Sunday, July 11
Today was one of the more leisurely days of our trip. At grocery and sandwich shops in the metro station we grabbed a bottle of wine, some sandwiches and a bit of desert to serve as rations for our day of train travel. We arrived at the Berlin station with plenty of time for a quick email check via the ubiquitous Starbuck’s WiFi and then boarded the express for a six-plus hour ride to Strasbourg. European trains are wonderful and traveling by rail is much less stressful than by air.
Our four-star Berlin hotel was roomy, plush and nicely appointed, but little Hotel Monopole in Strasbourg is so much more the norm for our Euro travels. Our compact little room in a building from the 1800’s was just what we were looking for, including the free petite dejeuner.
Strasbourg is a very old city that prior to WW I was under German control and the architecture reflects its bi-cultural heritage. Almost every town has its “Notre Dame,” but the one here is simply amazing. Construction of the Cathedral of Notre-Dame, built on the foundation of an early Romanesque church began in 1015. The last major structure of the church, a Romanesque dome was finally completed in 1879.
Following a tour of the main town square and a walk down one of the canals, we picked a bistro for dinner. Through Denmark and Germany I think I consumed just about every form of sausage one can imagine, so tonight I opted for salade niçoise while Laurel went with the tart fromage flambé. After dinner, we headed off to a bar just down the street from our hotel to watch the end of the Spain vs. Nederlands in the world cup. The tiny establishment, in which earlier in the day we had been the only patrons, was now packed with a crowd of French, Spanish, Dutch and visitors that overflowed into the street. Everyone was glued to the bars single TV, as the game went into extra time. Sadly, the outcome was 1-0, Spain. We had such an incredible time with our new Dutch friends in Rotterdam’s Zuiderpark, we really hated to see them not take the big prize. However, the orange gang went farther than even most Hollanders thought possible and I suspect a hero’s welcome awaits them in Amsterdam.
Time to crawl into our fine French bed. Bonne nuit.
Note: Here we are in the home of Kronenbourg beer and I had not a single sip of that brand. It’s kind of like going to Milwaukee and not having a Miller.