A month has passed since we moved into the city, and for the most part, we are settled. Koos’s paintings are on the walls, I have baked cakes in my Kenwood, a casserole or 2 in my LeCreseut and the girls bedroom largely resembles the state we had it in at home in SA.
Somehow I still seem to be getting frustrated with buses, and if it wasn’t for the rain, bitter wind and almost sub zero temperatures, I might be persuaded to cycle the girls to school, or an even scarier concept, DRIVE them there…
But I am getting ahead of myself here. There is so much more to tell you about.
Rue Sellenick can be found slightly north-north-east of the Strasbourg ‘island’, the ‘island’ being the central area, closest to the Cathedral, within the city’s Ill River canals. The River Ill comes into the city near Petit France at the Barrage Vauban and Pont Couvert.
The ‘Barrage Vauban’ was a key point in protecting the city, and enabling the lower section of the city to be flooded (not sure why they would want to flood the city, but I’ve researched this, so I’m putting it in here! It could do with the fact that Petit France was the area set aside for the leprosy sufferers, and they figured a flooding would rid the city of flagrant disease.) Here, you can walk through and see the barrage in its 18th century glory, and the city has gated off ‘noekies’ where they house centuries old sculptures that are being stored from the Cathedral and other landmarks.
It is here that the Ill River splits into the canals that circumnavigate the center area of Strasbourg. The center of the city is landmarked by the Cathedral, which has been around since between the 11th and 15th century is the biggest tourist attraction to the city.
In an account of the lives of the Jews in Strasbourg, which dates back to the 14th century, they were forbidden to be within a specified area of the Cathedral after 22h00, after a city plague and subsequent massacre of city Jews. I am told that they ‘migrated’ to outlying villages, on the other side of Rue des Juifs, hence the suburb that has become the Quartier du Contades, (near the Synagogue de la Paix), which is where we have found our apartment to live.
Many of the buildings in the area have dates plastered into the entrances that are from the turn of the 19th century. They are mostly 4 stories high, and line the streets, blocking out most of the sun’s rays. My mind runs wild with stories of what the streets could have looked like once upon a time.
Nowadays they are filled with men dressed in dark coats and either wide brimmed hats or kippah. Some even have the little hair locks called payot adorning their ears. I have even seen the same woman on almost every trip to the bus who obviously is wearing a bad wig. (Either that or it’s a young boy hiding his immaturity…).
Stereotypes aside, it is a city street much like any other. Our building is flanked on either side by similar types. It has a double door entrance hall, made of iron that feels like it was forged under the iron of a blacksmith in the 1800’s, with old cracked dull marble on the walls, leading up 20 steps to the ‘ground’ floor. Our apartment is on this floor, directly above the ‘boiler room’. Our front door is red, and is so flimsy any strong man with a heavy shoulder and a small run up could punch through it, even though it has a double lock on it. We have a hall way that stretches almost the length of the apartment (which is only really 8.5meters long). It has real old wooden parquet flooring. There is a wall that separates the hall from the lounge/dining room and the girls bedrooms. This wall is a foot wide, and in total, the apartment is 12.5meters wide. The walls are 3.5 meters high, the window sills are wide enough for window boxes, and the windows themselves are the height of a length of my South African curtains. As every other French window, they are shuttered on the outside of the building. Curtains are generally an uncommon site here I have noticed. The French tend to maintain privacy and darkness through the shutters. Many a trip to and from the bus is undertaken under the sound of shutters being rolled open or pulled down, lights shining through the windows, scenes of domestic bliss playing out.
The #2 bus runs passed us on Boulevard Clemenceau, and it is here that we head to every morning, noon and early afternoon, direction Rue de Louvain, to Ecole Maternelle Vauban. Sometimes the bus comes too early, and we miss it, waiting for the next one, which inevitably arrives late, filled to capacity, with standing room only. I have become accustomed to not taking my handbag, as I end up carrying both the girls’ school bags and often one little girl as well. In the mornings this works well for me, as I drop the girls in the classrooms, spare a quick chat to a mom I am friendly with, plug the earpiece into my phone, launch my running app, and walk/run back along the beautiful Avenue de la Fôret Noire. The cold weather changes the scenery every day, but you can’t complain about much if your views resemble this:
I still spend a large part of my day going to and from school, as the girls come home for lunch. As I have mentioned previously, the French take a 2 hour lunch break, and while I have the opportunity to leave Alex and Beth at the cantine, they are not yet registered for it. I am going to have to register them soon, as the business of traipsing to and from buses in howling winter wind and rain (and lots of snow very soon) 3 times a day will have to come to a stop. Added to this, this routine seems to disrupt Beth quite a lot, and I am encountering daily temper tantrums from my little ‘force’. Once again, I am reminded what stay-at-home mum’s have to deal with, and how unequipped I am for this.
2 days of the school week have become very long days for both girls. The French schooling system has put in place the need for the teachers to provide extra schooling after hours for any specific needs. Although I would applaud this if my girls were older, and need to actually pass an exam, I do feel somewhat irritated that Alex is kept back twice a week until 17h15. At the same time, I understand that the extra time spent with Maîtresse Marie means that she will be subjected to more French, which is ultimately the best situation for the time being. It does mean it is a very long tiring day for her. We only reach home between 17h45 and 18h00, depending on the weather and how many snot nosed, rude teenagers flock to the bus route.
This week the sun will be setting around the 16h30 mark. It is just 19 days until the Winter Solstice (- my second for the year), and although the cold will only continue to get deeper, with more ice and salt on the roads, buses that are overheated and stink of either dog crap, fart, or stale beer, very soon the sun will be setting later, and rising earlier. There is not doom and gloom in the drab life of Europe.
Besides which, the famous Christkindelmarik opens on Friday for the month, so I am going to set up gluwein dates for every school morning of the week. There are 10 venues across the city, I endeavour to head to every single one, and do a tasting at each, and once those 10 are up, I will shortlist them, and go back to try some more. Don’t you wish you were me right now?
Of course, there is a host of amazing European Christmas traditions, which I am going to attempt to write to you about (as frequently as my dodgy dishwasher and bus schedule allow.).
Christkindelmarik will be up first, Europa Park for Anton’s work family Christmas event next weekend, Bredele day with Leire the weekend after… my own baking plans and Christmas preparations in between.
You see, with all this excitement, the days until the Winter Solstice will be filled up with lights and festive cheer, they days will speed by.
Stay close, and I shall try relating some stories.
Missing you, as usual,
Xxx
Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals 
very nice post Gaenor! enjoy the Xmas time in Strasbourg!