Friday, June 22, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn Botanical Gardens: The Narrative
A vacation should never end abruptly which means one must stay in the same mode for at least one more weekend.
Governor Cuomo had sent me an e-mail (yes, personally) promoting New York State’s own vacation spots. Indeed, in addition to the Big Apple, there are many lovely places worth a visit in New York, which I have been, slowly but surely, discovering over the years.
According to Mr.Cuomo, May 31-June 6 was Museum week and Brooklyn Botanical Garden in my own backyard so to speak was a participating institution. So, on Saturday, June 2, a bright and sunny day, we took the LIRR to the Garden, which I had been meaning to visit for a long time now. When we got off at the Eastern Parkway subway station I thought I was back in Europe. The three-dimensional bronze and terra-cotta art work against a mosaic background on the walls of the station evoked a gentler era from the past. In fact, come to think of it, the artwork at Pennsylvania Station also slows you down and evokes a less hurried time. Eastern Parkway station was also the stop for the Brooklyn Museum.
At the street level, the museum is literally in your face. I went up to the door and saw that admission was free after 5 p.m. on the first Saturdays of the month. So we decided first to cover the Garden a block away and then do the museum. In New York, even we residents behave like tourists and adopt elaborate itineraries.
The Garden was beautiful and relaxing though the roses had begun to wither. The weeping beech was like a huge tepee. Oh, there were so many giant trees. And then there were trees growing out of rocks in the rock garden and a small waterfall with a big personality. Another tranquil spot is the Japanese Garden where a family was feeding the huge colorful fish there the O cereal despite the instruction not to. A map came in handy. The Conservatory was another not-to-be-missed spot.
Around five, we hit the museum. Yet another tranquil but a demanding place nonetheless because there is so much to cover. While Islamic and Chinese sections were overflowing with objects dating back to way back, India was represented mostly by Buddhist and Islamic objects. I guess for the majority Hindu part of Indian culture that believes in cremation, and that this world is an illusion, material objects are not of much value.
We were back home around 10-ish after a quick satisfying slice of pizza and Coke at Sbarroa’s across from Penn Station. Photos to follow:
Ciao!
Governor Cuomo had sent me an e-mail (yes, personally) promoting New York State’s own vacation spots. Indeed, in addition to the Big Apple, there are many lovely places worth a visit in New York, which I have been, slowly but surely, discovering over the years.
According to Mr.Cuomo, May 31-June 6 was Museum week and Brooklyn Botanical Garden in my own backyard so to speak was a participating institution. So, on Saturday, June 2, a bright and sunny day, we took the LIRR to the Garden, which I had been meaning to visit for a long time now. When we got off at the Eastern Parkway subway station I thought I was back in Europe. The three-dimensional bronze and terra-cotta art work against a mosaic background on the walls of the station evoked a gentler era from the past. In fact, come to think of it, the artwork at Pennsylvania Station also slows you down and evokes a less hurried time. Eastern Parkway station was also the stop for the Brooklyn Museum.
At the street level, the museum is literally in your face. I went up to the door and saw that admission was free after 5 p.m. on the first Saturdays of the month. So we decided first to cover the Garden a block away and then do the museum. In New York, even we residents behave like tourists and adopt elaborate itineraries.
The Garden was beautiful and relaxing though the roses had begun to wither. The weeping beech was like a huge tepee. Oh, there were so many giant trees. And then there were trees growing out of rocks in the rock garden and a small waterfall with a big personality. Another tranquil spot is the Japanese Garden where a family was feeding the huge colorful fish there the O cereal despite the instruction not to. A map came in handy. The Conservatory was another not-to-be-missed spot.
Around five, we hit the museum. Yet another tranquil but a demanding place nonetheless because there is so much to cover. While Islamic and Chinese sections were overflowing with objects dating back to way back, India was represented mostly by Buddhist and Islamic objects. I guess for the majority Hindu part of Indian culture that believes in cremation, and that this world is an illusion, material objects are not of much value.
We were back home around 10-ish after a quick satisfying slice of pizza and Coke at Sbarroa’s across from Penn Station. Photos to follow:
Ciao!
Monday, June 18, 2012
Europe 2012 Venice, Burano, Salzburg, Munich, Fuessen
1. Venice, Burano, Salzburg, Munich, Fuessen slideshow: 16 minutes long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wCgtEm0vuk
2. Fuessen, Konstanz, Zurich, Paris Slideshow: 16 minutes long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQJtoB7UOOM&feature=plcp
3. Paris Slideshow: 6 minutes long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ek5VeBQaITg&feature=youtu.be
4. Europe 2012,Video: 14 minutes long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAqGojNOoy0&feature=youtu.be
2. Fuessen, Konstanz, Zurich, Paris Slideshow: 16 minutes long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQJtoB7UOOM&feature=plcp
3. Paris Slideshow: 6 minutes long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ek5VeBQaITg&feature=youtu.be
4. Europe 2012,Video: 14 minutes long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAqGojNOoy0&feature=youtu.be
Monday, June 11, 2012
Spring 2012-Europe, Part 1 of 4
Whew, yet another trip (no, I am not complaining, especially because I planned this trip from scratch and now I feel like a real travel pro) and thank God all went well and we are back in one piece because so many things could have gone wrong!
The Preparation
Part 1
I began researching and planning for this 13-day mid-May trip only in the second week of March. I had to learn so much about the best way to travel in Europe by train. But all those hectic hours I spent planning and coordinating the MYRIAD parts involved in such travel paid off. Now, I can write a whole book!
The trip involved flying from New York to Venice, Italy, and flying out of Paris, France. In between is where I wanted to travel by train. During my research phase, I came across terms like EurailPass, TGV, SNCF, Inter-Rail Pass, etc. This made my head spin. One thing that became clear from all this spinning was, I had to fairly quickly decide what I wanted to do, because, during peak season, which begins in May (later I discovered that admission rates at various places of interest went up on May 1), train seats and choice hotel rooms go too fast. Even as I tried to understand the implications and wisdom of obtaining a rail pass, I also had to decide which places I wanted to visit. After much contemplation, research, serendipity and signals from my gut, I chose Innsbruck, Austria, Munich, Germany, southern Bavaria a.k.a. God’s own country, and Zurich and of course our pre-determined book ends Venice and Paris, the raison d’etre for this trip. Ultimately, Innsbruck was dropped, as the train timings seemed inconvenient.
I worked under a terrible time constraint, so a word of caution to the wise: Be very diligent about the places you want to visit so you can buy the right kind of EurailPass in terms of number of countries and number of days of travel. Based on our hurriedly yet diligently compiled itinerary, we bought a five country, five-day pass from the Germany-based Raildude.com, whose owner Peter Freisberg is a very friendly and knowledgeable guy.
It is impossible to work out every single step but draw up as detailed an itinerary as possible. For instance, once I reached Munich, I was able to add Salszburg to my itinerary almost spontaneously, but couldn’t do the same with respect to add Strasbourgh, France, though I would have spent no more than 3-6 R/T euros per person for a first class ticket and it would have made for a nice one-day trip from Paris. The weekend we were in Paris was a long weekend in France as well and so no last minute reservation was possible. Ever train in every single direction was booked solid. In a way, this turned out to be a blessing, because there were places in Paris we were able to cover, including a leisurely stroll along Champs-Elysees from the Louvre on the “extra” day.
Part 2:
Booking your hotel/apartment:
Some of it was good planning based on experience, some of it was pure luck, but we ended up booking excellent accommodations: In Venice, on the canal, and close to the Vaparetto stop Arsenale and within walking distance to St. Mark’s Square. In Munich, a stone’s throw from the main train station, in Konstanz, Germany, after diligent research, also close to the main train station, in Paris, a nice www.waytostay.com apartment in Montmartre with a view of the Sacre Couer from our living room. Working backwards, this was the first accommodation that I booked. I had a feeling, Paris needed a minimum of four days. We got into Paris on the 23rd night and left on the 28th. I had thought that I’d be getting into Paris on the 24th morning, as my itinerary had not been “fine-tuned” at that point. When I booked my Paris stay, not all places I’d visit were in place yet on my itinerary. Originally, I had paid close attention to only the main grid of my travel. But once my final itinerary was in place, it turned out that I had to get into Paris the previous night, and this forced me to book a hostel room, which I did promptly at Le Montclair right across, by design, from my four-night stay apartment. It was a fun experience, though initially, I wasn’t sure if we would get enough sleep given the noise level at the hostel, which died down by 1 a.m. and we were too beat anyway. Next morning, after a nice free breakfast at the hostel, all I had to do was roll my luggage (we traveled light which meant just two carry on’s and a small back pack each) across the street to my Waytostay.com apartment on the 6th floor of 25, Rue Hermel.
Part 2
What luggage to carry and what to pack: Though, at this point, I myself could be selling luggage because of how many suitcases and carryons we have accumulated in our attic over the years, I still had to get new luggage because of the utmost portability convenience I wanted in my luggage. In April, we got ourselves two carryons that also had back straps. The straps came in real handy when we had to change trains four times between Fuessen, Germany and Konstanz, Germany on the border of Switzerland within three-six minutes at each station. Each change included going down 25-30 steps and climbing back up the same number. Here is an anecdote (from the get go I was nervous about the strip between Fuessen and Konstanz) fit for a movie script, possibly:
Fuessen, east of the Bodensee (Lake Constance: http://www.nationsonline.org/oneworld/map/google_map_Bodensee.htm) and 90miles from Konstanz our destination on the 22nd bordering Switzerland, as has been reported by so many people who have visited Fuessen, was stunning and the weather couldn't have been more perfect. On the 22nd, once we got to the ticket center for the castle visits in Fuessen, we bought our tickets for the Neushwanstein Castle 11:25 English tour, and since we had time, we decided to make the steep climb to the castle. The journey took your breath away in more than one sense. Flaunting my hand-made Burano lace umbrella I had bought in Burano on the 18th, I made it to the top. The charming guide at the castle spoke very good English and the tour was not rushed in any way.
