C’est la V

From the XS of our Alsatian XmaS it was time to visit a country that just missed out on being included in Z2A and FFS and it seemed fitting to get there on this trip X, LuXembourg.

Thankfully, for us and the readers, the train from Colmar to Luxembourg went smoothly.  However, it was a classic let’s-try-to-knock-off-an-entire-country-in-a-day-and-pick-the-only-day-of-the-year-that-the-whole-country-shuts-down situation.  Luxembourg city was beautiful, we had a great, albeit terrifying balcony looking over the Xmas markets and the gorge, managed to find some cool (read: open) bars to eat and drink the night away and and made the most of having the streets to ourselves to explore and work out what we would have done…if it were open.

Another smooth trip to the freezing town of Nancy, France, was interrupted once we got into our hotel room and James noticed an alert on his phone indicating someone had been spotted on the security camera late at night back home.  Upon proceeding to check the live cam feed we managed to catch the flicker of lights down the side of our house….not festive belated carol singer lights, but more let’s see if we can open any windows type torch lights. The following is a true account of the events that followed:

James: “Merde”

Lea: “Well talk to them!”

James: “Merde”

James (over camera microphone): “Allo, allo…can I help you.” (Thus establishing dominance.)

Ready and armed with the next line of “Pretty please stop robbing us Mr burglar”, a confrontation was avoided as we realised it was, in fact, a neighbour trying to find our mains tap as a pipe had burst and was spraying onto the street. So, presumably, attracting local children to dance in the fountain to get out of the 40 degree Perth heat (we could only dream of).  Crisis avoided, now we just get to look forward to 24 hours travel followed by a bottled water showers when we get home.

Did I mention it was cold, it was ffffff…freezing in Nancy.  So much so that James, in a bid to keep warm, choked on cup of cloves while hiding at a bar in a tunnel and trying to down Vin Chaud as quickly as possible. Then, almost as a “screw you” to the hemisphere’s Christmas weather, needlessly ordered the reindeer for dinner, just two days after they’d completed their annual service. It was delicious, although Rudolph had his revenge as he made my nose glow, shiny and red (like a lighbulb)! (or it may have been the sub zero temperatures and abundance of vin chaud…we’ll never know.)

We found some cool bars, one was a tiny place with the majority of outside seating where we got to witness a true French experience as the locals battled the fabled tag team of emphysema and frostbite. And there were some great, more adult inclined XmaS markets in Nancy.  One in particular was classified as an outside bar (“outside”=a temporary dwelling delegated outside status to allow for smoking), where we stumbled in on a French-pop sing along with all the hits you’ve never heard of and where our screams of play “Horses” or “You’re the voice” fell on deaf ears…… then we needed to hang our clothes up next to an open window and sleep in the cold in order to avoid being charged for smoking.

Our train to Epernay (Champagne) was surreal.  We felt like a literal (and perhaps metaphorical) fog covered the entire country.  Where the fog receded for a moment, the sun shone on the frosted fields making the trees’ shadows look like they were wearing seasonal white jackets as the thawing frost left them with a thin white glow.

Our first Champagne tasting was outside.  James, full of adrenaline to make a mends for the last time in Epernay (reminder: “POP”), did’t feel a thing as he chased Champagne glasses across iced bench tops, ensuring we were drinking fast enough to avoid the wines freezing.  So cold, “how cold was it?”. So cold, even the tiny Xmas markets in Epernay were named: “Eper-neige”. A totally James approved pun, with “Neige” being French for “snow”…get it? That’s Champagne comedy.

We eventually worked out, when in Epernay, in winter, what the best way to keep warm is. Thankfully it’s the same answer as in summer to keep cool, cave (cellar) tours! On one of the more interesting tours we were shown an old green glass Champagne bottle and were told how they used to be made with very high levels of Uranium oxides for colour and, for fun, would glow in the dark. Which, less fun, would also kill you.  A lovely lady on the tour also pointed out that she had plates at home that glowed in the dark under a black light.  Now, I don’t know why she said this, it doesn’t sound like the same thing AT ALL, but she did…so James looked at Lea, mumbled something, Lea first giggled, then scowled and shook her head (a common sequence), and James could only bite his tongue instead of offering up suggestions for what might have happened to the plates. So hard he even drew blood…ironically, his lips now also likely glow under a black light.

