It turns out both P and I came home from Strasbourg with one more souvenir: a gastrointestinal virus. Just after we got home, I got very sick and assumed it was from the ride home. Though I am prone to motion sickness, I must admit even I was surprised at this level of reaction after only a smooth TGV and subway ride and thought, "How on Earth do I still love traveling?!" But I realized it was a bug deep into the night when I was repeatedly hugging the toilet -- not just euphamistically, but physically, because the cold porcelain felt so good. And the joys of parenting: P came down with it in the middle of the night, and I had to take care of her, get up with her, and clean up after her all night long.
Some sharp readers will be remembering that I am not a single parent and wondering why Anthony didn't help P. Around 2am when she came into our room sick, he switched places with her. He went to sleep in her top bunk, saying he hadn't had a lot of sleep with coughing/kicking kids in the hotel room for the past few nights (wait -- wasn't I in the same hotel room/bed?). If you are thinking that is a seriously lame excuse, and that he should have let me rest, and that this posting will publicly vilify him....well, let's just leave it at that.
Except to add that the next day when I finally felt like I might be able to hold some food down, he made himself and G some lunch and left me to make my own oatmeal.
I should add that this is the first sick day I've had since I was pregnant with P six and a half years ago. At that time, I was on bedrest, and my mother and nephew Sam were both staying with us to help out with G, then a toddler. Because our flat only had one bathroom at the time, and we were all sick for days, we issued everybody their own personal pail. Indelibly etched in my mind is the image of my mother shuffling down the hall holding her little bucket. This video, from TV cartoon Family Guy, says it all.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4eYSpIz2FjU
After 24 hours of our house being just like a Roman vomitorium -- but without the fun of first getting drunk -- we are all back to normal. And perhaps, after the notoriety gained from this posting, I can count on Anthony to bring his nursing skills to the next level (to any level, that is) when I next get sick six and half years from now.
Showing posts with label Alsace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alsace. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Strasbourg, Capitale de Noël
We have been warned that we would return home from our long weekend with a lot of Christmas tchochkes we don't need. With that in mind, we are pretty pleased when it turns out that all we come home with is (and, yes, of course this is "sung to the tune of..."):
12(hundred) photos
11-inch wreath
10 art projects
9 glass tree balls
(8 of them unbroken)
7 other ornaments
6 German beers
5 cups of Alsace wine [a.k.a. 1 bottle]
4 wood shapes to paint
3 figurines
2 ceramic houses
and a partridge for our Chistmas tree.
The town proclaims itself the "Capitale de Noël." While it is unclear whether it is the Christmas capital of Alsace, of France, of Europe, or of the world, what is clear is that the title is well deserved at some level. At one point P remarks,
(note from P, age 6, grade 1, called CP here):
There are markets everywhere, most of them selling Christmas decorations, treats, or things-one-gives-as-gifts-that-may-or-may-not-say "Strasbourg" in red glitter. We give the girls 10€ each for a shopping spree (ironically, we call this their Hanukah present...), and they choose a few ornaments and little ceramic houses as souvenirs of the town. As you can see from the photos, the houses do, indeed, look just like the town. The main difference between these old colombage house (the wood-beam and plaster style) and the ones we saw in Normandy is that many of them in Strasbourg are colored.
The city has put up the best children's village I've ever seen at any festival, with craft projects that rotate from day to day and an assortment of two-person strategy games that are new to us, such as sortilege, assaut, moulin, and alquerque.
Naturally, this is the girls' favorite area of the whole city and festival. What I love most about it -- and find to be culturally fascinating -- is that not one of the art projects or games has anything to do with Christmas. You know with 100% certainty that if this were in the US, the children would be making ornaments or decorating gingerbread men and every item would be in the silhouette of candy canes, bells, reindeer, Santa Claus, gift boxes, Christmas trees, candles, snowflakes, snowmen and of course the P.C. obligatory menorah, Jewish star and Kwanzah candelabra. Instead, the girls made silhouettes of dragons and unicorns. They made Mardi Gras masks. The face painting station went with unicorns, monsters, and fairies. There was print-making where they combined animal heads with different bodies. At a sewing station you could make up your own creatures. And G went to a station for older kids where she was instructed to make a stamp of a monster (she went multi-armed alien) using very use sharp tools.
