O my goodness, she's a goddess!

"O my goodness, she's a goddess", said Alejandro of Mexico as an attractive French woman passed. We stopped in at the Cafe Michel for early morning cappuccino, croissant, carrot juice, and since our dorm internet woes continued, the free wi-fi.

Ale was right. French women are beautiful. A hasty generalization? Perhaps. But if you had seen the copious amounts of gazelles filling the streets of downtown Strasbourg you'd understand. They all have a unique sense of fashion, so perhaps the clothes are making la femme? Maybe they're just that gorgeous? Je ne sais pa.

Something is making somebody.

We trek from Cafe Michel deep into the heart of downtown Strasbourg, with me as the tour guide. Which means we had no idea where we were going. Things turned from vaguely familiar to unknown as fast as the street signs switch between German and French. But with the sun massaging the stoned street, and aromas of pastry shops filling alley ways, one doesn't need to know where they're going to get to where they need to be.

Our hearts took us into Petit France, which is a historical region of the city. It was created as a quarenteened zone for French soldier's who'd contracted diseases during wartime during one of Strasbourg's several German occupations. Without a cure it was the best way to keep population safe.

There was a most calming experience in Petit France. There's something pleasantly lingering about being in and around structures that have existed for hundreds and sometimes over a thousand years. Which is what made our approach of the towers at the Ponts Couverts river so special.

I knew about the Strasbourg program a year ago. I would look at the pictures of the towers and wonder what it was like to stand in front of them. I wasn't able to go, but the picture still resonated in my memory.


My eyes slightly watered as I took a fulfilling photo. Not enough for Ale to see, but enough for me to feel what I needed to feel.



Our trek was now reaching it's forth hour and we have no idea where we are. But whenever I feel lost I just walk until I see the Grand Cathedrale's steeple extending into the sky. With the cross I am never lost. Neither are African street peddlers.

"Hey brotha. Would you like a watch?"

"No...no I wouldn't."

I already bought a ridiculous big faced watch with fake diamonds and the Eiffel Tower, and there was no way this African would get 45 euro from me. It took arguing in English, French, Spanish and Portuguese before he finally got the picture, that we were not interested in his Santa Maria bracelets.

The plaza in front of the Cathedrale is filled and we would go for a tour, but we have a tour with the university's program scheduled to start in an hour. The odds of us visiting every single sight we saw today is a certainty.