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A contentious region


With my fascination for Europan history as marked as it is Alsace is my Disneyland. And while everything historically significant was smothered in decorations it was still great because my other great weakness is Christmas. Paradise.

Alsatian wine is a bit of a thing so it seemed perfectly natural to find a cellar from the 15th century in the basement of a hospital. You can chart the exchange of this poor region from German to French hands by the labels on the barrels.

Every window fogs so cozily, as if the whole town were curling up to sleep.

Aha! Strasbourg, our Capitale de Noël indeed. All the old favourites are here.

…and crêpes. Well, if it’s tasty I keep an open mind about the seasonal relevance.

Lemon and sugar. I can deal with Christmas crêpes.

We met, on the train from Paris, a woman taking her little granddaughters to see the architecture of Alsace. That’s what we deducted, at least (her English paralleled our French), but looking at these buildings her sharp hand gestures were exact.

In miniature:



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