Rue des Cordiers-the little street off Rue du General de Gaulle and that there is a Rue du General de Gaulle in every village. We wonder the street's name before WWII. We know that tourists always stop to take pictures of our garden.
We know that the delivery trucks arrive between 7:30-8 in the village and the only shop open before 8 is Le Salon Te- where Cruella works.
We love our impromptu "conversations" with random Frenchman we meet along our travels. They are kind. They like Americans because of our country's alliance with them.
We know where to find an American flag flying proudly here alongside the French flag and we know more about the important role our American soldiers played here in the Alsace during WWII. This moved us more than any history lesson we learned in America about that war.
We loved our new Aussie friends who randomly sat beside us at a festival and became our best friends for an evening while we shared a bottle of wine and laughter. This was good for our soul.
We learned that we can go to a foreign country and survive even with language barriers. A voice has a certain way of letting you know what someone says at times, even if the words make no sense.
We know our church bells in Riquewihr. On Saturday, they ring for 15 minutes straight at 7PM and again at 7AM Sunday. That is a gift. We decided this would be lovely to hear in the states.
Tonight, on our last night here, we took a walk up to "our" vineyard. Sat on a bench overlooking "our" village and listened to Springsteen singing "The Land of Hopes and Dreams." We found "our" apartment/house from where we sat, "our" garden, "our" tree that sticks up high above the homes. It doesn't get much better.
Of course, there were difficulties: a fall on my bike, a rental car with a dead battery, a sock down a drain, clothes that were tight that have grown tighter, wrong turns, achy bones, but therein lies the beauty. Felt like home.
Tonight as we walked hand-in-hand down the hill of the vineyard back into our village, the church bells chimed 8:00. We looked at each other and smiled. No words necessary.
If we had family and a few friends here, we could no doubt stay longer. Much longer. Always family and friends pull us back to our real home where our lives mean the most.
A special thank you to Jean Paul Krebs, and his wife, Martine for providing us with a beautiful and comfortable apartment, The Lucky Dragon: i-love-riquewihr.com
Thank you also to Valerie, the manager, who made sure all the little things here at The Lucky Dragon were just right too. Merci and au revoir for now.
What seems like just minutes brings us much too quickly to today-August 1. But, before I talk of today, our last day here, I want to share our every day...
And so, as each day came and went, we developed a rhythm in our new home. We had routines: coffee on the terrace around 7AM- always Alan before me as I usually slept until 7:30; the boulangerie each morning for a baguette and often a purchased cheese baguette avec buerre to take along for our morning exercise and lunch; hearing the sweet, melodic, "Bonjour," each day from the clerk at the boulangerie, who yesterday allowed me to use the term "tu" in place of "vous" when addressing her(ah, so we are friends!); and of course, a stop at the patisserie for an almond croissant, although sadly this clerk never quite warmed up to us. We secretly nicknamed her Cruella.
Cruella's Patisserie:
Baguette buying:
Ice Cream Shop:
Macaroon Shop:
Boulangerie:
Most days we took a long hike in the morning to the next village (4-7 miles generally) or a bike ride through vineyards; this includes saying hello to Sasha, a waiter we made friends with the first day. We pass him coming to work in the morning while we embark on our "marche" thru the vineyard hills. On our return, we pass the lady in the macaroon shop, Au Petit Delice, who no longer offers us a free macaroon (as she does to all tourists) but now waves hello to us like a friend. We stop always at Nougaterie de Riquewihr to buy our glacé- the owner finally knowing exactly what we will ask for- une pot avec une boule de coco or chocolate, s'il vous plait! We know this is incorrect French, but he smiles daily, repeats the correct pronunciation and presents us with our ice cream du jour! We pass the old man in the village walking his dog and talking to himself. He now smiles at us and usually asks us a question in German, we think. He seems happy with our thumbs up response and waves us on.
We know that in our apartment we must step over big wooden beams to leave our bedroom to get to the hallway and again from the kitchen to the living room. We can do this in the dark now; well, at least I can. We know the key to the door must be turned three times and needs to be sideways in order to be removed. We know our apartment with all its little quirks and secrets and we appreciate these features.
We know where to eat cheaply, where to get a Michelin star meal, the name of each village nearby and which Routes des vins we must take to get to them. We do this easily. We have our favorite villages, and we've learned that each village has a Hotel de Ville- which is not really a hotel at all. It is the town hall! And furthermore, each town hall has a free public restroom (WC), which is a very important thing to know. Where there is no WC available, we have learned that there is always a "green door" somewhere in the vineyard.
Alan finally found the green door:
Could this be the elusive green door?:
We like using Euros for currency and kilometers for distance. It is easy and makes sense to us.
We walk through "our" village each afternoon and we guess who is American and who is not as the "tourists" arrive. We chuckle about this. We are usually wrong. There are few Americans here. Period. If there is a rare American, they are usually wearing a baseball cap. That has been our clue.
Rue du General De Gaulle looking downhill to Hotel de Ville:
Looking up the hill on De Gaulle toward the Dolder Tower:
The top of the village on De Gaulle with Dolder Tower in distance:
We know there are pigeons on our Rue des Cordiers-the little street off Rue du General de Gaulle and that there is a Rue du General de Gaulle in every village. We wonder the street's name before WWII. We know that tourists always stop to take pictures of our garden.
Our photogenic jardin:
We know that the delivery trucks arrive between 7:30-8 in the village and the only shop open before 8 is Le Salon Te- where Cruella works.
We love our impromptu "conversations" with random Frenchman we meet along our travels. They are kind. They like Americans because of our country's alliance with them.
We know where to find an American flag flying proudly here alongside the French flag and we know more about the important role our American soldiers played here in the Alsace during WWII. This moved us more than any history lesson we learned in America about that war.
We loved our new Aussie friends who randomly sat beside us at a festival and became our best friends for an evening while we shared a bottle of wine and laughter. This was good for our soul.
We learned that we can go to a foreign country and survive even with language barriers. A voice has a certain way of letting you know what someone says at times, even if the words make no sense.
We know our church bells in Riquewihr. On Saturday, they ring for 15 minutes straight at 7PM and again at 7AM Sunday. That is a gift. We decided this would be lovely to hear in the states.
Tonight, on our last night here, we took a walk up to "our" vineyard. Sat on a bench overlooking "our" village and listened to Springsteen singing "The Land of Hopes and Dreams." We found "our" apartment/house from where we sat, "our" garden, "our" tree that sticks up high above the homes. It doesn't get much better.
Of course, there were difficulties: a fall on my bike, a rental car with a dead battery, a sock down a drain, clothes that were tight that have grown tighter, wrong turns, achy bones, but therein lies the beauty. Felt like home.
Tonight as we walked hand-in-hand down the hill of the vineyard back into our village, the church bells chimed 8:00. We looked at each other and smiled. No words necessary.
If we had family and a few friends here, we could no doubt stay longer. Much longer. Always family and friends pull us back to our real home where our lives mean the most.
A special thank you to Jean Paul Krebs, and his wife, Martine for providing us with a beautiful and comfortable apartment, The Lucky Dragon: i-love-riquewihr.com
Thank you also to Valerie, the manager, who made sure all the little things here at The Lucky Dragon were just right too. Merci and au revoir for now.
-Chris Wirt
That reflection brought tears to my eyes. How beautiful!
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