Part 4, Over-The-Hill In Europe
Strasbourg, France
November 25
We left the Airbnb in Konstance, Germany and drove towards Strasbourg, France. The journey would take two and a half hours. Heather wanted us to see the big Christmas market there. Seems every town and city in Europe had a Christmas market, but Strasbourg was one of the biggest and best.
Heather had gone to it the year before and had found a parking place right next to the Cathedral and within easy walking distance of the market. She hoped to do the same this year, but traffic was backed up all over the city center, bumper to bumper, and oft’ times not moving at all. Though we could see the spire of the church, no cars moved in that direction. Our problem was how to get Jackie close enough to the market with her walker, so she didn’t have to traverse a long distance over streets and sidewalks, some of them made with cobblestones.
While we were stuck in traffic, I enjoyed seeing the historic city: the narrow streets, the buildings, many of them were four stories tall or more with steep roofs and dormers, the river, the cobblestones, the churches, the houses, and people on bicycles. Other than the inhabitants being dressed in today’s fashions, the city landscape resembled that in old movies with a plot set in Paris. Yes, Strasbourg lacked the iconic Eiffel Tower in the background, but in my mind, it was easy to picture allied tanks rolling over the paving stones in a WWII film about liberation of Paris.
There were so many cars downtown, it was just one big traffic jam. Nobody was going anywhere fast. In contrast, bicycles seems the best way to get around town. While we were stalled in traffic, bicyclists whizzed around us, on the street and even on the sidewalks! People rode them because they could get to where they wanted to go. I even saw one couple riding double as they cruised past us.
There were clusters of parked bikes everywhere, by the curb, and in the medium between opposite lanes of traffic. Thirty or more bicycles were in some “parking” areas waiting for their owners to return.
I noticed bicycles stacked on bicycles, and on closer inspection saw they were old bikes. On some, the chain was off the sprockets and rusted. On others, the seat upholstery was torn, or the seat was just gone. One bike I saw looked like a car had rammed into the back tire and bent the rim, making it impossible for the wheel to go around. I hoped the rider escaped without harm. How long the bikes had sat there, I did not know, but I was pretty sure the owners were not coming back. I thought the city should send a truck around to collect the junk bicycles. They would need a semi-truck to get them all!
We sat in traffic for over two hours before Heather decided to implement plan B. When we finally cleared the congestion of the city around the market, she drove us to a parking garage, farther away, but with access to the tram which could take us back downtown. The problem was it was full! She drove to one even farther away. It was full, too, but we got in line with some other cars with the hope people would leave and we could enter. We didn’t have to wait long, and several cars exited the garage and our gate opened and let an equal number of autos enter, including Heather’s Mini Clubman.
We got JJ’s walker set up and exited the garage, crossed over one street and found ourselves on the platform to buy tickets and board the tram. When we boarded the train, it was crowded, and we had to stand in the middle and hang on for dear life as it swayed back and forth making fast tracks down the rails. A lot of people got off at the first stop, most of them standing in the aisle like us. There was still not an open seat for JJ, but a courteous young lady stood and gave up her seat so Jackie could sit.
For the next three stops, I hung on to a pipe pedestal that was screwed to the floor, with one hand, and with the other, did my best to keep Jackie’s walker from swinging around and striking another passenger. Our destination reached, we left the tram and walked a block to the square, the site of the Strasbourg Christmas Market
Europeans were big on Christmas, but not so big on Jesus. France, like the USA, was a post Christian country, though it probably had a head start of more than a decade in ridding people’s lives of all trappings of God. The holiday became secularized. They liked the idea of giving presents, and the decorations, but like here, most symbols of the season were decorated trees, snow, Santa Claus, and old St. Nick. It had less to do with the baby in the manger, God incarnate, coming to earth to live the life we were incapable of living, to willingly take the punishment for our sin, and die the death we deserved, so that we could have eternal life. There was simply no room for Jesus in the end!
The Christmas Market was set up with decorations, colored lights, and booths that sold food, drinks, gift items, and other trinkets to the folk filling the square. The great assemblage was a churning sea of humanity, human waves complete with whitecaps, a smattering of white knitted hats on heads and white scarves around necks to block out the cold. These bobbed up and down with the ebb and flow of the crowd. Many people were standing still, eating, and drinking or talking with friends, but like ocean reefs, they impeded others, like us, who were trying to navigate to the far side.
