To some people, buying a train ticket to a place you’ve never been in a place you’ve never been, with no idea where you’ll be staying that night or even if you’ll take that train all the way to your destination would seem like an exercise in stupidity. To me it’s an adventure. Thankfully Fiona agrees, or if she doesn’t exactly agree, at least she plays along well.

Thus far as train hopping Euro-tourists go, we’d been pretty lucky. We’d managed to find every connecting train, and in every city, we also managed to find accommodations fairly easily wherever we went. Strasbourg would put that luck to the test. We knew we’d have to change trains somewhere, but exactly where that change needed to occur was somewhat of a mystery. We wandered the train station trying to figure out what exactly we needed to do. Finally it was obvious that one of us had to break down and ask for directions, lest we end up in Butfhartenzein.

Once in a while, asking for help is OK. Even I realize the idea of being on an adventure can only be pushed so far.

Fumbling our way through the train station in Bern, we finally found our connection, one that I was very excited about. We’d booked ourselves on the TGV – a 200 MPH bullet train that would make short work of the distance between Bern and Strasbourg.

Our peaceful relaxation as we zipped through the countryside was interrupted at the border. Four angry looking border guards wearing red armbands burst into our car, and immediately started hassling a black man that was dozing quietly. The guards patted the man down, removed his wallet, counted his money and completely ransacked his personal belongings. Fiona and exchanged nervous glances, wondering if we were next for this treatment, but when the guards were done hassling the poor man, they walked right by us, not even so much as checking our passports.

Welcome to France.

Out of the train station we walked over to the first hotel we saw. They offered a room with both a toilet and a shower (!) for a reasonable price. Sorted with a place to sleep, we wandered into Strasbourg to enjoy the town. First stop? A Russian pub for a few frosty Kronenbourgs.

From there we wandered through the German inspired architecture of the picturesque town, all the way to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame-de-Strasbourg, a very impressive church that towers menacingly over all of Strasbourg.

The Cathedral also houses an incredible astronomical clock, similar to the more famous one in Prague. This clock, built in 1843, shows not only the time and date, but the position of the sun and moon. According to the guidebook, this clock contains probably the first perpetual mechanical Gregorian computus, whatever that may be.

Right after snapping this picture, someone turned out the lights, indicating it was time to go and find some dinner. Fiona and I walked into a nearby Italian restaurant, and were faced with a problem we hadn’t encountered thus far on the entire trip. None of the waiters spoke English, so we had a chance to practice our French. Full disclosure – though my nickname is Frenchy, and though my father is in fact a French teacher, the only sentence I know in French is, “Le cheval est sur la table” which, loosely translated means: ‘The horse is on the table.”

Sleeping Beauty decided to try her hand at ordering a glass of wine, asking the French speaking waiter for a glass of ‘vino… umm… white?’ After an odd look, and an amusing mime routine, she eventually got what she asked for. Fortunately no horses ever appeared sur la table. Dinner was good, though we had no idea what we’d ordered.

After a spirited game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, we decided that with only two more full days until we had to return to mundane reality, we’d leave Strasbourg early the next morning to enjoy a night in the most romantic city on Earth – Paris.