Tuesday, April 30 Sèlestat: Nana’s Hometown
I woke up knowing that this was my first day of “freedom” from classes and obligations. I vacillated between tromping around Strasbourg or going to Sèlestat. Finally, I figured that I could tromp around Selestat and see interesting things as much as in Strasbourg so off I went. I caught the 9:21 train and was stepping off in Sèlestat by 9:42.
Sèlestat is my grandmother’s hometown. It’s where she was born in 1904 and where she lived until she was 14. Then, the war was over, Alsace belonged to France, and she moved to Paris. She immigrated to the US in 1923. I’ve been to Sèlestat a few times but this was my first time alone so I had the time to put myself into Nana’s shoes and imagine her life. It was a bit difficult because things have obviously changed in the last 120 years but I managed a few fleeting moments of time travel. Here’s a look at Sèlestat and my adventures of the day.
Upon leaving the station, I followed a man with a bicycle and one with an electric scooter. I wondered how they would get up the stairs. While the scooter-guy carried his scooter, the bicycle guy used these clever rails to push his bike up the stairs. I seriously need this where I live on the third floor in Spokane.
I followed a walking path into Centre Ville and passed by the signature water tower. Although Sèlestat was established as a town in the 8th century, this tower was built in 1906. There are several other towers which were part of the town’s fortifications that date back to the 14th century and some of them are still in pretty good shape.
Before I got to the historic part of the town, I came upon a large market. YAY! I got lucky. I’ve been looking for a special kind of tablecloth that is pretty much water proof and washable and very nice. It appears that they are sold only at markets so I got lucky and bought two of them. I do hope I don’t have to leave clothes behind when I pack. I seem to be gathering quite a bit of stuff.
I found the entrance to the old town and continued on to the tourist office…
But wait….on my way there, I came across the Èglise Sainte Foy and the Ècole Sainte Foy next to it.
It was built in the 12th century. At one time it was a Benedictine Abbey and then it became a Jesuit community. The Jesuits spiffed it up in the manner of the times—Renaissance. The king, Louis XV, kicked the Jesuits out in 1765. After the Prussians took over Alsace in the late 19th century, it was restored. Most of the work done by the Jesuits were removed and it was returned to its original design—except for two towers that were added on. Whew! That’s the history.
This is the Church and School that my grandmother went to as a child. Yes! Really! I took a careful look so here you can look along with me. The entry way reminds you that this is a Catholic Church by showing the crucifix…
And the door is oh, so medieval.
The inside is gothic in design…notice the fancy schmancy pulpit. It is the only thing left over from the Jesuit renovations. It sort-of doesn’t fit.
I noticed something curious on the tiled floor. Throughout the church, I could see symbols of the astrological signs. Here’s one of them…
I didn’t think that the Catholic Church and astrology were compatible but one never knows how truth will change over time….
As I wandered, I found the stairs to the crypt and crept down them. Inside there was “le buste de la Belle inconnue.” It was discovered during archeological excavations in 1892. She is called “The Lady of Sainte-Foy.”
Of course, there was a tomb in the crypt. Duh!
After spending quite a bit of time channeling my grandmother and imagining her as a child in this church, I took one last stroll around the church and came upon a most surprising thing….
What, you ask, is this? It’s a commemoration of sorts to the church members who have passed on in the last year. I didn’t really dwell on this too much but one name stuck out ——
Kempf is my Grandmother’s maiden name!!!! Family? Gene Pool? Hmmm.
Here is one last photo of the church and school. I think I used pano on it because it looks a bit skewed but you get the idea.
By the time I left the church, I had to find une toilette and thus began an adventure. Here it is…. A self-cleaning little cabin.
I pushed the “open” button. Inside, I pushed the “close-door” button and a lovely woman’s voice responded but I didn’t understand. I pushed the button again BUT this time, I actually pushed the emergency “open-door” button instead of the “close-door” button. AARGH! The door opened. I thought I had to start all over, so I stepped out of the little cabin. An old man with a heavy Alsatian accent started telling me….something(?)… but I didn’t understand so while I was trying to figure out what he said, the door closed and the cabin started washing itself. AARGH! When it was finished, I again pushed the “open” button, stepped in, and while the old man watched and continued to coach(?) me, the door closed. WHEW!! I did my business. Then I noticed that there were two buttons for flush —high flush and low flush.
I figured that low flush would be sufficient so I pushed it and the lovely woman’s voice said something but I didn’t understand so I pushed the high flush button. The lovely woman spoke again and I just shrugged. I did figure out how to use the soap, water and dry station. I also figured out which button, besides the emergency button, opened the door. There was a man and a woman waiting outside. The man wanted to rush in to use the toilet but I realized that I had left my business unflushed in the toilet AND if he went in, he would be washed along with everything else. I tried to explain but —maybe he didn’t understand my French(?). His wife tried to explain this to him but he obviously had to go real bad and didn’t want to listen. Fortunately, the door was closed by the time he stepped forward to enter and we could hear the whir of the washing.
The man scowled at me. I just hoped that the toilet had flushed itself as I quickly walked away.
By this time, it was noon and I was hungry. After asking Google about restaurants, I went to the main road and checked out several of them. Good Lord!!! I didn’t want to spend €30 for lunch so I left the main drag and wandered. I was almost resigned to a sandwich at a boulangerie when I came across a lovely little organic restaurant serving seasonal food. A woman was sitting at a table next to the door. She mentioned that the food was very good, and, while pointing to the glass in front of her, told me that the wine was especially good. She invited me to sit with her.
I studied the menu, and asked about a couple of things…and decided to order Fleischnacke. I also ordered the same wine that the woman was drinking because she said over and over and over how good it was. O-K-A-Y!
Well, it really was good and different from any other wine I’d ever had. It was like drinking from a meadow of wildflowers. Amazing.
The food, too, was excellent and plentiful.
The woman’s French was fairly easy to understand but she didn’t say much about herself. If I asked a question, she would answer but didn’t seem much interested in my grandmother’s story. She was quite familiar with St. Martin, the tiny village where my grandfather is from and she even knew about the grotto on the path outside his village.
It was nice having this little culinary adventure. Oh, as I left, the woman ordered another glass of wine.
After lunch, I decided to find my great-great-grandmother’s house so with the help of Google, I took off and wandered the streets. Here are some photos along the way.
And Voila! the house could be seen…
I had arrived and I again channeled my grandmother to imagine her life with her grandmother.
By this time, I was tired out and decided to catch the train back to Sèlestat. I took the road, “Quai des Tanneurs” which was narrow and very traditional. I imagine this road must have had some serious reek back in the day. Tanning hides is a smelly and messy business. Here are some photos of that trek.…not a trace of reek.
I found my way to the main road and took some photos along the way. I don’t know who these men are but the murals are nice. In general, there aren’t too many murals in Alsace.
I came upon this memorial statue which is similar to the one at the Place de la Rèpublique in Strasbourg. It shows the division of Alsace throughout the ages. It’s the one with a mother holding two sons. One is looking toward Germany and the other toward France.
I finally came upon the tower and got to the train in plenty of time.
This one final photo shows a map of Sèlestat. I’ve marked the church/school and gr-gr-g’ma’s house. I’m hoping that family members who read this will reflect on the story of our Nana’s life.