All went well and we took the 14:06 as planned after having lunch at restaurant across from the bus stop and buying a cute, genuine Black Forest handmade cuckoo clock at the lodging’s store.
On my train schedule, the short intervals I noticed between train changes on different platforms made me nervous. At Kaufbeuren we had only 3 minutes. The train from Fuessen pulled in a bit late. Still we made it to our train bound for Lindau. The train stopped at Immenstadt and when it left I noticed that the car in front of ours was missing. I wondered why, and so I asked an elderly couple in our car, who spoke no English, if the train was going to Lindau. They said no and tried explaining something in German. Anyway, cutting to the chase, we got off at the next stop, took a train back to Immenstadt, waited for about 90 minutes, took the next train to Lindau. Then changed at Friedrichshafen for Radolfzell (I couldn't even pronounce these names right). Divinely beautiful as this journey was, the train got stuck in between and this meant we would miss the connection for Konstanz at Radolfzell. I decided to pray. It paid off. We reached beautiful Konstanz at 8:05 as opposed to 6:16. At Immenstadt in our hurry, and not knowing the same train would split up and going in two different directions, we got into the wrong car.
Well, we live and learn!
Then changed at Friedrichshafen for Radolfzell (I couldn't even pronounce these names right). Divinely beautiful as this journey was, the train got stuck in between and this meant we would miss the connection for Konstanz at Radolfzell. I decided to pray. It paid off. We reached beautiful Konstanz at 8:05 as opposed to 6:16 had we not sat in the wrong car. At Immenstadt in our hurry, and not knowing the same train would split up and go in two different directions, we got into the wrong car and not understanding German instructions from the driver, we ended up not changing cars.
In Konstanz, I discovered conveyor belts for carryons alongside the staircase. How 'bout that?
We could have quite easily cut the journey short had we taken a ferry across the lake, but our primary goal was to experience the lake from the train. Boy, it was some experience!
As for things that went much more smoothly:
On May 16, we flew Delta out of JFK to Venice. The journey was comfy, the flight attendants were courteous and we got our vegetarian meals (Asian seems to be the best choice) per our request. From Marco Polo Airport in Venice, around 11:30a.m., we took a bus to Piazzale Roma and from here No.1 vaparetto to the Arsenale stop a two-minute walk to our B&B Casa Faveretto booked via www.Venere.com. Our view was partially blocked by the software company Oracle’s ship that was moored before our guest house. The America’s Cup World Series was on from May 15-20 and Oracle was a sponsor. I was unhappy about the partial blocking of my view.
The combo bus-vaparetto ticket was 10 euros a piece to be used (validated) within the next 90 minutes. The postcard-like, sweeping panoramic view of the variegated buildings, the once-upon-a-time-but-now abandoned homes now converted to hotels or museums or government offices, of rich 16th century Venetian merchants on the S-shaped Grand Canal is breathtaking and magical. It was a fairly long, delightful, many stops ride since our stop was almost at the end of the line.
By now, being experienced travelers, we covered quite a bit quite promptly on the very day we landed in Venice. Before leaving New York, I had bought a ticket (free with a two euros service charge for two) to enter St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice so we could avoid long lines. Our designated time was 3:25 but we were early and were able to enter early. Again, the basilica too was a breath taking and a neck straining experience. Here is a link to St. Mark’s Square: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_San_Marco. After the Basilica, we covered the square itself taking pictures of the human-pigeon interaction, waited on line for about half hour to go up to the top of the Bell Tower, befriended a nice young couple (seemed like they were just friends traveling together) from England—she was black and he white—and it was wonderful to be able to communicate in English and not in any made up sign language, and then, after buying our tickets, went up to the top by an elevator. The 360 degree view of Venice from the top was spectacular though the Grand Canal itself was nowhere to be seen! The huge bell above head in the Bell Tower was truly humongous.
Our next stop was the Doge Palace (Palazzo Ducale) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doge's_Palace,_Venice. I was recovering from jet lag, so sitting up on the bench in the Great Hall I took a power nap. Visited the famous prison and the Bridge of Sighs as well.
On the 18th, we bought a 12-hour pass to visit Burano and ended the day with a trip on the Grand Canal. We skipped the “run-down” Murano as I am not a fan of watching glass works being made and nor were we going to buy anything to carry back with us. I already had a cute Murano glass pendant sold to me by a savvy New Yorker, a former principal at a school, who had a jewelry sale at a friend’s place in my town selling some of her own collection from her extensive travel and some purportedly designed by her. Moreover, I had heard so much about Burano, I simply could not resist visiting this fishing village and as a tourist one has to choose. On the boat, we met a garrulous New Zealander who has been traveling for about six months now. She reminded me of someone I know but I just could not figure out who. She was from Corpus Christie and the 2011 earthquake seems to have reminded people to live each day to its fullest. Her revenge was travel. In fact, we had met a couple at dinner the previous night who also were from New Zealand.
The heavy-set, garrulous woman talked about her brother who went to Princeton and is now the chief Economist in New Zealand. She also talked about New Zealand’s participation in America’s Cup. An hour or so later, we ran into her on the handkerchief-sized Burano near a tiny bridge across a tiny canal from where a vegetable vendor was selling produce not particularly inviting, as they were neither very fresh nor laid out well, at exorbitant prices (8 eruos for a kilo of cherries, which interestingly looked luscious and deep red) from his wobbly little colorful boat, and exchanged pleasantries.
Lined with modest colorful homes (they belong to local fishermen and they are colored because they can be easily identified at night by the returning fishermen), narrow canals, miniature bridges, and lots of restaurants, a few delis and souvenir shops galore, Burano is like a recreated village. My shopping included a square tapestry of St. Mark’s Square and a cute, hand-made beige lace umbrella that really came in handy on that bright sunny day. When I returned home in New York, I realized that the tapestry my sister had brought for me from her European tour in 2010 was also that of St. Mark’s Square but it also covered the frolicking tourists from the past in gondolas. My plan was to hang my new tapestry next to this but now I am not sure about my plans for it.
On our way back, we stopped by at Lido, yet another beautiful island gem in the Lagoon and which is where the Venice Film Festival takes place. Because of the American Cup, which was in full swing by now, there were no boats from Lido to Venice beyond the eastern tip till the evening. We took the 5:30 boat and made it back to Venice, and ultimately, to our home base Casa Faveretto. After getting dressed we went out for dinner, which turned out to be not a pleasant experience because of poor quality service and “prejudices” by the Bangla Deshi owner against Indians. Regardless of what passport one holds, or how long one has been away from one’s native country or how different your ways may be from the native country’s inhabitants of 40 years ago, one never knows how one is going to be perceived.
Next day, our final day in Venice, we walked from the north eastern tip of Costello Sestieri (district) to the north western tip of Sestieri where the train station St. Lucia was, covering several spots of interest along the way like the Jewish Quarters in Cannaregio, a few former palaces, numerous little gulleys and finally, had a simple but delectable panini lunch near the Rialto Bridge which we crossed once again later from San Polo Sistieri: http://0.tqn.com/d/goitaly/1/0/b/B/-/-/venice-sestieri-map.png. Apparently, all of Venice is just the size of New York City’s Central Park. That night, enjoying the cool breeze, we took the vaperetto to St. Lucia and dined near the station under a clear sky sitting on a bench along the Grand Canal. Our train run by Deutsche Bahn bound for Munich left nearly 20 minutes late!
Ciao!
The Preparation
Part 1
I began researching and planning for this 13-day mid-May trip only in the second week of March. I had to learn so much about the best way to travel in Europe by train. But all those hectic hours I spent planning and coordinating the MYRIAD parts involved in such travel paid off. Now, I can write a whole book!
The trip involved flying from New York to Venice, Italy, and flying out of Paris, France. In between is where I wanted to travel by train. During my research phase, I came across terms like EurailPass, TGV, SNCF, Inter-Rail Pass, etc. This made my head spin. One thing that became clear from all this spinning was, I had to fairly quickly decide what I wanted to do, because, during peak season, which begins in May (later I discovered that admission rates at various places of interest went up on May 1), train seats and choice hotel rooms go too fast. Even as I tried to understand the implications and wisdom of obtaining a rail pass, I also had to decide which places I wanted to visit. After much contemplation, research, serendipity and signals from my gut, I chose Innsbruck, Austria, Munich, Germany, southern Bavaria a.k.a. God’s own country, and Zurich and of course our pre-determined book ends Venice and Paris, the raison d’etre for this trip. Ultimately, Innsbruck was dropped, as the train timings seemed inconvenient.
I worked under a terrible time constraint, so a word of caution to the wise: Be very diligent about the places you want to visit so you can buy the right kind of EurailPass in terms of number of countries and number of days of travel. Based on our hurriedly yet diligently compiled itinerary, we bought a five country, five-day pass from the Germany-based Raildude.com, whose owner Peter Freisberg is a very friendly and knowledgeable guy.
