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Heritage and a holiday

A city that bears the architectural and cultural stamp of France and Germany



VISUAL TREAT Strasbourg looks best on an icy cold day

“Why is everybody looking at us?” whispered the daughter, anxiously. “Omigod, it’s you! ” hissed the husband. And with that, they fled, leaving me to stare into the middle-distance, and pretend that it didn’t bother me in the least that the milling tourists and locals alike were more interested in my outfit than the grand astronomical clock inside the beautiful old cathedral in Strasbourg, France. All because I had chosen, to team my big, black woollen coat with a grey pig-tailed hat, pink gloves and fluorescent green snow boots. Yes, it wasn’t the most coordinated of outfits, but hey, they were the warmest I possessed! I was never more thankful than when the clock struck 12.30 and the Apostles came out of the clock in procession — a daily event, played to packed audiences — and distracted the crowds. Strasbourg, often described as a city at the crossroads of Europe, has long been a bone of contention between France and Germany, and till date, this strategically located city bears the architectural and cultural stamp of both countries. But Strasbourg, I learnt , was snootily, fussily French in character, unlikely to forgive an unconventional style of dressing. Assuming that they might be just as fastidious about their language, I unleashed my rusty French on unsuspecting locals. And they surprised me, every one of them, by replying in English! Were they being nice , or were they driving home the point that my French was truly appalling, hmmm?

Markets and beyond

Strasbourg — an UNESCO world heritage centre — has clearly evolved around the magnificent sandstone Cathedral of Our Lady. The cathedral itself, awe-inspiringly tall and exceptionally beautiful, stood silhouetted against a pale, wintry sky like a fine, filigreed sandstone jewel; it managed to look both fragile and frightening at once! While the exquisite stain glass windows, carved figurines and slim turrets lent it an air of delicate nobility, the gargoyles – with their great, bulging eyes and nasty, leering looked like some gothic dhrishti pooshanikais.

Just outside was the bustling Christmas market, France’s oldest, and possibly finest, consisting of row upon row of wooden cabins, selling oh, just about everything — tree decorations, local handicrafts, beautiful ceramics, pretzels and crepes, smoking tureens of mulled wine, roasted chest nuts in twists of paper. Though the stalls made you want to linger and look, the prices, and the crowds simply drove us away.

Tongue-tied!

Strasbourg is peppered with numerous Place’s and Rue’s (squares and streets to the rest of us); and frankly, without a map, one is never sure which one the French are talking about, their mellifluous tongue being far from familiar!

The concierge of our hotel told us to get off the tram at ‘Grand Rue’; but had he not pointed it out on the street map, we might’ve sat around waiting for a stop called Cronroo! Easily Strasbourg’s prettiest district, Petite France has just one blemish, the rather unfortunate origin of its name.

Apparently, this district, once housed a hospital for what was then known as the French disease — syphilis — and ever since got saddled with its epithet. Today, its picturesque little alleyways groans under the weight of tourists’ feet!

Strasbourg’s interesting, happening city, and looks best on an icy day, when seen from the warm depths of a horse-drawn carriage. That was perhaps the best part of our visit – when we huddled up inside an old-fashioned wooden cab, drawn by – ooh la la — the fattest horses we’d ever seen, with several friendly wise-cracking Americans for company, woollen blankets draped over our knees, and watching the city, the lights and crowds go by.

APARNA KARTHIKEYAN

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