One of my two dream vacations occurred in the summer of 1972, when I went driving through France, Germany, Luxembourg, and Switzerland with an American friend and his French-born wife. However stand-offish you may think the French are, when you get invitated into their homes, it's a whole different story. If you are at the table, you are family.
Fond memories of sending the Alsatians into gales of laghter to hear a foreigner try to speak Alsatian. Gee, I still can say, "Noch a betzala Brot, venn's bliapt." (Another slice of bread, please.) That was a real ice-breaker, let me tell you.
Because the male of the couple was a medievalist, we stopped at two castles per day, minimum. Stayed in a quaint Swiss inn in a village where everyone, toddlers included, spoke both French and German fluently. Hit Baune for the wine festival. And I did all the driving, being the only one with a license.
Back then, every other car sported a "Europe Uni" bumper sticker--and now it is a reality. Who woulda thunk?