It is impossible to work out every single step but draw up as detailed an itinerary as possible. For instance, once I reached Munich, I was able to add Salszburg to my itinerary almost spontaneously, but couldn’t do the same with respect to add Strasbourgh, France, though I would have spent no more than 3-6 R/T euros per person for a first class ticket and it would have made for a nice one-day trip from Paris. The weekend we were in Paris was a long weekend in France as well and so no last minute reservation was possible. Ever train in every single direction was booked solid. In a way, this turned out to be a blessing, because there were places in Paris we were able to cover, including a leisurely stroll along Champs-Elysees from the Louvre on the “extra” day.
Part 2:
Booking your hotel/apartment:
Some of it was good planning based on experience, some of it was pure luck, but we ended up booking excellent accommodations: In Venice, on the canal, and close to the Vaparetto stop Arsenale and within walking distance to St. Mark’s Square. In Munich, a stone’s throw from the main train station, in Konstanz, Germany, after diligent research, also close to the main train station, in Paris, a nice www.waytostay.com apartment in Montmartre with a view of the Sacre Couer from our living room. Working backwards, this was the first accommodation that I booked. I had a feeling, Paris needed a minimum of four days. We got into Paris on the 23rd night and left on the 28th. I had thought that I’d be getting into Paris on the 24th morning, as my itinerary had not been “fine-tuned” at that point. When I booked my Paris stay, not all places I’d visit were in place yet on my itinerary. Originally, I had paid close attention to only the main grid of my travel. But once my final itinerary was in place, it turned out that I had to get into Paris the previous night, and this forced me to book a hostel room, which I did promptly at Le Montclair right across, by design, from my four-night stay apartment. It was a fun experience, though initially, I wasn’t sure if we would get enough sleep given the noise level at the hostel, which died down by 1 a.m. and we were too beat anyway. Next morning, after a nice free breakfast at the hostel, all I had to do was roll my luggage (we traveled light which meant just two carry on’s and a small back pack each) across the street to my Waytostay.com apartment on the 6th floor of 25, Rue Hermel.
Part 2
What luggage to carry and what to pack: Though, at this point, I myself could be selling luggage because of how many suitcases and carryons we have accumulated in our attic over the years, I still had to get new luggage because of the utmost portability convenience I wanted in my luggage. In April, we got ourselves two carryons that also had back straps. The straps came in real handy when we had to change trains four times between Fuessen, Germany and Konstanz, Germany on the border of Switzerland within three-six minutes at each station. Each change included going down 25-30 steps and climbing back up the same number. Here is an anecdote (from the get go I was nervous about the strip between Fuessen and Konstanz) fit for a movie script, possibly:
Fuessen, east of the Bodensee (Lake Constance: http://www.nationsonline.org/oneworld/map/google_map_Bodensee.htm) and 90miles from Konstanz our destination on the 22nd bordering Switzerland, as has been reported by so many people who have visited Fuessen, was stunning and the weather couldn't have been more perfect. On the 22nd, once we got to the ticket center for the castle visits in Fuessen, we bought our tickets for the Neushwanstein Castle 11:25 English tour, and since we had time, we decided to make the steep climb to the castle. The journey took your breath away in more than one sense. Flaunting my hand-made Burano lace umbrella I had bought in Burano on the 18th, I made it to the top. The charming guide at the castle spoke very good English and the tour was not rushed in any way.
All went well and we took the 14:06 as planned after having lunch at restaurant across from the bus stop and buying a cute, genuine Black Forest handmade cuckoo clock at the lodging’s store.
On my train schedule, the short intervals I noticed between train changes on different platforms made me nervous. At Kaufbeuren we had only 3 minutes. The train from Fuessen pulled in a bit late. Still we made it to our train bound for Lindau. The train stopped at Immenstadt and when it left I noticed that the car in front of ours was missing. I wondered why, and so I asked an elderly couple in our car, who spoke no English, if the train was going to Lindau. They said no and tried explaining something in German. Anyway, cutting to the chase, we got off at the next stop, took a train back to Immenstadt, waited for about 90 minutes, took the next train to Lindau. Then changed at Friedrichshafen for Radolfzell (I couldn't even pronounce these names right). Divinely beautiful as this journey was, the train got stuck in between and this meant we would miss the connection for Konstanz at Radolfzell. I decided to pray. It paid off. We reached beautiful Konstanz at 8:05 as opposed to 6:16. At Immenstadt in our hurry, and not knowing the same train would split up and going in two different directions, we got into the wrong car.
Well, we live and learn!
Then changed at Friedrichshafen for Radolfzell (I couldn't even pronounce these names right). Divinely beautiful as this journey was, the train got stuck in between and this meant we would miss the connection for Konstanz at Radolfzell. I decided to pray. It paid off. We reached beautiful Konstanz at 8:05 as opposed to 6:16 had we not sat in the wrong car. At Immenstadt in our hurry, and not knowing the same train would split up and go in two different directions, we got into the wrong car and not understanding German instructions from the driver, we ended up not changing cars.
In Konstanz, I discovered conveyor belts for carryons alongside the staircase. How 'bout that?
We could have quite easily cut the journey short had we taken a ferry across the lake, but our primary goal was to experience the lake from the train. Boy, it was some experience!
As for things that went much more smoothly:
On May 16, we flew Delta out of JFK to Venice. The journey was comfy, the flight attendants were courteous and we got our vegetarian meals (Asian seems to be the best choice) per our request. From Marco Polo Airport in Venice, around 11:30a.m., we took a bus to Piazzale Roma and from here No.1 vaparetto to the Arsenale stop a two-minute walk to our B&B Casa Faveretto booked via www.Venere.com. Our view was partially blocked by the software company Oracle’s ship that was moored before our guest house. The America’s Cup World Series was on from May 15-20 and Oracle was a sponsor. I was unhappy about the partial blocking of my view.
The combo bus-vaparetto ticket was 10 euros a piece to be used (validated) within the next 90 minutes. The postcard-like, sweeping panoramic view of the variegated buildings, the once-upon-a-time-but-now abandoned homes now converted to hotels or museums or government offices, of rich 16th century Venetian merchants on the S-shaped Grand Canal is breathtaking and magical. It was a fairly long, delightful, many stops ride since our stop was almost at the end of the line.
By now, being experienced travelers, we covered quite a bit quite promptly on the very day we landed in Venice. Before leaving New York, I had bought a ticket (free with a two euros service charge for two) to enter St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice so we could avoid long lines. Our designated time was 3:25 but we were early and were able to enter early. Again, the basilica too was a breath taking and a neck straining experience. Here is a link to St. Mark’s Square: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_San_Marco. After the Basilica, we covered the square itself taking pictures of the human-pigeon interaction, waited on line for about half hour to go up to the top of the Bell Tower, befriended a nice young couple (seemed like they were just friends traveling together) from England—she was black and he white—and it was wonderful to be able to communicate in English and not in any made up sign language, and then, after buying our tickets, went up to the top by an elevator. The 360 degree view of Venice from the top was spectacular though the Grand Canal itself was nowhere to be seen! The huge bell above head in the Bell Tower was truly humongous.
Our next stop was the Doge Palace (Palazzo Ducale) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doge's_Palace,_Venice. I was recovering from jet lag, so sitting up on the bench in the Great Hall I took a power nap. Visited the famous prison and the Bridge of Sighs as well.
On the 18th, we bought a 12-hour pass to visit Burano and ended the day with a trip on the Grand Canal. We skipped the “run-down” Murano as I am not a fan of watching glass works being made and nor were we going to buy anything to carry back with us. I already had a cute Murano glass pendant sold to me by a savvy New Yorker, a former principal at a school, who had a jewelry sale at a friend’s place in my town selling some of her own collection from her extensive travel and some purportedly designed by her. Moreover, I had heard so much about Burano, I simply could not resist visiting this fishing village and as a tourist one has to choose. On the boat, we met a garrulous New Zealander who has been traveling for about six months now. She reminded me of someone I know but I just could not figure out who. She was from Corpus Christie and the 2011 earthquake seems to have reminded people to live each day to its fullest. Her revenge was travel. In fact, we had met a couple at dinner the previous night who also were from New Zealand.
The heavy-set, garrulous woman talked about her brother who went to Princeton and is now the chief Economist in New Zealand. She also talked about New Zealand’s participation in America’s Cup. An hour or so later, we ran into her on the handkerchief-sized Burano near a tiny bridge across a tiny canal from where a vegetable vendor was selling produce not particularly inviting, as they were neither very fresh nor laid out well, at exorbitant prices (8 eruos for a kilo of cherries, which interestingly looked luscious and deep red) from his wobbly little colorful boat, and exchanged pleasantries.
Lined with modest colorful homes (they belong to local fishermen and they are colored because they can be easily identified at night by the returning fishermen), narrow canals, miniature bridges, and lots of restaurants, a few delis and souvenir shops galore, Burano is like a recreated village. My shopping included a square tapestry of St. Mark’s Square and a cute, hand-made beige lace umbrella that really came in handy on that bright sunny day. When I returned home in New York, I realized that the tapestry my sister had brought for me from her European tour in 2010 was also that of St. Mark’s Square but it also covered the frolicking tourists from the past in gondolas. My plan was to hang my new tapestry next to this but now I am not sure about my plans for it.
On our way back, we stopped by at Lido, yet another beautiful island gem in the Lagoon and which is where the Venice Film Festival takes place. Because of the American Cup, which was in full swing by now, there were no boats from Lido to Venice beyond the eastern tip till the evening. We took the 5:30 boat and made it back to Venice, and ultimately, to our home base Casa Faveretto. After getting dressed we went out for dinner, which turned out to be not a pleasant experience because of poor quality service and “prejudices” by the Bangla Deshi owner against Indians. Regardless of what passport one holds, or how long one has been away from one’s native country or how different your ways may be from the native country’s inhabitants of 40 years ago, one never knows how one is going to be perceived.