Our most dangerous activity of the holiday was when we went spelunking.  Descending 106 steps some 20m into a wet cave, with clay rich floors and surrounded by un-exploded munitions (ie. high pressured Champagne bottles).  Or maybe when it was when James was nearly sacrificed to Bacchus or some other pagan gods when laughing at scallop shells placed on barrels in a biodynamic winery; or eating duck, so rare you could almost make out what it was quacking… “something, something…rabbit season” perhaps?  Farewell Epernay, sorry we forgot to see the church…again.

Last stop, Paris…what to say about Paris. We bought/rented (when writing I wasn’t sure which one, not obvious based on price) a 5th floor apartment on the rue de Rivoli, overlooking St Paul’s.  What else to say bout Paris:

  • The first night James ate a Quasi de veau (with veau maybe meaning calf…so we were fascinated to see what might turn up pretending to be veal);
  • We accidentally went to a (just lost but trying to regain) Michellin star restaurant because we loved how very basic it was 6 years ago and squabbled over who would order the pigeon;
  • We spent New Year’s Eve in our apartment with all our new friends: Laurent, Leclerc, Piper, Pol, Lally, Tatty and Mrs Cliquot, which was a bit tight given there was only one coq to share round…before venturing out to a bridge over the Seine to bring in 2025 watching fireworks over the Arc de Triumph and being shown that our discreet street drinking wasn’t required;
  • We saw, potentially our new best friend, on new year’s day popping Champagne by himself on a park bench yelling “Bonne Annee” (and simultaneous thoughts of: we should stay away and; oh…I guess thats what we look like…)
  • Lea got beaten by a cheese plate on Ile St Louis!! Cheese: 1, Lea: the rest (all by KO);
  • We wandered though areas to know where not to stay next time;
  • We saw new parks, markets, streets, galleries, museums, cemeteries and one disappointing canal that we’d never visited before;
  • We ate at an Italian restaurant so we could have some different flavours for once…Lea ordered pasta…with cheese…and creamy mushrooms, reminiscing over meals as far back as last week;
  • We also did our favourite Parisian things: drank Champagne on the balcony, in the lift (did i say fifth floor?), on the street, sitting by the Seine, on benches at Place des Voges and Place St Catherine (well away from aforementioned new friend) and at the breathtaking Palais Garnier;
  • We drank Champagne on top of the Montparnasse tower;
  • We narrowly missed a couple of opportunities to go to the Monet galleries and drink Champagne at Tuilleries or the Jardin d’Acclamitation, but having been to Giverny and Tuilleries previously, we had enough photos to do our own slide show at home. So we got our Monet for nothing and our clicks for free;
  • And on our last day, in an obvious bid to make James cry, while touring Victor Hugo’s house, Lea launched into a verse of One Day More!!

And that brings us to the end of our XmaS XS on trip X to Europe and trip V to France…c’est la V x

JKMNO en Alsace

Leaving Germany, the land of chocolate, we had no idea that we were leaving the simple travel, “warm” weather and “healthy” food behind us as we headed to our favourite French region of Alsace, our home for NOeL.

We’d splurged on 1st class ICE train tickets from Heidelberg to Strasbourg some 4 months earlier, so were feeling (what we thought was justifiably) smug as we woke up, ready to cross the unusual route between the countries at high speed, in comfort and, amazingly,  with only one train change. It turns out we were living in a world of what English speakers would call “blissful ignorance”…we’re still not even in the mood to ask a bot what the Germans would call it. “C’est la vie” in France I guess.  Then, as we stretched in bed readying for the ample leg room and ballet moves down the carriage at 300kmph carrying our drinks from the train bar:

Lea broke the mood with a simple: “Scheiße”

James (rolling over, then waiting a few seconds to see if this was something that quickly rectifies itself with a re-read) reticently asked the deep and probing question: 

“What?” 

Lea: “Our train is cancelled”.

