REGULARLY
find my way to France. Some of it can be blamed on upbringing, studying
with the Services Culturels of the French Embassy at age six. The
consequence of that is a Parisian accent, but strangely an ear that
is more finely tuned to the conversations of the southern French.
There is a theory that down south, not only do
folks talk a bit more slowly, they do so with a slight accent that
appears to be closer to what Anglophones think is French. I’m not
sure if this is true in my case, but my comprehension seems to worsen
the further north I get. Colmar, or any place in the Alsace, is contrastingly
comfortable despite being in the northeast:
not touristique like Nice, not fast-paced (by French standards)
While there were plenty
of tourists when I visited, they did not overrun the Alsatian
town as some of the Cinque Terre
towns in Italy |
like Paris. It is French enough for the Francophile without its history
being rubbed in your face as more historical locations can be known
to do. It embraces the visitor as a place that has taken the best
of both sides of the border—and wishes to absorb more.
It is perhaps no surprise given the region’s chequered
past. It was Swiss half a millennium ago and independent until 1798
when its inhabitants voted to become part of France. Germany occupied
it between 1870 and 1918. It seemed not to mind being slightly confused
about whether it sends out a French character. Colmar feels more
multifaceted than Switzerland, less than an hour away to the southeast,
and which seems to draw sharp divides between its regions and their
predominant tongues. Despite past conquests (or as a result of it
giving rise to both beauty and historical significance), Colmar
was spared bombing during World War II, preserving this town of
70,000.
While there were plenty of tourists when I visited,
they did not overrun the Alsatian town as some of the Cinque Terre
towns in Italy. Nor did these tourists, including one group of Caucasian–Americans
travelling on the proceeds of their pension plans, feel particularly
out of place. Plenty of Germans were there on the Sunday I arrived,
probably to sample the food and the local bakeries. About the only
tourism-related venture that seemed out of place was a vehicle disguised
as a train, running through Colmar’s cobbled streets, with tourists
as passengers in its many carriages. Walking really did beat this,
not just because of the satisfaction of self-discovery, but because
of style. I had driven in from Germany myself earlier in
the day, after a tour of car museums. The autobahnen are
wonderful for speedy journeys and there were numerous signs pointing
to Strasbourg and Mulhouse as I neared Switzerland. While I could
have stayed in Mulhouse—known for both a Peugeot factory and the
National Car Museum—Lucire’s New York associate publisher
Ann Fryer had strongly recommended Colmar. She and her classmates
in her high school days would come to the part of Colmar called
‘La Petite Venise’ from Luxembourg and that a canal ride was to
die for without playing to the stereotype of going to the grande version in
Italy.
We can add a dash of Italy (even Italian cuisine along the canals)
to the France, Germany and Switzerland that Colmar possesses.
CONTINUED
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MAIN PHOTOGRAPH:
It is possible to drive on some streets in the old town, but not
recommended. TOP: Colmars
streets are worth the exploration and walk, for art museums, bakeries
and restaurants. ABOVE: A tour in
the old town—this distant “train” was the only thing out of place
in Colmar.
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