понедельник, 22 октября 2007 г.

Impressions of a trip to Alsace (I)

Tiny villages snuggle like cats sleeping on wine hills. Goldherbstliches light trickling down from heaven, where the winding streets of the picturesque half-timbered facades regenbogenpastellen shimmer. Some zigzags up cling squat huts with sorgenzerfurchter face of the slope. For decades they live with the fear, and tumbling down to time. Hard bricks sits in the earth every few kilometers graufelsige a castle. A farmer on a wine-red McCormick eggt his steep field and crawls to the mountain foot. The impish yellow vine rows on the mountain terraces have been pollinated with gold powder.

Everywhere herausgeputzte color joy. Ensuring themselves to be happy, but especially for the guests. In picturesque spots like Riquewihr, Ribeauvillé or Kayser-the home of Dr. Albert Schweitzer lives a little like the zoo, the same idyllic spots in more populated open-air museums. Inside swells thicker soup tourists through the narrow alleys. Will busseweise herangekarrt, hineingepfropft, bottled, crowded excluded. Umbrellas soar like toothpicks for guidance from the schwabbelnden mass-yaps and follow blindly, expressed the breitflügligen flat noses, including window panes to inhabited rooms. Times look like whoever lives, the lives here. Hardly an angle that is not already on celluloid or chip is banned.

Behind their hands yawn the houses of Riquewihr, but experienced her smile, wear their brave colored dress costumes. They can be begrabbeln and hold still for the buzzing, whirring cameras. You know the procedure for decades, the angekarrten hordes, the pushing, the Wuseln who astonished mouths, the ecstatic eyes, the folk stuff. During the week, especially on weekends. You do nothing more of it. The faces that they begaffen, change and similar but striking. Rounded Judea, reizüberflutet purr with enthusiasm, permanent wave, hair lichtendes deck. Few exceptions. Half of their views is through the viewfinder of the camera. Erika, Gisela ... something closer to Werner, and now poison-smile!

On the facades clatter countless wooden signs. "Plat du jour," "menu du jour," Baeckaouffa, tartes gratinées. Venez nombreuses! Come, drink, woods, let us your best. And if you are tired, we have even kitschy Putten, quietschbunte postcards, printed Steingutbecher unkind to the town hall, pendants, pennants and plush storks, the finger pressure on her stomach with loudspeakers to rattle and songs crow.

Small children from the village in costumes dancing a dance stripes on the cobblestones and lilt lively children's songs. The eyes of the public passing shine, the camera flashes twitch. There is coffee and cake, baked. Down at City Hall bollert "le petit train." Equality is back downhill. A small disguised as a steam engine tractors deported zahlkräftige tourists sheep across the Gassengewusel, winding streets rebenschwangeren up in the vineyards above the village. Who likes garnished his head with headphones and can be via tape loop useful information on local history and listen to bleat.

Marc remains ferment in the side streets and put-together with the jugs full-Federweißer säuerlichsüße swaths between the gable of the brain in velvety Dämmer dive, and the pores large swarms attract fruit flies. Vines hektoliterweise juice flowing. Anakreons disciples sanguinischer Laughter indulge in their passions: wine, women and song. Oily sausage with sauerkraut (Choucroute) and thick with cheese, sour cream and bacon browned Flammkuchen shine very heavy in their stomachs. Up the glass! Schenk Elsässischer wine ... again! Juhejuhe, the wine is here! The tons are filled; So let us be joyful and full of juhejuhejuuu Halse sign!

Before the big Schänke Wehrtor moves on the ground and from the amorphous volume formed a singing club volkstümelnder men, builds on and begins at weinseligem swings urdeutsche ways to bawl. If too mei'm Schätzel kommscht, I say let greet ... O valleys far heights o, o beautiful green Thuringian Forest ... girls ... Ah Kathrein alder, schnür you the shoe ... From the wine and spirit fired over their votes. The dauergewellte, halbbeglatzte audience hoots krummschiefen applause in a half-circle around the singers horde around. The black and silver dance in front of the cameras trembling bellies while their makers fettglitzernden their hands clapping with lots to blare intertwined. We are not in Rüdesheim in the (sellers) Drosselgasse, but the (wine) spirit is here an almost identical.

And yet: A few angles off the main streets can try, in which the delicate beauty of the villages on you can and no other tourist at the feet occurs, then in a wide Pfälzisch to complain, why is because of the way . Alsace, the picturesque beauty, the Zartwangige, Farbenfrohe with lush curves. The residents love her feet. Their hidden corners, the angle unerforschteren also enchanted me.

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