Colmar – Fake European City?

Have you ever imagined yourself to be a character in the fairytale? Alice in Wonderland or Cinderella? Having ideal coffeeshops, colorful streets, best Instagramable meals on the table, decorated boutiques and nicely dressed girls walking the streets offering you to try the candies? It is easy to achieve once you end up in Colmar.

I spent in the city four hours but was so impressed by the.. fake! Exactly! This city is so over beautiful, extremely clean, extremely commercial. Seems like once you drop a piece of paper, a magical butterfly will pick it up. Seems like all cute girls have had rehearsals when and how to ride their bikes with baskets of sunflowers. Seems like all baristas know how to smile to make you buy three coconut frappé instead of one small cappuccino.

The city speaks all possible languages.

Asians are the biggest target group for the local restaurants – being impressed by the small bridges and tiny balconies, they are willing to invest money into the economy of Colmar. You will barely find a local – “born and raised in Colmar” hardly exists. Everything is on Airbnb, B&B, or turned into the small hostel.

However, I have to pay tribute to the city for making it so magical and beautiful for the foreigners. Colmar was able to make every street a spellbinding corner with some mysteries behind the doors. Colmar was able to bring all the world to one miniature place and make them feel that highly advertised “European old village”, try local cheese and ham. Overpriced. But you gotta pay for all this effort and years of rehearsals.

I am for the real feelings and emotions. I am for the mess, chaos, scooters rushing by you, the smell of pizza next to Dior or ducks in the ponds. I am for street hipster musicians, hidden jazz bars, spontaneous pina colada in the latin bars, and kids building castles out of the sand, and strangers inviting girls for a dance. I am for the secrets shared only among locals, I am for old terraces with lush grapes, sunsets on the roofs with the forbidden access and the smell of morning brewed coffee from the neighbor’s window. I am for the real. Without decorations, without clean doors and without selfie-sticks.

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