Originally Published September 3, 2025
We caught the early train from Colmar and rolled into Strasbourg around 8 a.m. Unlike our previous two visits during the magical Christmas markets, the city looked quite different this time—no festive stalls, no mulled wine, just quiet cobblestones and a cool gray morning that hinted at rain. By afternoon, though, the skies turned blue and the temperature climbed to 80 degrees.
With no plan in mind, we wandered straight into Petite France. Later, our guide Vincent explained the area’s curious name: in the 16th century, it housed a hospital for French soldiers returning from the Italian Wars, many of whom suffered from syphilis—then nicknamed the “French disease.” Today the neighborhood is all charm, with timbered houses and canals instead of convalescing soldiers. We strolled along the river taking photos, dodging the tour buses that hadn’t yet arrived.
At One City Tours, Vincent introduced us and a German couple to the art of riding Segways. Peggy and I were skeptical at first, wobbling like newborn foals, but after a few minutes we found our balance. Two ladies from Sydney joined the tour on rented bikes, and together our little caravan set off through the historic district. Vincent pointed out the old tanneries, slaughterhouses, and fishmongers, explaining how house colors once marked their trade. We even cruised past the Palais de l’Europe, home of the Council of Europe, which works to promote human rights and democracy across the continent. The tour ran long, but no one complained. My legs, however, were surprisingly sore—proof that Segways aren’t as effortless as they look.
Because of a scheduling snafu, we had to head back to Colmar earlier than planned to pick up our rental car. After days of being shuttled around by planes, trains, and even a private driver, it felt good knowing we’d finally be driving ourselves for the rest of the journey. But not before lunch: Peggy had fish and chips, while I tucked into an unusually delicious smashburger.
Leaving the restaurant, I realized I’d forgotten my little camera bag. We hustled back, and luckily a kind waitress had already set it behind the counter for me. Not the first time I’ve relied on the kindness of strangers when traveling. Back at the station, a misdirected board sent us scrambling toward the wrong train, which added a bit of bathroom-related drama for me. Fortunately, ticket scans caught the error, and we dashed to the correct platform—avoiding an unscheduled detour to Paris.
Strasbourg didn’t give us cathedrals or Christmas stalls this time, but it gave us Segways, history, bikes, a smashburger, and the keys to our own set of wheels for the road ahead. It felt like the real trip was only just beginning.