Next day, our final day in Venice, we walked from the north eastern tip of Costello Sestieri (district) to the north western tip of Sestieri where the train station St. Lucia was, covering several spots of interest along the way like the Jewish Quarters in Cannaregio, a few former palaces, numerous little gulleys and finally, had a simple but delectable panini lunch near the Rialto Bridge which we crossed once again later from San Polo Sistieri: http://0.tqn.com/d/goitaly/1/0/b/B/-/-/venice-sestieri-map.png. Apparently, all of Venice is just the size of New York City’s Central Park. That night, enjoying the cool breeze, we took the vaperetto to St. Lucia and dined near the station under a clear sky sitting on a bench along the Grand Canal. Our train run by Deutsche Bahn bound for Munich left nearly 20 minutes late!
Ciao!
Friday, June 8, 2012
Spring 2012 Europe, Part 2 of 4
Spring 2012—Europe
May 20-22, Munich.
When we got out of the train that arrived on time at 6:30 a.m. in Munchen, we were literally blown away by the amount of trash and debris on the platform and all over the station and outside. We just couldn’t figure out but quickly B guessed right that there was a soccer match the previous night between Chelsea, England and Munich though he didn’t know who had won. Later that evening at the English Garden while chugging down some welcome beer, a German who was at our table informed us Munich had lost. He was sad. He had traveled about 7 hours from Hamburg to attend the game the tickets for which he had won in a lottery that had a million entrants and only a thousand winners.
Soon after we left our luggage at our hotel, we decided to travel to Salzburg, Austria. Had the train not been late, we would have missed the train, whose timing we discovered only after getting to the station. It was a lovely journey though through several industrial towns and once we got to Salzburg, we went to the tourist office, and bought two hop on hop off bus tickets. The guided tour was beautiful and we crossed the river Salzache a couple of times and after spending a few minutes at the Mirabel Gardens attached to the Mirabel Castle, and listening to some great music in the garden, shooting a few photos of the garden and the environs and the small arboretum, we returned to the bus and the very friendly female driver. After surveying our map, we decided to get off at sop number 5 and walk around as there was a cluster of buildings in this area, which included the 8th century Salzburg Cathedral (http://www.kamml.com/en-salzburg_cathedral.shtml). The narrow, glitzy and winding streets sporting many high-end shops and small delis turned out to be relaxing experience. The highlight of this most attractive and most visited shopping street in Salzburg, named Getreidegasse (http://www.kamml.com/en-getreidegasse_salzburg.shtml), was visiting Mozart’s birthplace Mozart's Geburtshaus (http://www.kamml.com/en-mozart_birthplace_salzburg.shtml) that is a museum now. After a quick dash through this sanctified place, we ate some lunch, a panini and soda ands chips. The English-speaking attendant at the deli obliged to my request to him to use a fresh pair of gloves to handle my panini. Without my asking, he even used a fresh knife and served the two halves accompanied by a broad smile.
As we sat at a bench and ate our meal, numerous well-groomed, high-bred, dogs--several identical to each other in a pack of even six or more-- were sashaying down the street their owners sporting a proud smile. Later at the hotel in Munich, when we inquired about this, we were told that a three-day Annual World Dog Show was in progress in Salzburg. What a treat this unorganized parade was for us!
Next, we headed for Mozart Square dominated by a Mozart statue and a fountain and we were in for another treat, a band consisting of mostly young men sporting shorts in suspenders over their short sleeve shirts playing lively music. After about 90minutes,we returned to our bus stop and covering more spots, including a quick stop across from the von Trapp family of the Sound of Music movie fame. We caught an earlier fast speed train back to Munich and were back at our hotel by 4:30.
After freshening up, we walked through Old Town covering churches, closed shops in Marineplatz, the new Town Hall, Odeonsplatz, and reached the English Gardens via the Residenz. The famous Hofbrauhaus on the way was too noisy for us.
After that long walk, it was heavenly to wash down pieces of a huge pretzel with some chilled beer, which we almost missed out on as the refreshments kiosk was just closing. The setting was idyllic and under the open blue sky in the balcony of the Chinese Pagoda (Chinesischer Turm), a band played some great hits. Behind me, a group of Indians was making a hell of a racket. I heard some Hindi songs, and I joined them and tried belting out some oldies in my drunken state forgetting a lot of the lyrics. It turned out, Ms. Desai was trained in classical music and so no wonder her singing too sounded trained. The three youngsters (two gals and a guy) in the group were college students and the middle-aged woman was the mother of one. Bala was lost in conversation with our German friend from Hamburg talking about the previous night’s game that Munich lost, the economy, Angela Merkel (the German didn’t like her domestic policy but liked the impression she was making on world stage), EU, and German health care system where everyone was covered. The German didn’t like the word socialist applied earlier by Bala to Germany’s public policy. Earlier, one thing the German and I both had agreed on was that individuals must take more responsibility on their own for their health.
After B & I returned to our neighborhood, we went looking for food. It was quite late, so we picked up a falafel and a wrap and diet coke and returned to our room, turned on the nightly news and ate in. We learned that early that morning, there had been a pretty damaging 6.0 earthquake in Bologna, 81 miles southwest of Venice, killing several people including a 106 year-old in her bed. Quite beat from the day’s activities, we went to sleep on a lumpy mattress.
Next day bright and early after a nice sit-down breakfast, we went back to the station to inquire about travel to Fuessen the next morning. The stern-looking woman at the DB counter handed us a printout in German. Our later disaster between Fuessen and Konstanz might have been avoided had the text been in English. Ah, who knows why things go wrong?
Next, we headed to the Tourist Office outside the station which promptly opened at 9:00 a.m. Here, we learned how to get to Nymphenburg Palace (Schloss Nymphenburg) by tram, bought a day pass and soon hopped on the tram across from the Office. It was nice ride and the schloss was well worth a visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nymphenburg_Palace. This is where “Mad King” Ludwig II was born whose Neuschwanstein Castle was the reason for our visit to Fuessen (I think I should compose a song about Fuessen!) Much as we decry monarchy, but for them, who else could exemplify excess and opulence? They were the standard bearers for excessive indulgence worth emulating by others in all generations who wished/thought they were royalty, which in some ways, they probably are!
From the palace we went to Olympia Park the 1972 Summer Olympics site by tram and subway and it was yet another treat. Here, we took in the lovely setting, took photographs, remembered the 1972 kidnapping of the Israeli athletes with sadness, visited the swimming pools, had lunch and before boarding the train back, visited the BMW Museum.
On our return trip, we got off at the Odeaonplatz (I fell in love with this spot; its Feldherrnhalle: http://www.aviewoncities.com/munich/feldherrnhalle.htm reminded me so much of the mandapams in south Indian temples): http://www.aviewoncities.com/munich/odeonsplatz.htm (we were in this square the previous evening on our way to the English Garden) stop near the Residenz Palace, which seemed closed, and then we searched for the famous Viktualienmarkt: http://www.aviewoncities.com/munich/viktualienmarkt.htm, wandered around the market checking the price of various things, returned to Marienplatz, had coffee and a black forest cake at a cafe here, and then positioned ourselves for the two Glockenspiel’sfiuve’s o’clock presentations--enactment of the 1568 wedding of Duke William V and Renate of Lorraine, complete with a jousting match and a rendition of a dance called the Schäfferltanz, first performed to mark the end of the plague in 1517. We returned to our room, freshened up and went to Rama Restaurant http://www.toytowngermany.com/munich/rama.html, which we had spotted accidentally on our way to Nymphenburg that morning and had a sumptuous Indian dinner. There was just one other guest besides us—the owner of Joto Abrasives, Nasik, India. We struck up a conversation and when he left he said hat he was happy to have met a sister.
We roamed around a bit on the tram, took in the long Maxmillianstrasse lined with upscale shops, glimpsed at River Isar, and then returned to our room around 10:30 p.m..
Next morning, as planned, we took the to 8:03 train to Fuessen. Once we got to Fuessen, I felt that we should have got into Fuessen the previous night. Fuessen was so quaint and so beautiful! “Mad King” Ludwig II was not mad after all.
After our wonderful trip to Fuessen, the minor incident that took place as described before, led to a happy encounter with Daniella who also was traveling to Lindau and who also was in the wrong car like us.
Soon after our train left the “famous” Immenstadt, a lithesome youngish woman with a lean face flustered burst into our compartment and asked if the train was going to Lindau. At that point, we had not yet realized our mistake, so we said, yes. She left our compartment and we didn’t know where she went. Later, the moment we realized we had a mistake and I ran into the next compartment to look for the conductor, I saw Daniella siting there. I informed her that we were in the wrong car. A few quick exchanges with the other passengers in broken German (Daniella) and broken English (the German passengers, although one Hispanic looking woman spoke better English—most non-whites in Europe spoke good English!) made us realize that we should get off at the next station which surprisingly came within the next few minutes. At the station was a friendly looking young man whose name was Allah! Yes, go figure. He was an Iraqi who had worked with the Americans in Iraq and finally chose to make Germany his home...at least for now. In his limited English, he communicated that he’d take us back to Immenstadt, which is where he lived, and put us on the next train to Lindau. What a relief this was! He even tried helping me with my luggage which help I politely declined.