There was hail and the tiniest bit of snow, hot chocolate, and a lot of Christmas spirit. And just a two-hour TGV ride back to paris. A wonderful winter weekend.
12(hundred) photos
11-inch wreath
10 art projects
9 glass tree balls
(8 of them unbroken)
7 other ornaments
6 German beers
5 cups of Alsace wine [a.k.a. 1 bottle]
4 wood shapes to paint
3 figurines
2 ceramic houses
and a partridge for our Chistmas tree.
The town proclaims itself the "Capitale de Noël." While it is unclear whether it is the Christmas capital of Alsace, of France, of Europe, or of the world, what is clear is that the title is well deserved at some level. At one point P remarks,
(note from P, age 6, grade 1, called CP here):
strasbor is mor decretid then paris and paris is mor decretid then san fransisco! so
by the transotiv proprte of inecwolates, strasbor is more decretid than san fransisco!]
by the transotiv proprte of inecwolates, strasbor is more decretid than san fransisco!]
[Ed translation: "Strasbourg is even more decorated than Paris and Paris is more
decorated than San Francisco! So, by the Transitive Property of Inequalities,
Strasbourg is more decorated than San Francisco!" Ha, ha! Just threw that last
bit in to see if you were paying attention. She's not that precocious. What she
actually says is "by transitive logic..."]
There are markets everywhere, most of them selling Christmas decorations, treats, or things-one-gives-as-gifts-that-may-or-may-not-say "Strasbourg" in red glitter. We give the girls 10€ each for a shopping spree (ironically, we call this their Hanukah present...), and they choose a few ornaments and little ceramic houses as souvenirs of the town. As you can see from the photos, the houses do, indeed, look just like the town. The main difference between these old colombage house (the wood-beam and plaster style) and the ones we saw in Normandy is that many of them in Strasbourg are colored.
The city has put up the best children's village I've ever seen at any festival, with craft projects that rotate from day to day and an assortment of two-person strategy games that are new to us, such as sortilege, assaut, moulin, and alquerque.
Naturally, this is the girls' favorite area of the whole city and festival. What I love most about it -- and find to be culturally fascinating -- is that not one of the art projects or games has anything to do with Christmas. You know with 100% certainty that if this were in the US, the children would be making ornaments or decorating gingerbread men and every item would be in the silhouette of candy canes, bells, reindeer, Santa Claus, gift boxes, Christmas trees, candles, snowflakes, snowmen and of course the P.C. obligatory menorah, Jewish star and Kwanzah candelabra. Instead, the girls made silhouettes of dragons and unicorns. They made Mardi Gras masks. The face painting station went with unicorns, monsters, and fairies. There was print-making where they combined animal heads with different bodies. At a sewing station you could make up your own creatures. And G went to a station for older kids where she was instructed to make a stamp of a monster (she went multi-armed alien) using very use sharp tools.
There was hail and the tiniest bit of snow, hot chocolate, and a lot of Christmas spirit. And just a two-hour TGV ride back to paris. A wonderful winter weekend.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Borderline Menu
We have come to Strasbourg for a long weekend, determined to get ourselves in a real holiday mood with whatever this French city on the German border has to offer: cold weather, festive decorations, charming architecture. I have been told -- by a Frenchwoman no less -- to make sure to try Strasbourg's delicious foods, which are Germanic, but improved by being Frenchified and more refined. That is like saying Arnold Schwarzenagger would be a great ballerina if only you put him in a tutu. So let's call a spade a spade: it's German food.
The jarret de porc, or pork knuckles, are my "best" local meal in Strasbourg. We try the flamenkuche -- known here also as tarte flambée, and in English as flatbreads with cream and toppings. There is no other way to describe this other than to say that it is Germanic pizza, and that there is a reason there's no such thing as a German pizza parlor in the U.S.. You know that expression that even bad pizza is good pizza? Well, when even 6 and 8 year-old American children refuse to order it any more, you know that, in fact, this pizza is so bad, it's bad. Anthony tries the choucroute with its many boiled pink sausage meats on top. This means sauerkraut, and it is fine and tangy -- at least you would expect them to get that right here -- but the boiled meats are (avert your eyes, bad pun coming) the wurst.
