We edge a smidge further north today, to Riquewihr, yet another picture postcard pretty Les Plus Beaux Village.
Our path is lined with endlessly perfect rows of vine plantings. Their meticulous lines are deeply pleasing to those of us who get twitchy when paintings are hung askew (me, boys and girls, that would be me…).
It’s Bastille Day and although we’ve left Egiusheim’s festival behind, its party atmosphere follows us. Enroute in Bennwihr, it’s a triple celebration – there’s an antique car show in the main street and it’s also the anniversary of the village’s WWII liberation by American troops.
Both French and American flags fly proudly. One thing about the French, they remember and they honour. We see displays of how the village looked after war’s destruction, set next to key landmarks which are now rebuilt.
The antique cars draw us back to happier days. Cearly a labour of love for their owners, they’re in superb condition.
I love this baby blue early Renault with luggage jauntily perched on top – I have the perfect outfit for that holiday drive, if only they’d let me borrow the keys…
Also fascinating are the early wooden hybrids – there’s even one with a matching wooden trailer. The vehicles’ carpentery workmanship is an elegant reimagining of the horse and cart that preceded them.
Himself meanwhile falls for this green MG TF. It’s not even part of the show, someone has just driven it here and parked in a side street. 😂 He’s quite pea green with envy, as Miss Scarlett would say. Ah well, no-one can have all the toys!
Back on our day’s focus, Riquewihr isn’t far, only 16 kilometres on from Egiusheim. Referred to as the ‘pearl of Alsace’ it’s easy to see why. Unlike its circular counterparts, the village is set out along a steep main street with houses soaring on both sides. They’re grand, with colourful half timbered frontages, exuberantly overflowing flower boxes, central courtyards and painted ceilings. We have to believe our guidebook on the latter, but we do catch a glimpse of a private courtyard, complete with deer sculpture (below).
It’s incredibly picturesque and bustles with the hum of visitors, restaurants, bars and shops.
An enormous half timbered bell tower sits at the top of the main street, behind which are the remnants of the original fortified walls and drawbridge. Unwanted visitors would have a hard time getting through that enormous handspan width door, even if they managed to get through the moat, fortification wall and drawbridge.
We meander for a while, taking it all in. I find a glorious Christmas shop set over three levels with every type of exquisitely crafted decoration imaginable. Sadly no pictures allowed inside. Meanwhile, I pick up a few very delicate pieces to nurture on the journey home.
We eventually stop for a well earned drink. I spot a Foret Noire on the menu. Could it be? I’ve been gently nagging Himself to take me over the border to Schwarzwald for my favourite Black Forest cake. Don’t judge me, it’s a lifelong favourite. Here it is though, saving him the trip. Light as a feather with the sharp tang of sour cherries and Kirsch – I’m in heaven.
Eventually though, it’s time to call it a day. We’ve wandered far and wide, so much so that I snapped a sandal strap in the process. Himself kindly rescued me, walking back patiently for a replacement pair. And not a shoe store in sight!
And speaking of shoes…I have Strasbourg in my sights tomorrow, where I may have located the shoes that escaped my clutches in Dijon. They won’t get away this time. I’m on a mission. 😉
Miss Baci Travels 