Carbon Copy

There are many positives and negatives associated with social media but in terms of helping the less memory-savvy of us recall our past activities, it certainly has merit. It was only due to a friendly Facebook reminder last Friday morning that Tim realised five years ago to the day, on a business trip to Switzerland, he had made precisely the same getaway on which we were about to embark. The primary difference between the two trips – other than the ankle biters and trouble-and-strife coming with him, of course – was that the first one allowed him to witness (via dodgy internet in a shady hotel room at an unsocial hour) his beloved Sydney Swans triumphantly winning the grand final, whereas this weekend…well, not so much.

We’d done the trip to Colmar in the Alsace region of France before the boy had arrived, but we’d always felt that there was plenty more to explore (cough wines to drink). So when some friends from home – an ex-colleague of mine and her lovely family – were making a pit stop there on their holiday, we shamelessly crashed their party. As did the Autumn leaves, which were popping up everywhere we turned.

After a catch up dinner when we arrived late Friday night (Adelaide speaking in hushed tones about being allowed to stay up late, see the moon and eat some ice cream at a restaurant) we decided to explore the small town on a mini tourismo train the following morning. There was a pre-programmed audio tour available in multiple languages, however all I learned was that two year olds prefer the iPad to local history, nine month old daddy doppelgängers think the headphone jack is a toy purely for their oral amusement, fruit pouches make lovely leg accessories when inexpertly squeezed by both children, and Colmar sure is a real purdy ol’ town.

We reunited with the Family Grozdanovski for that staple of travelling with kids: park time. Slippery dips for our monkey, a football slash basketball hybrid for theirs.

Because Motsy is clearly a creature of habit the next stop on our tried and true agenda was Riquewihr, a walled town about half an hour away. We shuttled our way there through vineyards with burnished leaves, anticipating the Alsatian bounty awaiting us.

We did not, however, anticipate our companion at lunch: angry Nicole Kidman.Colmar -098We enjoyed a delicious feast (complete with kidneys bravely ordered and consumed by Liam) and caught up on gossip, travel tales and the pressing issue of Nicole’s anger, and whether her companion was in fact a semi-Dame-Edna-ed Barry Humphries.

The short drive back to Colmar was made even more spectacular by the incoming storm (although possibly not so much for those waiting back in Riquewihr who were caught in the rain), the light bouncing off nearby hills and villages in manner spectacular.

Ever the photography enthusiast, Tim paused for numerous ‘ain’t this pretty’ breaks on the way home, forcing Bailey to get in on the snappy action (Tim’s enthusiasm rarely takes any prisoners). Bailey caught both the leaves and our little bear perfectly.

Despite this being Tim’s third iteration of this particular itinerary, we left Colmar the following day (detouring past the toy museum to indulge our girl’s love of baby dolls and her mama’s unexpected love of train sets) fully anticipating that we’ll return, despite all the other lovely places to visit. It’s sweet, close, super tasty – and besides, we’ve been left with so many unanswered questions. Why is Our Nic so angry? Who is her Barry Humphries-esque companion? How did she even wind up in the Alsace? Such mysteries can only be solved with Colmar dedication (and Crémant).

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