On the Road Again

We took off early this morning in our little car, said goodbye to beautiful Arles and romantic Provence, and headed north. What we decided to do was to drive to the Alsace Lorraine region of France, which is very close to the German border. We decided to get a room in the French town of Mulhouse and spend about three days visiting Colmar in France, and then spend a couple of days visiting the Black Forest area of Germany. Towns such as Baden-Baden, Freiburg, and Staufen are only a few miles away from here.

In Lourdes, Arles, and now here, we have stayed in Hotel Premiere Classe, and I have to admit that this is one way to save some money. The hotels are very modern. We don’t even talk with a human to check in. We just insert our card and follow the instructions. The rooms are small and clean. They are generally not right in town, so that’s what you sacrifice, but the cost is incredibly low. That allows us to spend more on food and fun, and the walks into town, at least thus far, have been fine.

We haven’t been out to look at any restaurants yet, but apparently the cuisine is more German than French in this part of the country. Saurkraut and sausages! Yum. We are a bit tired from the long drive (about six hours) and will probably take it easy tonight.

Driving on the tollways in Europe (which, by the way, are ENORMOUSLY expensive) is about as exciting as taking a cross-country trip in the U.S. The only difference is that you might see an occasional castle along the side of the road. To kill time, we listened to French radio stations. We found an oldies station that alternated between English and French songs. Bill would sing along with the French songs making up his own English lyrics. I’m pretty sure his translations weren’t even close, but they made me laugh. We also challenged ourselves by trying to figure out what the road signs meant. The one that really perplexed us was a big yellow sign showing a car exploding. That could mean there are errant militant factions loose in France, or it could mean that French cars spontaneously combust. Luckily, we didn’t face either scenario.

We stopped at a truck stop for lunch and to fill up our car with diesel gasoline (whew, THAT is an eye-opening experience; between that and the tolls, we might have to find an even cheaper place to stay!). We split what we thought was a bratwurst. After all, we were approaching the Alsace region. We took a bite and were surprised to find it tasted quite awful. I looked at our bill and discovered that we had ordered the one thing that Rick Steves said never to order in France: andouillette. He never says what it is aside from saying it is organ meat. And I will say he is correct in recommending that you not make that menu choice.