It's the home of cranes (the feathered variety), the place where La Marseillaise was composed; it's where you can see members of the French Foreign Legion out on a training run, and where the most succulent tarte flambee is served. Strasbourg, capital of Alsace, lies due east of Paris. Two miles further east is the Rhine and the German border. Once squabbled over, it was reunited with France by Napoleon. One of its surviving German legacies is the fact that the Germans still spell it "Strassbourg".
Strasbourg means city of the roads, and a quick look at the train departures bears that out. From here, you can travel to Copenhagen, Madrid, Algerciras, Vienna and Budapest. However, if you're really enterprising, you'll buy a Strasbourg Pass at the station tourist office. For 58 francs, this gives you concession-entry to various galleries and museums, as well as a day's hire of a bike.
I pedalled off on a warm Sunday morning in March for the 10-minute spin to the historic La Petite France quarter, the walls of its gabled houses - of every size and colour - reflected in the waters of the Ill, a tributary of the Rhine. The river and its system of locks used to bring river traffic right up to the doors of the 14th-century tanneries, mills and fish stores crowded into this small space. Cars are banned from La Petite France, which makes it pleasant both to walk and cycle in but, fortified by a croissant and a chocolat-cognac, I was off again along the river by 10 a.m., just as the first tour groups were arriving.
The bike isn't the only way of getting round. Strasbourg has its nifty little navette electrique (an electric shuttle bus) as well as its smart, new tram (they're still laying the lines in some parts of the city) that looks like a mini Eurostar. I rode a few stops on it, minimum fare seven francs, and if Luas turned out anything like it, I wouldn't complain.
Strasbourg's piece de resistance, however, has got to be its 12th-century cathedral. I visited it five times, on various days, the changing light giving it a different aspect on each occasion. Lit by the early morning sun, its rose-coloured sandstone casts a celestial glow over the nearby narrow Rue des Juifs that curves away out of sight, its 16th century townhouses dwarfed by the great edifice. Standing inside, in the aisle, I had to wonder what the average medieval churchgoer made of the pomp and ceremony taking place at an altar that was so high and far removed from the crowd that it must have seemed like another world.
Every day, at 11.45 am, the huge cathedral doors close and the only way to get in is to buy a five-franc ticket (children go in free) from a tiny window in the south wall. This lets you view one of Strasbourg's marvels: the towering astronomical clock, a Renaissance work of art conceived in 1352 but rebuilt and renovated many times since. Its mechanical parts show the paths of the sun and the moon, the months, the days of the week and, of course, the time. A bit like a religious carousel, the four quarter-hours are marked by the appearance of one of the four ages of man; the 12 apostles have a walk-on part, and Christ is seen tirelessly raising his hand in blessing. But it is Death himself, appearing as a skeleton, whose scythe strikes each passing hour, while high up on the casing that houses the weights and chain, a gold, blue and red metal cockerel flaps his wings and crows three times. If you like a show, this is the one to see, though not if you're worried about your mortality.
Twenty minutes away from the cathedral, going towards the buildings which house the Council of Europe, the European Court of Human Rights and - for one week in four - the EU Parliament, you'll come to the spacious and elegant Orangerie, a park built around a house for the Empress Josephine. When I was there the cranes were industriously building their nests for the coming spring, in the safety of the crane sanctuary. (The more eccentric ones choose the tops of lamp-posts and chimney pots to roost on) And though it's terrible to see the remains of huge ancient oaks brought down by the big wind last St Stephen's Day, the Orangerie is a perfect place to walk in and great for children. It's also got a Michelin-starred restaurant.
Further afield, if you have the time and a car, you can take a gentle afternoon's drive along La Route des Vins, zig-zagging up and down the vineyards that lie at the foothills of the Vosges, ending - if the wine-tasting does not hinder your progress - at the town of Colmar, birthplace of Frederic Bartholdi, sculptor of the Statue of Liberty. In the museum there, you'll see the extraordinary and enormous Issenheim altarpiece, executed in 1512 by Matthias Grunewald, one of the truly great masters of religious painting. But be warned, museums close at 5 p.m. and most are closed every Monday. And another word of warning: although Strasbourg has thoughtfully provided the odd caniste (doggy loo), they aren't always used. But if you do happen to step in some, the local expression "merde!" may come in handy.