Soon after we bid goodbye to Allah in Immenstadt, we went over to the Deutsche Bahn (DB) Office to make sure we had the right train information. Once again, the stiff uniformed assistant, when I explained to him our mistake and how the train from Faussen to Kaufbeuren was late thus “forcing” us to make the mistake we made, and how the DB agent in Munich had given us a schedule in German, from his printer, he whipped out a new schedule from Immenstadt to Kontanz in English.
At the station, Daniella and I became the best of friends. I don’t know why we connected so instantly. We were like two schoolgirls on an expedition. Daniella’s infectious spirit was the reason behind this I think. With no common language between us, still, we managed to communicate so much. When hearts meet, no formal language seems necessary. I learned that she had been trained in ballet for 20 years. She was from Transylvania, Romania. Just with hand gestures and an extremely expressive face, she “explained” that people in Transylvania were very nice but not so in Bucharest. She taught sign language to deaf-and-mute children in Valencia, Spain and in summer was going to Africa with a doctor to, pro bono, help children there. I was so touched.
She was also breaking up with her alcoholic boyfriend. We decided that we’d teach each other some English and Spanish. We’d point to the various pieces of our luggage and name them in the two languages. She pointed to a pigeon and said Pilomita and repeated it. Then I wondered aloud to her if Picasso’s daughter’s name Pilomina was derived from Pilomita. Indeed, I could imagine Picasso calling his daughter, his little dove. We both burst out laughing. I took her e-mail address and we promised to continue the lessons by e-mail. Soon the train arrived. After about ninety minutes, we all got off at Lindau and we hugged each other and bid goodbye and B and I dashed off to our connecting train to Friederichshafen.
Anyway, all is well that ends well, and we eventually, reached Konstanz at 8:05 p.m. without any more incidents, and still there was plenty of daylight left. I knew we were in for another treat
Ciao!
May 20-22, Munich.
When we got out of the train that arrived on time at 6:30 a.m. in Munchen, we were literally blown away by the amount of trash and debris on the platform and all over the station and outside. We just couldn’t figure out but quickly B guessed right that there was a soccer match the previous night between Chelsea, England and Munich though he didn’t know who had won. Later that evening at the English Garden while chugging down some welcome beer, a German who was at our table informed us Munich had lost. He was sad. He had traveled about 7 hours from Hamburg to attend the game the tickets for which he had won in a lottery that had a million entrants and only a thousand winners.
Soon after we left our luggage at our hotel, we decided to travel to Salzburg, Austria. Had the train not been late, we would have missed the train, whose timing we discovered only after getting to the station. It was a lovely journey though through several industrial towns and once we got to Salzburg, we went to the tourist office, and bought two hop on hop off bus tickets. The guided tour was beautiful and we crossed the river Salzache a couple of times and after spending a few minutes at the Mirabel Gardens attached to the Mirabel Castle, and listening to some great music in the garden, shooting a few photos of the garden and the environs and the small arboretum, we returned to the bus and the very friendly female driver. After surveying our map, we decided to get off at sop number 5 and walk around as there was a cluster of buildings in this area, which included the 8th century Salzburg Cathedral (http://www.kamml.com/en-salzburg_cathedral.shtml). The narrow, glitzy and winding streets sporting many high-end shops and small delis turned out to be relaxing experience. The highlight of this most attractive and most visited shopping street in Salzburg, named Getreidegasse (http://www.kamml.com/en-getreidegasse_salzburg.shtml), was visiting Mozart’s birthplace Mozart's Geburtshaus (http://www.kamml.com/en-mozart_birthplace_salzburg.shtml) that is a museum now. After a quick dash through this sanctified place, we ate some lunch, a panini and soda ands chips. The English-speaking attendant at the deli obliged to my request to him to use a fresh pair of gloves to handle my panini. Without my asking, he even used a fresh knife and served the two halves accompanied by a broad smile.
As we sat at a bench and ate our meal, numerous well-groomed, high-bred, dogs--several identical to each other in a pack of even six or more-- were sashaying down the street their owners sporting a proud smile. Later at the hotel in Munich, when we inquired about this, we were told that a three-day Annual World Dog Show was in progress in Salzburg. What a treat this unorganized parade was for us!
Next, we headed for Mozart Square dominated by a Mozart statue and a fountain and we were in for another treat, a band consisting of mostly young men sporting shorts in suspenders over their short sleeve shirts playing lively music. After about 90minutes,we returned to our bus stop and covering more spots, including a quick stop across from the von Trapp family of the Sound of Music movie fame. We caught an earlier fast speed train back to Munich and were back at our hotel by 4:30.
After freshening up, we walked through Old Town covering churches, closed shops in Marineplatz, the new Town Hall, Odeonsplatz, and reached the English Gardens via the Residenz. The famous Hofbrauhaus on the way was too noisy for us.
After that long walk, it was heavenly to wash down pieces of a huge pretzel with some chilled beer, which we almost missed out on as the refreshments kiosk was just closing. The setting was idyllic and under the open blue sky in the balcony of the Chinese Pagoda (Chinesischer Turm), a band played some great hits. Behind me, a group of Indians was making a hell of a racket. I heard some Hindi songs, and I joined them and tried belting out some oldies in my drunken state forgetting a lot of the lyrics. It turned out, Ms. Desai was trained in classical music and so no wonder her singing too sounded trained. The three youngsters (two gals and a guy) in the group were college students and the middle-aged woman was the mother of one. Bala was lost in conversation with our German friend from Hamburg talking about the previous night’s game that Munich lost, the economy, Angela Merkel (the German didn’t like her domestic policy but liked the impression she was making on world stage), EU, and German health care system where everyone was covered. The German didn’t like the word socialist applied earlier by Bala to Germany’s public policy. Earlier, one thing the German and I both had agreed on was that individuals must take more responsibility on their own for their health.
After B & I returned to our neighborhood, we went looking for food. It was quite late, so we picked up a falafel and a wrap and diet coke and returned to our room, turned on the nightly news and ate in. We learned that early that morning, there had been a pretty damaging 6.0 earthquake in Bologna, 81 miles southwest of Venice, killing several people including a 106 year-old in her bed. Quite beat from the day’s activities, we went to sleep on a lumpy mattress.
Next day bright and early after a nice sit-down breakfast, we went back to the station to inquire about travel to Fuessen the next morning. The stern-looking woman at the DB counter handed us a printout in German. Our later disaster between Fuessen and Konstanz might have been avoided had the text been in English. Ah, who knows why things go wrong?
Next, we headed to the Tourist Office outside the station which promptly opened at 9:00 a.m. Here, we learned how to get to Nymphenburg Palace (Schloss Nymphenburg) by tram, bought a day pass and soon hopped on the tram across from the Office. It was nice ride and the schloss was well worth a visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nymphenburg_Palace. This is where “Mad King” Ludwig II was born whose Neuschwanstein Castle was the reason for our visit to Fuessen (I think I should compose a song about Fuessen!) Much as we decry monarchy, but for them, who else could exemplify excess and opulence? They were the standard bearers for excessive indulgence worth emulating by others in all generations who wished/thought they were royalty, which in some ways, they probably are!
From the palace we went to Olympia Park the 1972 Summer Olympics site by tram and subway and it was yet another treat. Here, we took in the lovely setting, took photographs, remembered the 1972 kidnapping of the Israeli athletes with sadness, visited the swimming pools, had lunch and before boarding the train back, visited the BMW Museum.
On our return trip, we got off at the Odeaonplatz (I fell in love with this spot; its Feldherrnhalle: http://www.aviewoncities.com/munich/feldherrnhalle.htm reminded me so much of the mandapams in south Indian temples): http://www.aviewoncities.com/munich/odeonsplatz.htm (we were in this square the previous evening on our way to the English Garden) stop near the Residenz Palace, which seemed closed, and then we searched for the famous Viktualienmarkt: http://www.aviewoncities.com/munich/viktualienmarkt.htm, wandered around the market checking the price of various things, returned to Marienplatz, had coffee and a black forest cake at a cafe here, and then positioned ourselves for the two Glockenspiel’sfiuve’s o’clock presentations--enactment of the 1568 wedding of Duke William V and Renate of Lorraine, complete with a jousting match and a rendition of a dance called the Schäfferltanz, first performed to mark the end of the plague in 1517. We returned to our room, freshened up and went to Rama Restaurant http://www.toytowngermany.com/munich/rama.html, which we had spotted accidentally on our way to Nymphenburg that morning and had a sumptuous Indian dinner. There was just one other guest besides us—the owner of Joto Abrasives, Nasik, India. We struck up a conversation and when he left he said hat he was happy to have met a sister.
We roamed around a bit on the tram, took in the long Maxmillianstrasse lined with upscale shops, glimpsed at River Isar, and then returned to our room around 10:30 p.m..
Next morning, as planned, we took the to 8:03 train to Fuessen. Once we got to Fuessen, I felt that we should have got into Fuessen the previous night. Fuessen was so quaint and so beautiful! “Mad King” Ludwig II was not mad after all.
After our wonderful trip to Fuessen, the minor incident that took place as described before, led to a happy encounter with Daniella who also was traveling to Lindau and who also was in the wrong car like us.
