“Okay, we are all set to go. Bernadette will be here any minute,” Philippe said as he walked into the kitchen, where Kat was going over details with Delphine.
“Nothing to worry about. I’ve got this,” the young woman from the animal refuge said to Kat and Philippe. “And I’ll check your Sainte-Barb saucers to make sure they don’t dry out.”
“We’re so pleased you’re available to come and stay. You’re like Coco and Rocco’s favorite aunt! We know you will all have a grand time together,” Kat said to her.
Delphine shot her a straightforward look. “It’s not like my social life is keeping me busy. Besides, I would rather spend my spare time with the pups, and I have the weekend off. So it all worked out!”
Kat and Philippe had developed a strong liking for this complex young woman whose sweet nature was hidden behind tattoos, piercings, and Goth clothing. She was the Mother Theresa of the animal refuge in Mougins and had nurtured Rocco and Coco when they’d first arrived there barely alive.
In the months since, at first by invitation and then sometimes of her own accord, Delphine had become a regular visitor at the villa. Kat and Philippe were always happy to have her company. They sensed Delphine felt welcome with them and not judged—which she implied wasn’t always the case with other people.
Kat hoped in time to discover more about her.
“All of our information is on this sheet of paper,” Kat said to Delphine. “Also, Didier and his crew will be around. Now we have the approval from the mairie, they’ve decided to work overtime on the stable. They will be happy to help if you need anything.”
“Pas de souci!” Delphine said, assuring them there was no need to worry. She wished them safe travels. “Éclatez-vous ce weekend!”
Kat smiled at that. Having a ball this weekend is just what I need!
“À dimanche soir!” Philippe said.
“See you Sunday evening,” Kat echoed, and then asked herself why she still felt the need to repeat things in English, when she was the only native English speaker present. Delphine and Philippe both smiled at her.
As they waved goodbye, Delphine was already engrossed in a game of fetch with the pups. Not one of the three noticed they were leaving.
Katherine and Philippe looked at each other and made sad faces about leaving the pups. Then they broke into grins.
“I’m excited about our little weekend away!” Kat said.
“It will be busy but fun!” Philippe agreed.
Kat could not stop exclaiming as the taxi made its way through the old town of Strasbourg, its narrow streets bordered by the classic half-timbered structures she had seen in so many photos. The driver apologized for inching along as he navigated cyclists, trams, pedestrians, and the occasional bridge.
“Of course, it’s the busiest time with everyone here for the Christmas markets,” Katherine said. “We’re happy to enjoy a slow drive and the chance to look around.”
Philippe agreed and pointed out a few spots to Kat as they passed by.
“Gosh! I knew there were canals running off the Rhine river here, but I never imagined there were so many. It’s sooo charming!” Kat said as she took photos through the open car window.
“Snap away! In case you don’t get back to this area of town,” Philippe encouraged. “This part of the historic center, Grand Ile, was filled with mills, tanners, butchers, and fishermen in the Middle Ages. The canals were essential for the movement of goods. It is known as Petite France. We will pass the cathedral in just a moment—it’s the second tallest in Europe, after Rouen, so you can’t miss it!”
“Oh, I can’t wait to walk around. I’m so glad I came with you!”
“Well, I know you and your camera will be very happy together today while I am away. Tomorrow I am all yours!”
Philippe was going to a special “by invitation only” event for fromagers that included a banquet that evening. Kat was pleased to have the time to herself. She knew she would be dawdling and taking tons of photos. Even though Philippe was always supportive and happy to wait around, she liked the freedom.
The flight from Nice had been just over an hour, and the hotel check-in was efficient. By noon they were sitting in a typically Alsatian restaurant that Gilles had recommended.
It took a few minutes to find the place, set down a narrow side street near the cathedral. The dark wood-paneled walls, carved wooden chairs, tables, and booths, and beamed ceiling created a cozy traditional atmosphere with an obvious Germanic influence.
Reading through the menu, Philippe reminded Kat, “No wonder Gilles said this town has become one of the foodie capitals of France!”
After a filling lunch of sauerkraut and German sausages, washed down with a pichet of local Gewürztraminer wine, Katherine and Philippe shared a piece of mellow Munster géromé cheese as the finishing touch. Philippe’s invitation for the afternoon and evening was sponsored by the top producer in the area of this celebrated cheese. “I’m very excited about this,” he told Kat. “It is a small, exclusive gathering, held once a year, and I’m honored to be part of it. You know this cheese has been produced in this region since the thirteen hundreds.”
“Bless those Benedictine monks,” Kat teased.
They toasted with their last drops of wine and prepared to head out, both eager to get on with their individual adventures.
