Morning has broken. But Carmen fixed it by boiling me water, laying out my cup and spoon and fetching my first real baguette of the trip from the boulangerie. Well she says she boiled her water, layed out her cup and spoon and fetched her baguette, but since I ended up with the coffee, I’m pretty sure I know who’s right.
Anyway after a shower and breakfast of butter, baguette and jam, I washed dishes and went for a short walk. Very pretty here. When I got back Leslie called the base and told them about our bicycle. They said they’d be here in an hour with a replacement, so we will wait to start our trip to Saverne.
Still no wifi so I am posting using my 10 meg data roaming package. I will try and add images later when I find a connection.
So 2 hours later out replacement bike showed up and we cast off. 2 minutes later we ties up again because the lock was closed. Luckily the Dutch boat behind us had a lovely lady whose French was sufficient to intercom the VNCF and get the cycle restarted.
I let them pass and we fillers them through the next several locks. It’s beautiful countryside with lots of hills, trees and old forts perched atop them.
We slowly got into the groove and the locks were generally smooth. Eventually the Dutch couple got one lock ahead and we didn’t see her and her husband Du Maurier (at least that’s what Carmen called home due to his chain smoking) again until Saverne.
The last two locks of the day we followed an Aussie crew in another hire boat. It was supervised by a gentleman with bigger cock-swinging issues than Carmen’s brother Craig. Which of course set off Carmen’s typical defense to such issues and Leslie and I had to keep our heads down for a while lest we get clobbered by the ever increasing swings of testosterone-like egos. To her credit, he was a bit of a nosy dick.
The lock at Saverne is deep so it backed up quite a bit. Eventually we made it through into Saverne proper but the harbor was full. Around the corner there was a low bridge that we scraped our umbrella along, bending it a bit. Hopefully not too much to get our deposit back.
One more lock and we called it a day in a more industrial looking area. Carmen and Leslie unshipped the bikes and headed to find some groceries. I read and dozed for a bit.
Quite a time later the two saddest looking girls I have ever seen showed up and announced that there was no booze to be had on a Sunday after 6. Oh and no groceries as well. But no booze. No wine. No wine in the Alsace. No wine today at all. No. Wine.
After I dried my tears I invited the girls to prove it, so we hoofed it back into town. On the way around the marina we encounter a couple of guys singing the French Blues outside a pug. Apparently sensing our country roots they immediately swung into Country Roads as we walked by. The mountain mama line is killer with a French accent!
As we walked across the old quarter, we soon encounter our first church of the trip at exactly the right time to assuage our increasing despair. Honest to God ( no pun intended) I love old churches. They are such an awesome blend of humble human and all that humanity can be. The entrance and main tower were 12 century but it had been bombed in WWI. All the stained glass was newer and, as Carmen said, quite depressing rather than uplifting. The detail on the arches were also magnificent.
We settled on the Brasserie de L’ami Fritz. I had a Licorne Black, while they shared a pichet if Pinot Gris. Our waiter kept switching from French to german, which is incredibly disturbing since you think you’re an idiot because you can’t understand. I looked especially foolish when I wondered out loud why he correct himself from ya to yes… It seemed awfully formal. Leslie pointed out it was Ja not ya with hardly a smirk in her lips.
Eventually after a mediocre meal we wandered home still booze less and settled in to relax, blog and talk until lights out. Thankfully for my tender ears the dirty talk seemed to be done with the previous evening.