We’ve said goodbye to OH in Weggis (which we’ve learned, by the way, does NOT sound like Vegas–at least not if you want a local to understand you), and an early ferry to Luzern and then the train to Basel acted as portals into the French wine country. First, however, we had to walk to France:
Colmar was our major destination, a small city about an hour south of Strasbourg. The old city is a time travel experience: the small cobblestone streets are lined with 15th and 16th century homes with brightly painted exteriors and multi-colored shutters. The small canal that runs through one neighborhood is billed as a mini-Venice, but really is a pleasant foil to the wonderful old buildings that line the canal, and the many flowers that are pleasantly laid out along its edge. France feels distinctly different from Switzerland, even this part of France with its German influences (Alsace has been alternately part of Germany and France over the last several hundred years).
In the central plaza of the town is one of the more remarkable museums we’ve seen so far, the Unterlinden. The building, a former convent, houses an extensive selection of mostly Christian art, including a dramatic altarpiece adorned with bronze statues and, more interestingly, a series of side-panels in oil by Matthias Grünewald, the Issenheim Altarpiece, all a tribute to St. Anthony.
The convent atmosphere and highly charged religious images were splendidly painted by some of the most important artists of the period, but MM was perhaps most struck by an early still life of a surgeon’s cabinet from the 16th c., said to be the first known still life to be painted since antiquity (!?).
About four streets down from the museum was a large wooden synagogue (circa ?). The plaque on the outside wall was a haunting revelation of the history of the Jews in all of France, a commemoration to the Jews of Colmar who were deported to concentration camps and never returned. 
Our visits to two nearby wine-making villages were aided by the affable Yves, who drove us (in a clone of ME’s 1994 Dodge Infinity, color and all) past what he claimed was “the real” Statue of Liberty, lodged in a traffic circle. (Bartholdi, the sculptor responsible for France’s famous gift to the U.S., is one of Colmar’s best-known residents.)
Our first village, Riquewihr, was a uniquely well-preserved walled-in medieval town surrounded by vineyards. It’s Disneyland-like buildings and overall layout reminded AM of her visit (with Aa) to Rothenburg ob der Tauber in Bavaria. The beauty of this town might have been better appreciated if we had stayed overnight and avoided tourists by staying on the side streets. However, because of time limitations–Yves was waiting for us at the foot of the town gates–we could only jostle with the other tourists down the main, shop-laden street.
Yves sensed our disappointment and promised us that one half-hour in the neighboring town, Eguisheim, would provide a better experience, and he was right. In this equally pretty but a bit less crowded town, we were able to slip into the Joseph Freudenreich tasting room and sample some of the regions fine wines. One of our favorites was the 2006 Alsace rosé, which we look forward to imbibing in the very near future.
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halshop // July 27, 2007 at 6:05 pm |
The irony of being tourists among tourists. I feel like there ought to be a “tourists tourists tourists” sentence. Maybe we can figure out what it would mean.