Soon after our train left the “famous” Immenstadt, a lithesome youngish woman with a lean face flustered burst into our compartment and asked if the train was going to Lindau. At that point, we had not yet realized our mistake, so we said, yes. She left our compartment and we didn’t know where she went. Later, the moment we realized we had a mistake and I ran into the next compartment to look for the conductor, I saw Daniella siting there. I informed her that we were in the wrong car. A few quick exchanges with the other passengers in broken German (Daniella) and broken English (the German passengers, although one Hispanic looking woman spoke better English—most non-whites in Europe spoke good English!) made us realize that we should get off at the next station which surprisingly came within the next few minutes. At the station was a friendly looking young man whose name was Allah! Yes, go figure. He was an Iraqi who had worked with the Americans in Iraq and finally chose to make Germany his home...at least for now. In his limited English, he communicated that he’d take us back to Immenstadt, which is where he lived, and put us on the next train to Lindau. What a relief this was! He even tried helping me with my luggage which help I politely declined.
Soon after we bid goodbye to Allah in Immenstadt, we went over to the Deutsche Bahn (DB) Office to make sure we had the right train information. Once again, the stiff uniformed assistant, when I explained to him our mistake and how the train from Faussen to Kaufbeuren was late thus “forcing” us to make the mistake we made, and how the DB agent in Munich had given us a schedule in German, from his printer, he whipped out a new schedule from Immenstadt to Kontanz in English.
At the station, Daniella and I became the best of friends. I don’t know why we connected so instantly. We were like two schoolgirls on an expedition. Daniella’s infectious spirit was the reason behind this I think. With no common language between us, still, we managed to communicate so much. When hearts meet, no formal language seems necessary. I learned that she had been trained in ballet for 20 years. She was from Transylvania, Romania. Just with hand gestures and an extremely expressive face, she “explained” that people in Transylvania were very nice but not so in Bucharest. She taught sign language to deaf-and-mute children in Valencia, Spain and in summer was going to Africa with a doctor to, pro bono, help children there. I was so touched.
She was also breaking up with her alcoholic boyfriend. We decided that we’d teach each other some English and Spanish. We’d point to the various pieces of our luggage and name them in the two languages. She pointed to a pigeon and said Pilomita and repeated it. Then I wondered aloud to her if Picasso’s daughter’s name Pilomina was derived from Pilomita. Indeed, I could imagine Picasso calling his daughter, his little dove. We both burst out laughing. I took her e-mail address and we promised to continue the lessons by e-mail. Soon the train arrived. After about ninety minutes, we all got off at Lindau and we hugged each other and bid goodbye and B and I dashed off to our connecting train to Friederichshafen.
Anyway, all is well that ends well, and we eventually, reached Konstanz at 8:05 p.m. without any more incidents, and still there was plenty of daylight left. I knew we were in for another treat
Ciao!
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Spring 2012, Europe, Part 3 of 4
May 22-24
Our friendly Italian host in Konstanz greeted us at our B&B Wiesentäler Hof Hotel garni, a corner building at the meeting pint of two cobble stone lanes. We couldn’t wait to get into our room and freshen up. What a day it had been! The room was comfy with a large floor-to-ceiling window facing a residential building and on the third floor. After unpacking quickly and freshening up, we came down and decided to dine right at the B&B’s La Cucina restaurant.
The co-owner who spoke very little English just like his greeting brother earlier, who spoke even less English, somehow understood our vegetarian needs and explained in many different ways in Italian mainly the special dinner he could whip up for us for just 15 euros apiece, which was 20 euros off the regular price because “I slept with him,” he said. I think B was scandalized. What the brother meant was we were guests at his B&B. Noodle was mentioned and so we assumed that we’d get some nice noodle pasta. How could one go wrong with this offering? When he mentioned pepperoni, I vehemently objected to it to which he responded, “No pepperoni?’ It occurred to me he meant pepper and I was right.
We took seats at a table on the sidewalk outside La Cucina and tokk in the street scene, which consisted of a few slow moving cars, a few people walking their dogs, and a fashionably dressed strolling couple. It was a quiet corner with just the two of us diners. Soon after the wine we had ordered arrived, the first course, a nice salad with sauted mushrooms, peeled onion marinated in vinegar, roasted strips of yellow pepper and some fresh grapes was served. It was truly delicious. Konstanz is famous for its produce due to its excellent climate.
I expected the main dish to be even tastier. My hope was dashed. No noodle showed up but in its place a bowl of sticky gooey cocoon-like “pasta.” No, it was not shell pasta. Had we chosen to finish the entire bowl of this sticky dish we’d still be in Konstanz. B and I ate as much as we could it in total silence. Every time, the greeter brother showed up to check, I nodded my head pleasantly, flashed a smile even as my eyeballs were sinking in their sockets, and said, “Bellassimo!’ He was delighted to hear this, and in turn flashing a broad smile of his own, revealed through hand gestures that it was his mama’s recipe from yore. I don’t know what I’d have done to his mother had I met her. We left quite a bit of the cocoons in the bowl—I rarely waste--and waited for the dessert (I knew dessert was included). It was a mango sauce topped custard, classy-looking and only mildly sweet, which normally is not to my taste. As we began our dessert it began to drizzle mildly. We took our dessert inside, finished it and then went for a stroll. The mall security (the shops were closed) managed to direct us to the church (Konstanz Munster) I had heard so much about. Along the way, were many restaurants including an American restaurant and an Irish Pub with menus in English. In the last few days, the value of English had gone up for me multi-fold.
The streets were quiet, traffic was sparse, the night was young, and the light on-off unobtrusive drizzle made it all very romantic. I checked the prices of items in the shop windows and found some fashion sandals reasonably priced. I planned on shopping the next morning but this didn’t happen as our train was at 9:03 to Zurich. We took a leisurely stroll toward the church. A couple of ice cream places (gelatarias) were open for business and a few stragglers straggled in.
The 7th century Konstanz Munster (Cathedral) looked serene and regal. In the lit glass case on its outside wall were a number of announcements and flyers in German. Only next day it would have been possible to climb to the top to take in a view which apparently on a clear day stretched for miles which in our case was not to be as we had to catch our train to Zurich. Interesting fact: Because it almost lies within Switzerland, directly adjacent to the Swiss border, Konstanz was not bombed by the Allied Forces during World War II. The city left all its lights on at night, and thus fooled the bombers into thinking it was actually part of Switzerland.
May 23
Bright and early, we got ready by 7 a.m., packed our stuff, and went for a stroll toward the Bodensee (Lake Constance) passing by the train station. The lake was massive and at the end of the pier was the ever so slowly rotating massive statue of Imperia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imperia_(statue). The previous day, had we taken the katamaran from Friedrichstein or a boat from Meersburg from the northern side of the lake this is the harbor where we would have docked. We saw a few early commuters headed toward to the tethered boats. Soon we returned to our hotel, had a hearty breakfast topped by freshly brewed coffee, freshly squeezed OJ, etc., collected our luggage and headed toward the station. I made sure to use the conveyor belts for luggage.
Once we were on the train, within seconds we were in Switzerland. Looking at the emerald green pastures, the first words out of B’s mouth were: The Swiss got very lucky!
After about an hour and 20minutes of rolling hills and not particularly attractive residential buildings, we reached Zurich. There was a treat for us at the massive station though the first thing that hit me the moment I hit the platform was the annoying cigarette smoke. This forced me to quicken my steps. The treat was the food market open only on Wednesdays just being set up as we arrived at the main level. The first thing we did was to deposit our luggage in the appropriate sized 6 franc locker after changing our euros to Swiss francs, we headed to the Tourist Office. We got a map and some info on the riverboat. We were told that because of the shallow water level in River Limmet, riverboats were not plying that day but the tours of Lake Zurich were still on. We decided to walk up to the dock located at the end of Bahnstrasse. It was pouring outside. Though we had our raincoats on, we decided not step out yet but instead went to a McDonald’s inside the station and got some coffee and used their restroom and then strolled through the wonderful market sampling some fabulous chocolate concoctions. We planned on having lunch here later, which we did. Soon, the rain let up and with map in our hand we began our stroll. There were watch stores galore with many overly ostentatious watches gracing the showcases. The prices were equally ugly. We didn’t go inside any of them but still surprised to see not a single cuckoo clock in sight anywhere. Only at the station, in one ordinary souvenir shop I spotted one single garish-looking one. I felt lucky that I had bought mine in Fuessen. Even this was serendipity! While having lunch, had I not heard the cuckoo sound, I wouldn’t have known about the store attached to the restaurant selling cuckoo clocks. This incident confirmed my belief that no matter what the circumstances, what is yours somehow finds you.
At the dock, we found out that indeed there were no riverboats that day. So, we decided to walk along the river covered with covered boats and floating by swans. A more spectacular river front view would be unimaginable. Oh, what a glorious skyline and walk it was! Couldn’t have asked for better weather either. Though sunlight was sweeping over the vast vista, the streets were still rain-soaked and my red color on canvas shoes began to run leaving my feet stained for the next couple of days. My feet looked sexy as if they were henna-ed. After lunch, we covered the old town, the roof top-sized Linderhof Park where the three oversized chess boards one of which was being used by two older men (http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WMAAP7_Linderhof_Park_Chess_Zurich_Switzerland). A younger spectator offered us the second board. We were not in the mood nor had the time. A massive chest held the oversized chess pieces. I had expected a giant chess board but never mind. The grand rooftop-view of Zurich from the park more than made up for this minor disappointment. A must read: http://www.expert-chess-strategies.com/who-invented-chess.html.
Our plan was to pick up some sandwiches for dinner on the train to Paris from the Coop near the station. So we got down the sloping medieval steps of Linderhof Park, resumed our walking through Old Town and along and across the bridges and rested our feet on a bench at the triangular corner, an excellent viewing spot to absorb the fascinating, multi vehicle (cars, buses, bikes, trams), ridden multi-signpost roads. Then we went over to the Coop and bought ourselves a couple of sandwiches, yogurts, some mini muffins, and fruits (in all the places we had gone so far, we had easy access to fruits, which was a blessing) for our journey in the next hour.
