My World Heritage Site

For as long back as I can remember, I have always known that I am a Grade-A European-Mutt. Meaning my heritage is a hodge-podge of almost every European nationality (except Italian, which, incidentally, is one of the cultures I relate to most, and which my dad thought he was growing up). Based on my mom’s genealogy research, there were a few stand-outs…I can guarantee that I have ancestors from Germany, Ireland, the Azores (the small island chain off of Portugal) and Alsace-Lorraine (the small wine region between Germany and France). Last weekend, I completed my world heritage tour, with a trip to the Alsace region. (I visited the Azores with the family in 2002, Ireland in 2004 and again in 2007, and of course, have frequented Germany on numerous occasions).

Known for its white wines (primarily Riesling or Gewürztraminer), gastronomy, cute towns and Christmas Markets, it seemed like a perfect weekend get away. Calling on my favorite partner in crime Erin, we met up Saturday morning in Colmar for a weekend of enjoying the local specialties: eating and drinking in the cute villages…it was still too early to enjoy the Christmas Markets.

Considering our luck with traveling, and all of the problems we typically encounter (missed flights, no guidebooks, etc) I considered the weekend a HUGE success. We were able to locate our hotel without an issue or map, we accidentally timed the bus to Riquewihr (a cute village with more wineries than tourists) perfectly with 10 minutes to spare, we remained composed and in control during wine tasting all day (although it was white wine, which is not our favorite), we managed to catch an unexpected bus back to Colmar in time for a mid-day nap and the day of eating and drinking was wrapped up with an amazing 3-hour dinner of local cuisines such as the bakeaoffa (as spelled on the menu), the Alsace version of a meat and potato pot pie.

We wrapped up the weekend of local indulgences with, surprise, a big brunch, more wine tasting in Colmar, followed by more wine and food at the train station. And if the weekend was not enough, the smell of dinner that was left on my sweater lingered until I got back to Zurich that evening.