In my humblest opinion, it’s quite easy to feel as if you’ve stepped into French territory here at Colmar Tropicale. But then again, I’ve not traveled throughout France yet to know enough. I remember an old friend of mine, who spent half of his life traveling the world, telling me that it’s a poor man’s version of the actual Alsatian town. I’d love to visit the outskirts of the Latin country but till day that happens, I know I will always have this French village in my native.
But you see, when I first came here as a teenager with my family, the village itself was an exciting place filled with sprightly goings-on. There were sweet performances by Incan musicians, a barrage of clowns and acrobats, elaborate fireworks— the cobbled-street was carnivalesque around the clock. The hotel room we stayed in had the loveliest French décor (with my favorite four-poster bed) and I spent that evening laughing to Charmant Garcon with my sister.
Now that more than a decade has passed, the place has sort of lost its jovialness. When I walked down the same cobbled-street with my friends last week, everything was pretty much quiet. We heard that they’d usually run a small market here selling organic goods but there was none to be found. We were there during midweek, which I suppose could possibly be more laidback compared to the weekends.
Nevertheless, we had a nice stroll around the village in that chilly weather. We marveled at the medieval-inspired architecture and spent time taking photographs at different corners. Some of us went all the way to the watchtower to have a grand view of the rolling hills. We also took a break at La Boulangerie, known primarily for their sweet nothings. We took huge bites of their colossal-sized red velvet cookies, which never ceased to amaze us. They were almost too good. I’ve never really been a fan of red velvet but this one won me over instantly. Furthermore, I never knew red velvet existed in the form of cookies (and giant ones, in fact).
Then, as the sun grew stronger, we had ice cream. Lots of ice cream. It took us no less than half-an-hour to cover every nook and cranny of Colmar. Once the cones were gone, we bid goodbye to village and took off to our hotel for some bowling, futsal, charades and a nice girls-night in (read: talking like teenagers, discussing the importance of celebrity crushes, babies and matchmaking the single among us).
