I hoisted my bulky suitcase, now a backpack, onto my shoulders and crossed the threshold into Strasbourg’s morning, subdued by fog. Around me, the sidewalks were empty, the only noise coming from my footsteps and the occasional creaks of the buckles and straps as the weight shifted with my stride.
Quietly I padded through the misty streets on my way to the train station and contemplated what I was doing. I’m a mid-gen X’er, with over fifty years in the rearview mirror, and I’m one-bag traveling through Europe.
I considered people my age who aren’t so fortunate, and who can no longer do such things. I smiled wryly. There are easier ways to get to the train station, such as a tram or cab, but I rather enjoy the solitude of the walk, and the burden I carry isn’t excessive. I like doing this and being able to do it. I want to keep doing it as much as I can for as long as I can.
The train ride to Colmar was quick, in the same nauseous yellow car that brought me here. At my destination the walk to the hotel was longer than I had expected. I didn’t mind because the weather was comfortably cool and my path was easy, following a long, tree-lined street with large residences on either side.
I chose my hotel so I would have access to a gym, but that meant it’s outside of the center of town, a compromise I was comfortable with.
After checking in early, I headed first to La Petite Venise, or Little Venice, so named for the buildings that embrace the River Lauch closely on either side. It was only five minutes away.
I always anticipate exploring local markets, so didn’t linger there for very long. Instead I found my way to the town’s intimate covered market where I purchased a ham and cheese baguette, which I ate as I walked, continuing on my way into the center of town.
It was well into early afternoon, after the fog had long since departed, but the sky was still mostly grey and I decided to stop for some coffee and a pastry. The pace here is slow, and I reasoned I should similarly take my time.
As I left the shop I felt the faintest sway in my steps, as though my balance was off, but I didn’t think much of it.
By the time I’d paid my entrance to the Unterlinden Museum I could feel myself lurching.
The museum is one of the highlights here in town, with the star being the Isenheim Altarpiece. I reached that display quickly and was happy to find that they had seating, because standing was beginning to feel precarious.
My hands were cold.
I checked myself – was I at risk for falling? Is this what happened in Italy when I passed out and spent a night in the emergency room with a split lip, a broken tooth, and a concussion? French healthcare is reputed to be excellent, but I really didn’t want to see the inside of a French hospital. I decided the symptoms weren’t the same, as I wasn’t feeling nauseated in the same way. I thought that maybe I was dehydrated – I haven’t been drinking as much water as usual, and tried to continue on.
Two rooms later I decided it would be best to go to the museum cafe where I could sit, hydrate, and gather myself.
And there I felt something new, another symptom – a dull ache in my head.
Ah yes, my vestibular migraines. I’ve never been formally diagnosed but they happen occasionally – every few years. Usually, when I have a headache, it’s benign and distracting, even tiring. But sometimes they are dizzying, and on two occasions they have been vertiginous, with the world abruptly turning upside down in my vision. In those moments I’ve had to grab onto something solid for stability.
I didn’t want to experience that next to a work of art.
There was only one solution: I knew I needed medication and sleep.
My steps reeling and my mind as hazy as the morning had been, I hurried back to my hotel, wishing it was closer. My toe caught occasionally on the uneven cobblestones, and I felt both drunk and hungover at the same time. Could others see the instability in my gait? Was I listing perceptibly?
At my hotel I bent to remove my socks and swooned. I took two Excedrin and climbed into the bed, where I slept soundly for three hours.
When I awoke I felt better. Not quite normal, but better. Hungry.
The walk to dinner was safer, with only an occasional moment of dizziness.
After dinner, fog had begun to settle back in, enshrouding this small muffled town.
And I returned to my hotel for more sleep.
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