Colmar is a beautifully-preserved market town in Alsace in the floodpath of the Rhine. A gate through the lower story of a medieval customs house opens onto squares and cobbled lanes lined with huge boxy 14thand 15th-century half-timbered houses with shutters and balconies and turrets. The facades are painted cheerful Easter egg colors—sky blue, salmon, mint, mustard, pumpkin. The entire town had turned out for a street fair today, and the windows were decked with flowers and bunnies and garlands.
But…
…Everywhere, these houses stand shoulder-to-shoulder in closed ranks. It wasn’t until I branched off from my tour group to wander the back lanes that I found a place where a creek cuts between the houses, forcing a gap. It was the first and only glimpse I got of the back of one of these medieval houses. It was a rotting corpse—sagging, splotched with mold, the timbers and plaster faded to exactly the same streaky grey-brown. The creek had gnawed the plaster away from crumbling stone foundations. It was a rare, jarring look at what a medieval house genuinely looks like behind the facelift. I think it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my life.