“Don’t wait up, minou. I have a feeling I could be late.”
Kat laughed. “I know! When a group of fromagers gather, anything can happen. It’s not just about cheese!”
The afternoon passed quickly for Kat as she meandered through the winding streets. She had decided not to browse any of the hundreds of Christmas market stalls. That would wait until Sunday with Philippe.
There were plenty of images to keep her shutter steaming. After touring the impressive Cathedral of Notre Dame, she sat on a nearby heated terrace. Her thighs were still burning from climbing the 340-some steps to the top of the belfry. The view was as breathtaking as she had hoped, with the stone towers and church steeples of the old town dotted amongst the tiled triangular rooftops, crumbling chimneys, and gabled windows. In the distance, she could see mountain ranges in Germany and Switzerland as well as the lush vineyards and waterways of the Alsace-Lorraine.
Inside the cathedral, Kat had been awed, particularly by the stained-glass windows, some of which dated to the twelfth and fourteenth centuries. The tour guide had spoken extensively about how they had been hidden from the Nazis during World War II. He mentioned that this story had been part of the movie The Monuments Men, and she made a note to see if she could find it on Netflix when they got home. She remembered seeing the film when it came out and wondered if Philippe had, too.
In her seat on the terrace, she sipped a thick hot chocolate. It was accompanied by a warm kouglof, the quintessential Alsatian cake, dusted with powdered sugar and studded with almonds and raisins.
From her vantage point, Kat admired the richly decorated construction of the cathedral and lacy bell tower. Its pink-and-brown sandstone and single spire made it the most unique cathedral Kat had ever seen. She captured it from many angles as she attempted to fit it into one frame and recalled reading how writer Victor Hugo had described it as a “gigantic and delicate marvel.”
I would agree …
She stayed on the terrace, ordering a second creamy hot chocolate. The flavor was so rich and full, she thought, she could only describe the experience as total bliss.
No wonder Alsace is the champion chocolate-exporting region of France, she texted Gilles. So far your recommendations have been magnifique!
She waited until the chimes sounded on the hour. She wanted to experience what she had read was one of the most perfect volleys of bells anywhere. When it was over, she was very glad she had stayed, although she realized now that the peals could certainly be heard everywhere in town. They were loud!
She spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the surrounding area. Katherine crossed bridges and wandered along canals where the classic half-timbered homes were painted rainbow colors. In one of the town’s oldest houses, she discovered the Alsatian Museum. She was pleased that much of the information explained about the culture and traditions in English.
As dusk began to settle, the streets came alive with lanterns and twinkling lights. Decorations were strung and draped everywhere. Shop windows gleamed and beckoned. Holiday music floated from open doors, and the a cappella carols of strolling singers drifted through the streets. Magic was in the air.
Finding her way back to the cathedral, she enjoyed the Christmas aromas drifting around the markets: cinnamon, cloves, and orange wafting from vats of vin chaud, spicy gingerbread, roasting chestnuts. Friendly vendors offered samples of bredeles, the quaint traditional bite-size Christmas cookies. The variety of tastes and shapes was surprising.
I will buy a few packages of those tomorrow to take home.
Before she lost control and vanished into the market stalls, she walked over to the skating rink in front of the cathedral. She bought a foie gras sandwich, another recommendation from Gilles (“They’ve had a reputation for exquisite foie gras from Strasbourg since the seventeen hundreds, Kat. Don’t miss it!”). She paired it with a small glass of beer, which she knew was another must-have for the region.
The terrace was packed. She politely asked to sit on an empty corner chair at a table filled with merrymakers and was robustly welcomed in a variety of languages.
She watched the skaters and applauded groups of singers and buskers that strolled from table to table. When she finished her sandwich, a plate piled with beignets appeared in front of her, offered by her tablemates. Everyone was munching on them, and she accepted their gracious hospitality. Pitchers of aromatic vin chaud followed, along with a stack of paper cups.
Before long, Kat was engaged in conversation with visitors from many countries. They shared their experiences and offered suggestions for her market visit on Sunday. A wave of diverse accents rolled around the table. Kat’s heart was warmed at the ease with which friendship could be shared.
As she walked back to the hotel, her phone pinged with a text from Philippe asking about her day and suggesting she not wait up for him.
It was eleven o’clock when she finally climbed into bed, ready for a good night’s sleep. As she snuggled under the crisp sheet and voluminous duvet, Kat felt her anxiety about Christmas slipping back into her thoughts.
Everything here is so beautiful. It’s impossible not to feel festive—and I have to say I’m loving it. This may be just what I needed to finally put my anxieties to rest once and for all.