I was surprised by the number of Muslims attending the Christmas Market. I could tell their religion by the hijabs the women wore on their heads. In the cold, the headgear seemed like a good idea. It would keep their ears warm! The men blended in well with the Europeans around them. I guess everybody liked a holiday party, even if its roots sprung from an opposing religion. I remembered that Islam gave Jesus, though they did not believe he was God, a place of honor as a great prophet and held him in reverence, as such.
Sadly, their erroneous respect for Jesus was probably greater than that of most in the crowd, who maybe gave a token nod to God by attending mass at the cathedral on Christmas and Easter but had no time for Him the rest of the year. Baby Jesus coming on Christmas day was just a cute story, an excuse to have a party, but not a history changing event that begged for their attention.
People were pressed so tight together, I couldn’t take a full step for fear of kicking someone, or tripping, so I did the two-foot shuffle and slowly propelled my body forwards, but with a slight sideways movement. Heather had to hold her dog, Chewy, in her arms so he wouldn’t get trampled to death.
We had not eaten anything since breakfast, so about halfway down the row of booths we became a clogging reef and ordered some food. The place sold large waffles and crepes that were smothered in whipped cream and sweet syrups. We ordered crepes. The batter was poured onto a griddle about eighteen inches in diameter. When it was cooked to perfection, it was drenched with generous amounts of caramel and chocolate, and we asked for a fresh banana to be sliced up and laid in the mix. Then the whole thing was folded up and handed to us on napkins. To indulge in such sacchariferous delectability, I had to break my sugar fast, again! In eating that one morsel of decadent lusciousness I ingested more refined sugar than I had in the previous eighteen months, well, at least since I ate that slice of Black Forest Chocolate Cake three days before when we stopped for lunch in the Black Forest.
With snacks in our hands, we continued our two-foot shuffle towards the far side of the square. Trying to walk without tripping and eat without making a mess proved to be difficult!
When the swell of people ebbed like a retreating wave in the ocean, a flash of feminine flesh betwixt black boots and a short dark skirt, darted from the somber uniformity of the masses. Mini skirt! They were rare in that winter crowd. I had only seen three! Yes, I saw them! I may be old, but I’m not dead! I could discern no further details of the wearer. Was she young, or old? I did not know. Was she pretty? No clue! She wore a knit cap on her head, hiding her hair and much of her face, and her upper body was encapsulated in a heavy winter coat. In my muddled mind, my only thoughts were questions, “Why?” and “What kind of fool female would wear a mini skirt to an outdoor event where she would spend two or three hours in near freezing temperatures?”
She made me think of MKs I had known, missionary kids who grew up in the tropics but returned to the States. On the coldest day of the year, their winter attire consisted of a heavy coat, shorts and flipflops. They should should have known better, and so should that lady in the Christmas Market!
The mulitude was sparse around the big Christmas tree at the far end of the square and Jackie even found a log to sit on to finish eating her crepe. Then it was time to shuffle back through the throng of people. Along the way we bought gifts, cookies and candy for the grandsons, Black Forest coffee beans for Cody and Beka, and some jewelry for Haley in appreciation for her feeding and watering all the pets back home.
Our shopping over, we headed back to the tram. It had been a long day, and we were looking forward to getting back to Heather’s house and a good night’s sleep. It was nighttime when we left the market, so the two hour ride home would be in the dark.
FIN
More Over-The-Hill In Europe
- https://fillburns.com/2023/12/07/over-the-hill-in-europe/
- https://fillburns.com/2023/12/09/over-the-hill-in-europe-2/
- https://fillburns.com/2023/12/12/a-castle-for-milady/
- https://fillburns.com/2023/12/15/temptations-galore-inside-the-door/
Tales From Green Hell
- https://fillburns.com/2023/01/16/hypothermia/
- https://fillburns.com/1978/02/21/its-a-wonderful-life/
- https://fillburns.com/1978/02/16/no-safeway-stores-in-the-jungle/
Writings By Phil 
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