James: <roll back over and assume Lea has it sorted>

Sorted it was-ish…Deutsche Bahn and its own AI (which we now assume had been monitoring our blog) offered up a number of alternatives (what’s a German compound word for revenge…ok, I know this won’t get past Lea), from which we chose what we thought would be the most efficient…having assumed the German AI would have at least chosen options that were POSSIBLE.  Our first ICE to Karlsruhe, was still in first class was and very nice, albeit quite delayed, which meant we had to sprint for our second more regional train to get to Appenweier, where the limitation of DB AI became clear.

You can probably street view Platform 9 of Appeweier or ask your own favourite AI to come up with a German compound word to describe standing on a barren platform in the freezing cold for an hour with hundreds of displaced European tourists and their bags waiting for the irregular arrival of the suggested substitute local train not much bigger than Perth’s Yellow CAT, but you won’t have experienced the seriousness in Lea’s face as she “suggested” we stand perilously close to the “gap” as the train approached because not everyone would fit in the train…close enough to ensure the already full to the brim train managed to trim this 42 year old backpacker’s ever growing nose hairs.

The train stopped. The doors, miraculously, opened right in front of aforementioned nose, but said nose pointed out (much in line with the season) that there was “no room in the Inn!” Lea: “GO!” I’d like to say James parted the way onto the train like Moses parting the Red Sea…I’d like to say that. But others, desperate to let their people go (to Strasbourg) guided me onto the train in the same way one guides olives through a press. Coming from a land where 8 PAX per acre is feeling a little crowded, to being unable to move your arms or avoid crushing fellow travellers as conflicting calls from outside the train of “push” were met with less and less air filled lungs screaming back “STOP, FULL” in multiple languages, I couldn’t help but picture how stupid we’d come across on the “When things go wrong” episode when they describe how desperate we all were to see santa….again.

So that was first class…

On to the food.  By this stage we were just working out that Christmas markets seem to be a special, once in a year thing to take the family to…not for random 40 somethings to chase down like dogs on heat to eat cheese soaked pasta and potatoes 3 times a day for 3 weeks type things…It probably should be a sign that any protein you’re getting is coming from…lardons. Ouch. Is there a French word for too soon? And speaking of dogs…there is a French term for “doggy bag” and it is “le doggy bag”.  Which a) seems unnecessary given how many people already take AND feed their dogs at restaurants and b) makes me glad we didn’t order any ‘sacs de chien’….

But the food really was starting to get a bit ridiculous for someone who’d promised his GP to start being better. So bad that after most meals James and/or Lea would comment  “Don’t tell Dr T.”  Not in a reference to Mr T after getting his PhD in “Pitying Fools”, rather a clever use of initials to describe our Doctor, who’s real name we can’t use in blogs and face we can’t show you on TV.

On to the weather.  It was cold.  We splurged for a balcony over the markets in Strasbourg where we’d stayed before (in an August, when it was warm). As we rugged up to enjoy our view on the first night, we saw a guy of unknown origin in thongs, shorts and singlet walk below us, he was 6’4” and full of muscles so we knew what to do!  We just smiled and….our lips cracked and we went back inside for some Carmex and another rug.

In Colmar (where we spent Christmas) we also had a balcony, and again (not that I’ve previously thought it pertinent) we were surrounded by bear decorations which made us great fodder for Insta/TicTok…myspace, MSN messenger types (search for Alsace bear houses with indignant, privileged Cremant drinking tourists).  In all seriousness, James was just glad his previous career as the Osh Kosh bear was prior to socials…nobody wants to know that this now Cremant guzzling 40 something backpacker was once the friendly embodiement of a much beloved children’s-wear brand all over Melbourne, and that behind the bear was a sad, near naked, teenager earning $10 per hour to pretend to be happy, silently giggle (Humphrey inspired) and hand out balloons to children (IT inspired).

Anyway…Noel en Alsace was amazing!!!  We visited 6 Alsatian towns in total, cooked an amazing Christmas eve dinner in Colmar, which was delish despite a lost in translation moment resulting in the use of creme fraiche as cream. And Christmas day itself was super cruisy with lots of new experiences – even one at some pop up bar where Lea approached a family of 4 wearing matching outfits, only to then open her jacket and flash them…. “How good’s KMAAART!!!!”, could probably be heard in Paris.  (NB: Turns out Lea was wearing the same jumper…jingle bell rock indeed).

