Memories of a trip to Alsace (IV)

In the fog rest (still) a world-wide today until about midday. The weather gives popularitätsmüden sights a little rest and hide their faces behind cold, blickdichter cotton. We hide ourselves in turn, initially before the fog in the crisp warm caravans. The East Frisian aufgebrühte freshly steamed good mood from the colorful mugs sparkled. It smells of cheese, jam, fresh bread and roasted salted butter. Only very slow and relaxed the day we arrive. And where such turbid soup surrounds us, but nothing dunned to hurry. We have time. And finally, we calculated the mountains durchkurven today, and let the view of the pass heights, hills and road summits, where the panoramic view, but so far only 50 meters. So again nochschenken, wait, tea drinking. Probably, the sun, the cold, blassfahle Geschwappe verrieseln so soon. All too hastily, it is so but apparently not, and so we have to break into the thicket look and go.

Before louder secrecy hides quietly snickering at the edge of the road - also Zellenberg the village, which I particularly like beschmunzelt, since its turrets and houses as a furry cap pulled on the crest of a hill, the more likely a wooden soup bowl resembles. His feet curl also Fecht almost silently through the white soup-Little River, the fertile valley and soaked in many places so narrow that you could throw over a dog, if you let it go and you would have wanted.

First, we are humming in the next largest city, after Colmar. Picturesque corners and facades, wood Pigs Restaurant in shop windows, Chan Sons of Charles Trenet, umglasten green from the air ducts of the parking garage under the Place Rapp their way upward surge, the Issenheimer altar at the Musée Unterlinden, bread bins, in which bread for the world to be collected, but are crowded with Coke cans, and tilting Döner-Alufolie boxes, a Maghrebinian hip, which is considered the possibility that he actually times I take away my camera could and frustrated and anathematizing hastened moves, as he realizes that I am strangely enough, on the other hand, and my property claim powerful maintains.

Bridging the divide, the mist their fluffy hat and the sun over the baton. The ours, we take for a cafe crčme for unknown reasons in the famous "Leffe" to us on the way back from the steep Gehügel the Vosges to wriggle. Warnings congestion on the route National, coupled with the re-blossoming knowledge, a German jam in France in spirit, a "plug" or "cap".

Nearly 150 small horses are under the hood of our Land Rovers roaring imprisoned. They whinny, and resent röhren, while the black vehicle between the steep rock falls and waldüberwucherten slopes uphill drive. While we look at the serpentines hinaufschrauben, overtakes my stomach with each new curve a kribbeliges Whiplash and the realization that I am quite in contrast to the enthusiastic exploring female curves and curves, in their immediate vicinity, I like to live, and loving me-Gama'a amid the Steingebirgskurven on a gradual but continuous rotary vertigo attacks, which the brain after some time in Dämmer heavily promoted.

Regularly the nose to keep shut and the pressure balance, not just read and write. Vertigo, and I had never, but once I too long and fast turn in circles, and I totally schalou cack. Especially when one goes in the valley, obscures the mountains to shameless way to look to the horizon and ensure that airline routes of a half kilometers in revolving worm rides from the 15 km lead.

Who at the top of the pass, or in one of the slope gekrallten huts high above the lively bubbling Valley resident, should see to it that his shopping list and not forgetting everything clean ticked when he down to the village to go shopping. But in the Panorama silbrigsanft glittering autumn light on the pass compensates for much, and after some time and a lot of fresh air, also sneaks back into the spiral Schwindelschwirren in my brain coils.


In the evening the sun crawls back behind the mountain slopes to be put to sleep. Ghostly pale haze thickened to re-mist, floats from the meadows and Hrimfaxe and swallowed the world among themselves. We climb back into the warm cozy home, at the stove crackles and bubbles up there with formidablem dinner begins the coziest part of the day relaxing before the darkness of night and the severity of the eyelids us in the direction of reduced dream.