Merci pour la pomme!

27/10/10

Metz/Strasbourg, France



Did someone order a German Influenceburgher?



I just rode in from Strasbourg, and boy are my legs tired! But the perfect weather today and the picturesque towns we passed through made the hundred mile journey a pleasure and sincere sensation. Anyone who has ever ridden a bike for a length of time knows that wind is the single worst enemy of a pleasant ride. Better put, it makes or breaks the ride, for a stiff wind in the correct direction is worth its weight in gold (dare you seek to hold the wind?) for a man on a mission (from God, no less). Today's ride benefited from a limp flag at the beginning of the day and a gentle tailwind as we approached Metz. These pristine conditions put me in a sing-song mood that did not abate as the ride wore on. Around the halfway point, after having climbed a moderate hill, we stopped to shed a layer and snap a few photos. As we did not expect anything special atop the hill, we were doubly astonished by our amazement at the nothing we found. Guh? I'm serious: Nothing is extremely jarring when it makes you realize you are constantly being bombarded by something. What we experienced was true, profound, and deafening silence - Paul Simon knows what's up. Being out in the middle of vast grassy farmland, no cars could disturb the air; traveling on a calm day, no wind could blow past the ears. The mooing that issued from the cows every ten seconds was muffled by the stillness in an eerie manner, only peculiar because of the constant noise to which we are subjected. Otherwise, the all-consuming silence was quite comforting, promising security and removing all cares.



Ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard



What brought us to these silent fields of plenty in the first place? Strasbourg, where my cousin-in-law Sarah is living at the moment, is a mere 100 miles SE of Metz, some 5 km from the German border. We trekked the full distance on Monday, stumbling upon some of the most picturesque mountain villages in the process. Ah, but a stiff wind hampered our progress, causing us to arrive thirty minutes late and miss Sarah by ten minutes. Luckily, she wandered back a bit worried to the only place we knew to wait for her, so that night we dined on some traditional Alsace fare. This entails white wine, tarte flambee (a paper-thin pizza-like dough with cheese and onions), Baeckeoffe (lamb, pigs knuckle, and pork roasted with potatoes and carrots), and some kugelhopf for dessert. Very good eatin', to say the least.


The following day, Sean and I checked out the Strasbourg cathedral, which rises some 142 meters above the cobblestone square. The inside is currently covered in scaffolding and thus is far inferior to the imposing, almost scary, exterior. At night, we met up again with Sarah after she got off work and toured the EU buildings in Strasbourg. While this was quite a pleasant stroll, it pales in comparison with what was to follow. We chose a nice cafe to eat some dinner and were greeted by a friendly jokester of a waiter who pointed out the fact that we were carting around a bunch of apples. Sarah seemed to be quite smitten with the fella, for he was a French charmer who won all our favor. We had such a delightful time at dinner with each other, with Sean's Leffe bier, and with the waiter's good humor, that we decided to leave him with a special tip. Yes, we gave him one of our apples. Now, this would have been enough of a gas if we had the laugh and left, but we happened to backtrack past the cafe just as the waiter was clearing off our table. He saw the apple, looked out for us and noticed us across the way, grabbed the fruit and leapt out the door, proclaiming to the world, "Merci pour la pomme!" A perfect ending to a perfect meal.


To finish the night, we headed to a bar, had a drink, and sang along to the Billy Joel/Sir Elton John playlist Sarah had with her (alright, Sean and Sarah did the singing; I did the documenting) before moving onto the Beatles and then calling it a night. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway in earnest), seeing Sarah brought us great joy and giddy happiness. Although the lodging was fairly expensive and the roundtrip was a steep 200 miles, the trek to Strasbourg was well worth every Euro-kilometer.


Cadillac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac-ac!







Oh, and basketball seems to be starting up again, at least according to this European newspaper. Nothing against Joakim, but I'm not sure he's yet at the level of LeBron, Kobe, and Tony Parker. I wonder if his French descent has anything to do with his inclusion here...

Let the games begin! And I wish I could have seen the Celtics/Heat game yesterday; anyone watch it?