Once we got into our first-class compartment, we were informed by the extremely friendly chef that we’d be served dinner. It seemed like only some folks had earned this privilege. In our case, maybe because we were pass holders? Anyway, as the train rolled by through luscious countryside, we were wined and dined. Hmmm, some good karma I thought. We ate our own sandwiches the next day in Paris in our apartment.
Yep, Zurich is a place I wouldn’t mind returning to. Though we spent just about six hours, they were six memorable. B tried recalling his time in Zurich as a youngster that he spent along with his parents.
Ciao!
Our friendly Italian host in Konstanz greeted us at our B&B Wiesentäler Hof Hotel garni, a corner building at the meeting pint of two cobble stone lanes. We couldn’t wait to get into our room and freshen up. What a day it had been! The room was comfy with a large floor-to-ceiling window facing a residential building and on the third floor. After unpacking quickly and freshening up, we came down and decided to dine right at the B&B’s La Cucina restaurant.
The co-owner who spoke very little English just like his greeting brother earlier, who spoke even less English, somehow understood our vegetarian needs and explained in many different ways in Italian mainly the special dinner he could whip up for us for just 15 euros apiece, which was 20 euros off the regular price because “I slept with him,” he said. I think B was scandalized. What the brother meant was we were guests at his B&B. Noodle was mentioned and so we assumed that we’d get some nice noodle pasta. How could one go wrong with this offering? When he mentioned pepperoni, I vehemently objected to it to which he responded, “No pepperoni?’ It occurred to me he meant pepper and I was right.
We took seats at a table on the sidewalk outside La Cucina and tokk in the street scene, which consisted of a few slow moving cars, a few people walking their dogs, and a fashionably dressed strolling couple. It was a quiet corner with just the two of us diners. Soon after the wine we had ordered arrived, the first course, a nice salad with sauted mushrooms, peeled onion marinated in vinegar, roasted strips of yellow pepper and some fresh grapes was served. It was truly delicious. Konstanz is famous for its produce due to its excellent climate.
I expected the main dish to be even tastier. My hope was dashed. No noodle showed up but in its place a bowl of sticky gooey cocoon-like “pasta.” No, it was not shell pasta. Had we chosen to finish the entire bowl of this sticky dish we’d still be in Konstanz. B and I ate as much as we could it in total silence. Every time, the greeter brother showed up to check, I nodded my head pleasantly, flashed a smile even as my eyeballs were sinking in their sockets, and said, “Bellassimo!’ He was delighted to hear this, and in turn flashing a broad smile of his own, revealed through hand gestures that it was his mama’s recipe from yore. I don’t know what I’d have done to his mother had I met her. We left quite a bit of the cocoons in the bowl—I rarely waste--and waited for the dessert (I knew dessert was included). It was a mango sauce topped custard, classy-looking and only mildly sweet, which normally is not to my taste. As we began our dessert it began to drizzle mildly. We took our dessert inside, finished it and then went for a stroll. The mall security (the shops were closed) managed to direct us to the church (Konstanz Munster) I had heard so much about. Along the way, were many restaurants including an American restaurant and an Irish Pub with menus in English. In the last few days, the value of English had gone up for me multi-fold.
The streets were quiet, traffic was sparse, the night was young, and the light on-off unobtrusive drizzle made it all very romantic. I checked the prices of items in the shop windows and found some fashion sandals reasonably priced. I planned on shopping the next morning but this didn’t happen as our train was at 9:03 to Zurich. We took a leisurely stroll toward the church. A couple of ice cream places (gelatarias) were open for business and a few stragglers straggled in.
The 7th century Konstanz Munster (Cathedral) looked serene and regal. In the lit glass case on its outside wall were a number of announcements and flyers in German. Only next day it would have been possible to climb to the top to take in a view which apparently on a clear day stretched for miles which in our case was not to be as we had to catch our train to Zurich. Interesting fact: Because it almost lies within Switzerland, directly adjacent to the Swiss border, Konstanz was not bombed by the Allied Forces during World War II. The city left all its lights on at night, and thus fooled the bombers into thinking it was actually part of Switzerland.
May 23
Bright and early, we got ready by 7 a.m., packed our stuff, and went for a stroll toward the Bodensee (Lake Constance) passing by the train station. The lake was massive and at the end of the pier was the ever so slowly rotating massive statue of Imperia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imperia_(statue). The previous day, had we taken the katamaran from Friedrichstein or a boat from Meersburg from the northern side of the lake this is the harbor where we would have docked. We saw a few early commuters headed toward to the tethered boats. Soon we returned to our hotel, had a hearty breakfast topped by freshly brewed coffee, freshly squeezed OJ, etc., collected our luggage and headed toward the station. I made sure to use the conveyor belts for luggage.
Once we were on the train, within seconds we were in Switzerland. Looking at the emerald green pastures, the first words out of B’s mouth were: The Swiss got very lucky!
After about an hour and 20minutes of rolling hills and not particularly attractive residential buildings, we reached Zurich. There was a treat for us at the massive station though the first thing that hit me the moment I hit the platform was the annoying cigarette smoke. This forced me to quicken my steps. The treat was the food market open only on Wednesdays just being set up as we arrived at the main level. The first thing we did was to deposit our luggage in the appropriate sized 6 franc locker after changing our euros to Swiss francs, we headed to the Tourist Office. We got a map and some info on the riverboat. We were told that because of the shallow water level in River Limmet, riverboats were not plying that day but the tours of Lake Zurich were still on. We decided to walk up to the dock located at the end of Bahnstrasse. It was pouring outside. Though we had our raincoats on, we decided not step out yet but instead went to a McDonald’s inside the station and got some coffee and used their restroom and then strolled through the wonderful market sampling some fabulous chocolate concoctions. We planned on having lunch here later, which we did. Soon, the rain let up and with map in our hand we began our stroll. There were watch stores galore with many overly ostentatious watches gracing the showcases. The prices were equally ugly. We didn’t go inside any of them but still surprised to see not a single cuckoo clock in sight anywhere. Only at the station, in one ordinary souvenir shop I spotted one single garish-looking one. I felt lucky that I had bought mine in Fuessen. Even this was serendipity! While having lunch, had I not heard the cuckoo sound, I wouldn’t have known about the store attached to the restaurant selling cuckoo clocks. This incident confirmed my belief that no matter what the circumstances, what is yours somehow finds you.
At the dock, we found out that indeed there were no riverboats that day. So, we decided to walk along the river covered with covered boats and floating by swans. A more spectacular river front view would be unimaginable. Oh, what a glorious skyline and walk it was! Couldn’t have asked for better weather either. Though sunlight was sweeping over the vast vista, the streets were still rain-soaked and my red color on canvas shoes began to run leaving my feet stained for the next couple of days. My feet looked sexy as if they were henna-ed. After lunch, we covered the old town, the roof top-sized Linderhof Park where the three oversized chess boards one of which was being used by two older men (http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WMAAP7_Linderhof_Park_Chess_Zurich_Switzerland). A younger spectator offered us the second board. We were not in the mood nor had the time. A massive chest held the oversized chess pieces. I had expected a giant chess board but never mind. The grand rooftop-view of Zurich from the park more than made up for this minor disappointment. A must read: http://www.expert-chess-strategies.com/who-invented-chess.html.
Our plan was to pick up some sandwiches for dinner on the train to Paris from the Coop near the station. So we got down the sloping medieval steps of Linderhof Park, resumed our walking through Old Town and along and across the bridges and rested our feet on a bench at the triangular corner, an excellent viewing spot to absorb the fascinating, multi vehicle (cars, buses, bikes, trams), ridden multi-signpost roads. Then we went over to the Coop and bought ourselves a couple of sandwiches, yogurts, some mini muffins, and fruits (in all the places we had gone so far, we had easy access to fruits, which was a blessing) for our journey in the next hour.
Once we got into our first-class compartment, we were informed by the extremely friendly chef that we’d be served dinner. It seemed like only some folks had earned this privilege. In our case, maybe because we were pass holders? Anyway, as the train rolled by through luscious countryside, we were wined and dined. Hmmm, some good karma I thought. We ate our own sandwiches the next day in Paris in our apartment.
Yep, Zurich is a place I wouldn’t mind returning to. Though we spent just about six hours, they were six memorable. B tried recalling his time in Zurich as a youngster that he spent along with his parents.
Ciao!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Spring 2012: Europe, Part 4 of 4
May 23-28
On May 23, four hours and twelve minutes after leaving Zurich the train pulled into the Paris’s Gare de Lyon at 9:37 p.m. We knew we had to take Metro No.1 to Concorde and then change to No.12 to get to Jules Joffrin our stop. But at Gare de Lyon, when we went first to the info booth and then the ticket booth, we could not make ourselves be understood by either of the attendants there. The second one’s attitude also seemed a bit haughty. One question we had was what kind of a ticket would be appropriate for us considering we were staying for five days in Paris and our plan was also to take the Metro to Charles de Gaulle airport on the 28th. We decided to move to yet another booth where an agent of African descent knew English and was also friendly. He explained that the ticket to the airport was not covered by the Metro ticket. He advised us to buy a twelve-ticket Metro pass, which we did and it served us well till the 27th. On the 28th, we decided to take the Roissy Bus to the airport leaving from the Opera House. To get here we had to take the Metro from Jules Joffrin, which cost us 1.70 euro each.