Christmas market count: 30…something. Turns out, that’s about enough (or is it??). Yes…maybe.

All I want for Christmas is Gluh…

…wein.

Unfortunately this post covers all our time in Germany, not just Munich, so Lea’s suggestion of “It’s Bavarian to look a lot like Christmas” couldn’t be used.

XS24 got off to a great start by living up to its name, when, in the lounge in Dubai, some airlne big wig turned up and a proportionate response in service was observed as the bartender began roaming around pouring out vintage Moet like their livelihood depended on it…which it very possibly did, and we were happy to help out.

After a train from Munich airport, we popped up out of the ground in the middle of the Christmas markets of Marienplatz! With James brimming with joy and looking simultaneously like the oldest backpacker ever, and the only 42 year old around looking so excited for Christmas.

Christmas market count: 1

Our hotel was only a short stroll away, a far cry from the distance away we were on our first European adventure together, where James, at 30, looked like the oldest backpacker ever.  We were reaquainted with the enduring mystery of using European pillows for something other than obscure decoration, the reminder to mind the gap between mattresses to keep “man” hood in tact and James got immersed with einzelbettdeckenfreude (the joy of having a single bed cover).  The hotel was perfect…for us.  There was barely enough room to swing a cat, although cat swinging is probably frowned upon these days <joke deleted before making it to the editor, Lea>, and Lea is allergic anyway so we weren’t missing out. The shower “cubicle” more resembled a suspended animation pod where what gets cleanded is dependent on your arm length.  Lea definitely recommends the hotel with one tip: don’t get your feet dirty.

Munich was better than anticipated!  We walked for miles, with the realisation that my new iphone actually clocks fewer steps than the old one and thus explaining the mysterious recent weight gain; visited the Kunst museums at the Nymphenburg castle (which wasn’t what James had pictured); avoided making jokes about all the sausages with knoblauch; got to enjoy the famous German irony where at the LGBTQ+ run pink markets they were blaring James’ fav “carol”, Blue Christmas (Elvis), on our arrival (a similar sense of Christmas irony to the neighbouring Austrians, having penned Silent Night, despite the constant Church bells); and at same markets, desperate to play it cool, James instead spent much of the time bending over picking up his coins dropped after an innocent order of rainbow gluhwein and went on to shove a mini bottle of prosecco in his mouth when the adding of a straw caused it to explode.  So playing it cool looked rather more like he was hoping to be discovered by a roaming panto scout.

Christmas market count: 10

From Munich to Ulm, where we spent a couple of days with friends from home and their family, who showed us around both the town and the one amazing market at the foot of the Cathedral.  They taught us Weihnachtsmarktbudenschlängeltechnik (Christmas market weaving technique) and Glühweinstandwiederfindungsschwierigkeiten (the difficulties or finding your favourite Gluhwein stall in the market crowds).  They also showed us the closest, clean and free public toilets at the base of a carpark where they had also discovered and now displayed Roman ruins – in case you ever hear Lea proclaim, “I’m off to see the ruins” at a future party.  Aside from the amazing company, Christmas market and too many tequila shots (I’m conscious of internet naming anyone here out of privacy respects, but this point might make it a bit obvious who we were with), we also got to hear a car, wndows down in near zero degrees, driving past the ruins 😉 with “Living Next Door to Alice” playing! And of course, on seeing the impressive nativity, had the age old argument as to whether it would be harder to gather 3 wise men or a virgin…

Days without seeing green food: 5

Christmas market count: 11

To round out our Christmas tour of Germany, we had single nights in each of Esslingen and Heidelberg.  The former with the exceedingly amazing markets and the latter with the more impressive castle and served a side salad with my schnitzel!  Having four hotels in four nights, however, led to some serious Nachttoilettenorientierungsangst (night toilet orientation fear)!

Christmas market count: 18

In light of recent tragic events, we both feel so blessed and lucky to have had a safe and happy festive season in Germany, thanks to all the amazing people who put so much work into creating fairytales for so many strangers to enjoy. Merry Christmas to all, and we look forward to update you on our Christmas adventures in France.