She said services would be in two hours, so we exchanged email addresses, I took a few photos of the church (she said the paintings there were originals from 1304), ran down the ice/snow-covered road to my car, and shot off for France. France was 8 kilometers from Dörrenbach. There were no checkpoints at the border, just a sign that said 'France'. How dramatically awe-inspiring.
Lovely--after a few hundred meters I began to wonder, am I in France already? I was driving through a lovely little French town named Weissenborg, which probably had something to do with wine (or Weiss, my ancestors--the word meaning 'white' in translation).
This was the Alsace region of France, still with some German sounding names. I drove 16 kilometers, jumped out of the car, wandered through a grocery store, said,"Woo hoo! I'm in France!" and then headed back to Dörrenbach, in Germany.
I got there too early and walked into the rehearsal for the children's mass. I was politely asked to leave. So here I was again, freezing to death in Dorrenbach, still with my cold, but I noticed some things. There was a display outside one of the stores with all the wines and alcoholic beverages made in Dorrenbach. Dorrenbach was founded in 992AD--for those weak on math, made it 1008 years old, or, as my mother would say--Its real old.
The clouds rolled in, and snow started pounding the little hillside village. The church was full--packed with Germans who had a slight scent of alcohol.