Early morning walks are a common feature of my travels. The chill is noticeable as I leave the voco Strasbourg, but the clear skies promise a fairly pleasant winter day. It would certainly be more pleasant to visit in the summer, but I’m also finding I prefer the uncrowded off-season.
I walk briskly around the north end of the island that is home to the old city, headed for the Neustadt. It means “new town” in German name, a fitting name. But new is relative. I pause first at the Palais du Rhin. It’s clear the buildings are from an entirely different era, a far cry from the half-timbered houses that grace the heart of the old city.
Meandering further, I come to the Église réformée Saint-Paul. I’d seen the imposing church from my boat on the tour the previous day. I made a mental note to pay it a visit this morning.
I head across the River Ill, making my way down the east bank. The blue sky has gone missing, and I shiver in the morning air, keeping up a quick pace to ward off the cold. It’s still early enough that there are few others about.
Soon, I cross back over onto the island, back into the old city. As always, the spire of the Strasbourg Cathedral dominates the skyline.
The City Museum
My first real stop of the day is the Strasbourg City Museum. Or, more accurately, the Musée Historique de la Ville de Strasbourg. It’s located near the river a short distance from the cathedral. I find it to be well worth an hour and a half of my time. I honestly should have budgeted more, now intensely curious with Strasboug’s history.
So much of our understanding of history is colored by the current lines on the map. But things weren’t always what they are now. Strasbourg has an interesting history. The city has significant German influence even though it is part of France today. Which makes sense, as the Alsace region sits along the current border between the two countries.
Unlike many cities, Strasbourg enjoyed a period as a free city, which gave it a right to mint its own coins. It owed neither taxes or loyalty to any sovereign for many years. It also was heavily influenced by the early years of the Protestant reformation. Originally German, Strasbourg became French in 1681. All of this I read and learn from the city museum.
From the 17th century, Strasbourg would remain French, aside from brief periods of German annexation. I learn another interesting fact: Le Marseillaise was composed in Strasbourg. It hit a chord with French troops at the time, eventually becoming the national anthem.
Museums can really be hit or miss for me, but the Strasbourg City Museum proved to be a great enjoyment. The mix of art, artifacts, and Strasbourg history is excellent. It truly has been a remarkable city through the centuries. I leave the museum musing on the following description of the city.
A Sort of…Pizza?
I meander along the River Ill, my stomach grumbling at me. Yes, I know, food would be nice. But soaking in the city is more important. I poke my head into the Eglise Saint-Thomas, a Protestant church at the edge of Petite-France. It’s not jaw-dropping like the cathedral. Yet the vaulted interior filled with the flowing notes of the pipe organ leaves me with a wonderful impression.
Down the street is my destination: Le Thomasien, a rustic restaurant offering tarte flambée (in German, flammkuchen). I must give this Alsacien classic a try while here in Strasbourg. It’s a bit like a pizza, but on a much thinner crust and with a white cream sauce. The traditional comes with just onion and minced ham or bacon. I almost go with this, but I can’t resist adding a bit of cheese. It just doesn’t seem complete without it.
I’m pleased by the dish, yet it doesn’t come close to dethroning pizza’s place on my list of favorite foods. I’d take this over a poor pizza, don’t get me wrong. French food tends to set a high bar and live up to it. But this doesn’t hold a candle to the best pies I’ve enjoyed.
My hunger now in check, I head back out into the chilly afternoon to enjoy the city’s most picturesque neighborhood.
Petite-France
Photos of Strasbourg typically show the city’s iconic half-timbered houses of the Petite-France neighborhood. And this is for good reason. Of all the places I’ve seen so far in Strasbourg, this is the pinnacle. I can’t stop myself from taking photo after photo. I’m utterly enchanted.
The canals are still, allowing the buildings’ to be perfectly reflected in the water. I stand at the rail of a bridge and marvel. Few city streets have been this captivating.
I imagine the streets and canals in the summer, alive with pedestrians, terrace restaurants and cafes all packed. It must be quite a sight. Although I’m glad for my winter visit, part of me wishes – if just for a moment – that I could see this side of Strasbourg.
I continue my walk west along the island’s edge, eventually crossing the Ponts Couverts. I cross to the south side of the city, doubling back over the Barrage Vauban. I pause, looking back at the towers of the historic bridge, surrounded by Petite-France with the cathedral towering in the background. For a moment, in my mind’s eye, I see it as it would have been 500 years ago.
A Final Pick-Me-Up
As my time in Strasbourg is draws to a close, I end by walking the length of the Grand Rue. It’s lively for a winter day. I enjoy the people-watching as I slowly make my way back toward the cathedral.
A patisserie catches my eye. The line is out the door at L’Atelier 116, and I wonder what all the fuss is about. One look in the case of pastries, and my fate is sealed. I dutifully join the file of aspiring patrons.
Everything looks amazing – from creme beignets, to macarons, to fruit tarts, it’s a delight for the senses. I want to try everything. But I’m able to resist, keeping myself to simply an eclair and an espresso. Leaving France without having one of favorite pastries would be a travesty. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Adieu, Strasbourg
I pause as I pass the Cathedrale Notre-Dame, taking in the city’s iconic church one final time. Returning to the voco Strasbourg, I fetch my luggage and walk to the train station. I will miss this place. In just two brief days, it has become of of my favorite cities I’ve ever visited.
I look back as the coach crosses into Germany. The spire of the Cathedrale Notre Dame is still visible as we pass through Kehl, over 5 kilometers away. I find myself thinking how wondrous a sight it must have been for those working in the fields centuries ago. Cathedrals are remarkable now. It would have dominate the landscape then, a constant reminder of it’s central place in society.
Eventually, my mind returns to the present. The cathedral has passed from view, and the evening is fast approaching. I turn my mind toward Baden-Baden, my next stop.
