Some rare trips seem more like a homecoming than a vacation . . . this is one of them. It's been five long years since our last time in France's beautiful Alsace. The absence was not by choice, but sadly politically oriented.

We'd first discovered this jewel of a place along France's Route de Vin 18 years ago when one sentence in a Fodor's guidebook (one, incidentally, for whom I'd written many guidebooks) lured us up there with the promise it offered a panoramic view unequalled in that entire country.

Actually heading for the previously visited picture-postcard walled mediaeval village of Riquewihr, we were totally distracted by this new discovery. And so began a long, sublime odyssey lasting 13 years.

That first night, very impressed, we'd asked if a room was available . . . and returned to the front desk daily, extending it for two or three nights at a time until we'd been there for ten altogether.

It meant shuttling to several different rooms, as space is tight at the height of France's tourist season, but Christine Parmentier, the super-efficient power behind the director, managed it wonderfully. She would carefully study the reservation lists until she found space somewhere.

And so it continued. Just before departure, a three-week reservation would be made for the following year. We joyously explored every historic village within miles, hauled home wondrous military treasures for our collection discovered at local marchés aux puces and brocantes (flea markets and antique markets) and thought it was a pattern set for life.

Because we don't speak Alsatian and my high German didn't seem to always connect, the very personable, always helpful Christine became our lifeline and translator.

We came armed with gifts, appreciative of staff efforts in the dining room, housekeeping, and so on to be helpful.

There was even a $100 donation on arrival and departure to help pay for the dazzling illumination of this dramatic mountain top site, so eye-stopping observed from the valley far below.

Then came a new director whom we never actually met. It was soon after the surprise victory vote in Alsace for Jean Marie Le Pen, Facist candidate for President against Jacques Chirac. Although he didn't do well in other places in France, the property's brand-new director apparently agreed with Le Pen's anti-outsider attitude.

After pulling our car in the fortified entrance gate of this very historic property to load up the night before departure, a voice started yelling and quite literally raving at us unseen in Alsatian.

Finally, we went into the office where staff were in tears and asked: "Is that person telling us North Americans are no longer welcome here?"

Between tears, the answer was yes, "he doesn't want outsiders here not even Parisians".

And so instead of taking our big trunk up to the cavernous attic as usual, we loaded it in the car. The hammock, chaise longue, picnic chairs and assorted essentials saved year to year would go home permanently.

We didn't stop going to France, a country this traveller has visited as often as three times a year, but explored many coastal ports cruising on the Wind Surf, drove up into the Haute Alpes, along the French-Italian border, lesser-known hill villages far above the Riveria, and always felt welcome.

But this spring we were nostalgically homesick for the beauty and charm of Alsace.

"He's gone, he's gone," exclaimed an excited employee when we talked by phone in early March. "Please come back, we miss you."

And so the very day we made plane reservations that would take us on our Alaska cruise, we also made them to take us back to France.

So here we were, soon falling into our old habits. Our days started with a relaxing sameness a breakfast buffet enjoyed on their new teak-furnished broad terrace overlooking mountains of the Vosges. Stretching far as the eye could see were forest-covered landscapes rather like the misty shadows of a Japanese painting, as one ridge of slopes eased down to another. No sign of civilisation or man's encroachment was in sight, except for a few distant romantic ruins of 12th-century castles and a forester's caretaker home barely visible on a far slope.

Curiously, we were the only ones taking advantage of this grand sight on this gorgeous terrace with its centuries old lime trees . . . everyone else was inside clustered close to the buffet.

But immediately we were swept up in a chorus of welcoming "bonjours", as familiar faces of guests from all those years come smiling over to shake hands and express their enthusiasm at our return. Amazing how so many of the same people we recognised.

Then it was down the mountain 14 kilometres via a steep, very beautiful winding, wooded route to Obernai for our daily visit to the shop where a limited supply of the International Herald Tribune, Financial Times and USA.Today were sold. That was a 28-kilometre round trip.

I hadn't walked in that shop since August 2002 and immediately the shop owner said: "It's good to see you are back in Obernai," as I handed him the ¿2.20 for the Herald Tribune (about $3).

Long addicted to its wide-world coverage, I've also written for it in the past. News reported there is so wide-ranging and often travel-oriented it's impossible to resist sharing some of it with you.

Each day brings countless attention getters. Today's was a front-page story focused on the Japanese passion for being married abroad. Apparently several Paris churches have become the centre of this Japanese enthusiasm for overseas marriages . . . the interdenominational American Cathedral in Paris and the Adventist Church.

We were already aware of their preference for unusual honeymoons, encountering them in Canada, Alaska and Hawaii (which remains one of their favourites).

It's been 20 years since we visited with bilingual Japanese travellers at the Banff Springs Hotel on a "group honeymoon". Financed by their corporation where they expected to work forever, that's something no longer true. It was more individualistic when we met honeymooners near Fairbanks one February while attending an Alaskan Fur Rendezvous.

"In our tradition, it's considered good fortune to begin one's marriage under the Northern Lights," they told us. Apparently, according to this lead story, this has become such big business that wedding tourism companies are publicly traded on the Tokyo exchange. One called Watabe had revenues this year of $248 million.

It's called the romance market and these brokers arrange everything, providing the white dress, veil, nosegay bouquet or the bride, tails for the groom. There's a minister, translator and video maker to record it all for families left behind.

Another Japanese firm complete with bridal trip catalogues is Best Bridal. And these are already expanding to Chinese markets in Taiwan and Hong Kong. These so-called "dream weddings" have prices from $2,750 to $5,800. Usually there's first a civil ceremony in Japan, with these "blessings", "celebrations" or "thanksgiving ceremonies" overseas.

In Japan, their total cost would be around $30,000 but $10,000 overseas including honeymoon. It's already so big in France that some wedding agencies actually formed their own trade group ¿ Association Oui, with a web site in English and Japanese, offering facts about both church and chateau weddings.

I immediately thought about Bermuda, with its honeymoon reputation. Perhaps it's not too far-fetched to visualise a Japanese couple repeating their vows standing before a moongate overlooking the ocean. It could be time for Bermuda to create a web page to attract some of the 20,000 Japanese weddings held in Europe last year.

Before Hurricane Iniki damaged the property, we'd had an encore visit at Kauai's Coco Palms Resort and actually saw just such a unique wedding. But this one included a plane full of family and friends.

A well-known Japanese film star chartered a 737 jetliner to be married at Coco Palms in an exact recreation of Elvis Presley's role in Blue Hawaii, which was filmed there.

The mother was an Elvis fan and the wedding coincided with an Elvis impersonation festival. The whole thing was quite incredible. The bride in an elaborate western bridal dress stood at the edge of one of the property's lagoons, awaiting her groom-to-be-arriving by boat just as Elvis had done in the film.

An unusual property, this impressive coconut plantation had been owned by a member of the Hawaiian Royal Family. Very traditional, there was nothing quite like it anywhere in those islands.

All of which proves there is no predicting the lengths to which people will go, or the amount of money they will spend, to carry out their personal fantasy.

Next week: More news from France