[Ed. note: Anthony just read this and told me he liked the meats that came with the sauerkraut. But he just doesn't have good taste. Except in women.]
On the streets, the pretzels are soft, but served cold and without mustard (Why? What did I ever do to you, Strasbourg?!). There are at least twenty varieties of bredele, cute button-sized Christmas cookies in a variety of shapes. The stars taste just like the crescents which taste just like the bells which taste just like airplane food cookies. The only exception is the bredele we find that is flavored with geranium, which tastes -- according to Anthony -- like dishwashing liquid. I almost liked that one: At least it had flavor.
Ironically, never in my life have I been someplace where it is so hard to get a table in a restaurant. We are turned down from nearly ten restaurants over the course of an hour wandering around town on a Sunday night, no less.
I do like the roasted chestnuts being sold around town from train-shaped stands: hot, slightly burned, and great hand-warmers in their paper bags. The biggest hit, for myself and Anthony at least, however, is the glühwein -- hot mulled wine -- along with the utter lack of open container laws. The entire town is walking along blissfully warming themselves up with hot spiced wine. So much of the alcohol has burned off that even I am capable of downing a whole coffee-to-go-sized cup of it. Both red and white. Perfect for the winter weather. When indoors and not presented with glühwein, Anthony makes do quite happily with a big almost-Germanic beer. No complaints there.
Go to Strasbourg for the Christmas markets. Go to Strasbourg for the colorful buildings. Go to Strasbourg for the cobbled streets and storybook lanes. But Gott in Himmel, just don't go for the food.
The jarret de porc, or pork knuckles, are my "best" local meal in Strasbourg. We try the flamenkuche -- known here also as tarte flambée, and in English as flatbreads with cream and toppings. There is no other way to describe this other than to say that it is Germanic pizza, and that there is a reason there's no such thing as a German pizza parlor in the U.S.. You know that expression that even bad pizza is good pizza? Well, when even 6 and 8 year-old American children refuse to order it any more, you know that, in fact, this pizza is so bad, it's bad. Anthony tries the choucroute with its many boiled pink sausage meats on top. This means sauerkraut, and it is fine and tangy -- at least you would expect them to get that right here -- but the boiled meats are (avert your eyes, bad pun coming) the wurst.
[Ed. note: Anthony just read this and told me he liked the meats that came with the sauerkraut. But he just doesn't have good taste. Except in women.]
On the streets, the pretzels are soft, but served cold and without mustard (Why? What did I ever do to you, Strasbourg?!). There are at least twenty varieties of bredele, cute button-sized Christmas cookies in a variety of shapes. The stars taste just like the crescents which taste just like the bells which taste just like airplane food cookies. The only exception is the bredele we find that is flavored with geranium, which tastes -- according to Anthony -- like dishwashing liquid. I almost liked that one: At least it had flavor.
Ironically, never in my life have I been someplace where it is so hard to get a table in a restaurant. We are turned down from nearly ten restaurants over the course of an hour wandering around town on a Sunday night, no less.
I do like the roasted chestnuts being sold around town from train-shaped stands: hot, slightly burned, and great hand-warmers in their paper bags. The biggest hit, for myself and Anthony at least, however, is the glühwein -- hot mulled wine -- along with the utter lack of open container laws. The entire town is walking along blissfully warming themselves up with hot spiced wine. So much of the alcohol has burned off that even I am capable of downing a whole coffee-to-go-sized cup of it. Both red and white. Perfect for the winter weather. When indoors and not presented with glühwein, Anthony makes do quite happily with a big almost-Germanic beer. No complaints there.
Go to Strasbourg for the Christmas markets. Go to Strasbourg for the colorful buildings. Go to Strasbourg for the cobbled streets and storybook lanes. But Gott in Himmel, just don't go for the food.
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