As mentioned before, on 23rd night, we stayed at Le Montclaire Hostel which though not the ideal place for us turned out to be a boon in some ways. For one thing, I had befriended the English-speaking staff at the front desk to whom I returned several times in the next few days I stayed in the neighborhood for various kinds of tourist info. Secondly, on 26th morning, as guests of the hostel we got a two-hour free guided walking tour of Mont Martre, the historic neighborhood.
On the 24th morning, right after an early breakfast at the hostel, I phoned Bernard the owner of our rented apartment across the street around 8:15 a.m. to inquire about when we could check in. The official time was 3 p.m. We were lucky that the previous guests had already left and Bernard said that we could check in at 9:30. I was elated. This gave us just enough time to pack our carryons and mosey over to our apartment building.
Bernard was a “sweetheart” and he met us at the door, showed us how to open the door by swiping the magnetic side of a small rubber pad on the key chain and then took us to our apartment with a view of the Sacre Coeur. Everything in the apartment was spic and span and the sunlight was pouring in from every direction. Because Rue de Hermel was a long narrow street, looking down from the 6th floor made the street look like a deep canyon and indeed it turned out to be an echo chamber. This prevented us from keeping the windows open at night even as the cool breeze was a welcome aspect. Ultimately, on the third night, we kept the main large window a crack open and we still slept just fine.
After Bernard gave us his W-Fi password, and explained a few other things, not that all that info got into our head, and left, we freshened up and left for Anvers station which is where the Hop-off-Hop-on tourist bus was to be boarded. We paid 31 euros each. I didn’t think we got our money’s worth, mainly because we started our tour late and some buses ended their route early and this was not clearly stated on the brochure. Nonetheless, without the bus, we could not have covered all the major spots in Paris, some of which we revisited on our own on the 27th.
Paris is a grand city steeped in history as we all know well. After covering the grand cathedral de Notre Dame, we had lunch (pizza and beer) at an Italian restaurant across from the Arc de Triomphe. The grand wide Champs-Elysees was teeming with people. It reminded me of Raj Path in Delhi flanked by the mighty India Gate and the imposing Raj Bhavan the president’s residence. Of course, either side of the Champs is stores and restaurants galore. On either side of Raj Path are massive pink government buildings and two boathouses. I don’t know its present status. My memories are from my childhood.
Followed by a long wait made bearable by people watching and observing other interesting phenomena such as the delivery man rushing in with a large bag spilling with baguettes, after lunch, we went to the Arc, circled around it and paid our respects to the tomb of the Unknown Soldier and hopped back on the bus at the next stop. Our next hop-off was the Eiffel Tower. We stood on line for a short while. The line crawled and we decided to skip going up the tower. While waiting, we were entertained by a guy in a funny mask sneaking up to passers by and starling them making the moment candid-camera worthy.
Eventually, missing the closing time at Rodin Museum, missing our last bus, we walked back from the Opera House to Jules Joffrin, referring to our map constantly, and checking with people along the way. One youngish-looking guy across from the famous Maxim’s Restaurant which is where we started our walk from apologized in halted English that he was not a Parisian but was from Brittany, nonetheless helped us with our map. As we walked, we experienced the lively Paris street life dominated by crowded and narrow sidewalk eating and drinking and chatters. Along the way saw free public toilets with a water faucet on the outside wall that dispensed potable water. The next day, I also discovered small fountains for this purpose like in Italy and Munich where running water dispensers were often shaped like an animal’s face.
On the way, we bought some cheese, bread, milk, fruits, mayo, soup, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, chips, wine, etc. and carrying the heavy load walked the rest of the short distance back home half-dead. Too much hunger led to overeating but soon we hit the bed and slept the sleep of the dead.
Next day, we hit the road by 9 a.m., and took the train to Versailles: http://en.chateauversailles.fr/the-palace- We booked an English guided tour for 28 euros which was well worth it. Our smart and sweet guide Agatha was well-informed and the palace was awe inspiring even as I kept hearing the chopping sound of the guillotine in my head. We learned from Agatha that on Friday’s the Louvre was probably open till nine at night. On our way back to the train station, we stopped by at the tourist office, and indeed the Louvre stayed open late that night. Bingo, not wanting to wait on line at the Louvre we paid a few extra bucks and bought our tickets at the tourist office. Later, we saw hardly any line at the Louvre. It was not peak tourist season yet I guess
After returning to Paris, and eating a quick lunch, we went to the Louvre around 4:30 and stayed there till 9:45, the closing time. The audio guide is a bit complicated but once you figure out how with help from the audio desk (again you have to be lucky to find someone who is comfortable with English). I discovered Hammurabi’s Code only at at closing time. I was not allowed to linger to take any picture of this pillar. Then again, in this day and age of YouTube, and other social media, a tourist can quite easily dispense with a camera. I have a feeling all these images are posted by the tourists from the Orient, whom I noticed, on many instances never turned off their video cameras. They simply walked along with camera in hand capturing the images continuously. I even saw an Indian do this. Apparently, one needs three years to cover the Louvre, at the rate of 3 seconds for each display 24/7.
I used my camera for Mona Lisa, Venus di Milo, Hermaphrodite: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borghese_Hermaphroditusand and the hall itself where this languishing figure is housed. http://theotherparis.net/hotspots/louvre2.htm and the wedding at Cana across from Mona Lisa. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wedding_at_Cana.
On our way back, we bought some pistachio ice cream and a couple of other items and had dinner at the apartment.
Next morning, we walked to Anvers, again, which is where we met Alex, our lanky cheerful articulate New Zealander Montmartre tour guide. There were quite a few of us in the group. Along the way, Alex invited even more folks to join in. His earnings depended upon the generosity of those in his tour.
It was quite an educational experience. www.aparisguide.com/montmartre/index.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montmartre. We covered the Sacre Coeur, the amazing view of Paris from the top, the statue of the martyr St. Denis and an accompanying miracle story, Le Bateau Lavoir: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Bateau-Lavoir, the artists’ square, one of the two remaining windmills with a tragic story of its own: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moulin_de_la_Galette, the famous singer Dalida’s-- the Madonna of her day--tragic life story: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dalida as told by Alex in gripping detail enhanced by dramatic hand gestures, who later for ”good luck” rubbed the worn breasts on Dalida’s bronze bust. Apparently, once a year those breasts get re-polished. Sadly enough, she had brought only bad luck to the men in her life. Then, the house on Rue Lepic where Van Gogh lived which is now owned by a Japanese, the small ”celebrated” vineyard, the only one in Paris, Le Clos Montmartre that every October auctions off 1000 or so bottles of wine the money raised thus used for charity. Near this plot,on a wall is a "space invader's" tile. Alex declared that this phantom artist was not him. When Alex talked about Van Gogh’s failure after failure in life and finally his last words, “sadness will last forever,” Alex seemed to be on the verge of tears. The pain he felt for Van Gogh seemed much too personal.
It was close to lunch time but still on our way back to the apartment for lunch, we made a detour to Gare de Nord to get info on a day-trip to Strasbourg the next day. The station looked chaotic. It turned out we would have had to stand on line and speak to a DB attendant. I suggested to B to get going with his lunch while I procured the necessary info. Earlier, I had found out that all seats to Strasbourg were booked. I felt foolish not booking ours in New York. Had been too busy and also wanted to keep the option open. But because we had covered a lot in Paris already, now the temptation to take this 2-hour, near-free trip to Strasbourg was strong.
The second time around on the line, I was willing to take a day-trip in any direction. English speakers had to wait for an English-speaking attendant to be available. This was frustrating. Finally, when my turn came, a youngish Arab-looking man, maybe in his 30’s, who spoke no French and very little English, came up to the person at the counter behind the glass partition and began to almost wail. He was apparently at the wrong station and his train was scheduled to leave in the next half-hour. A second attendant assured him that she would help if he would wait. Up to a point, I was sympathetic to him but when he seemed to become willful, I had to get assertive and make my own business at hand a priority. Anyway, ultimately, no one-day trip worked out. I was told that this was a long weekend in France also and everybody was leaving Paris in all directions. Disappointed, I left and headed back home. Only on the next day, I realized that there was so much more to see in Paris and we took full advantage of this blessing in disguise.
After a slightly sub-standard lunch--the cuke pieces were diced rather than sliced (it was a rude revelation that B’s strength was not making sandwiches), climbing the 300 steps on Rue Foyatier, we returned to Dali Museum, located near the artists’ square, which was quite a treat. His anamorphic work where a nondescript drawing on a flat surface turns into an insect on a reflective cylindrical surface blew my mind away. Dali himself was fascinated with this phenomenon. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anamorphosis.
After enjoying some outdoor entertainment offered by musicians and trained dancers and tourists bursting into spontaneous dancing, we retired earlier than usual, returned home, and after dinner, tried planning the activities for the next day our last day in Paris. Next day, we covered Jardin du Luxembourg, where we were treated to fabulous drumming organized by an organization devoted to autistic children (some of the young drummers themselves seemed to be autistic) and music by a big band, the Latin Quarters, an interesting Antiques Show, The Sarbonne (on my resume I plan to say that I've been to Sarbonne:)), The Pantheon just from the outside (a tourist behind me told his wife--partner--that they should go back to their hotel room and read all about it), the Bastille, a long stroll along the Seine, a boat ride on the Seine, Jardine des Tuileries attached to the Louvre, the Revolutionary Square for the 2nd time, the and then as it got cooler, strolled down the Champs Elysees up to the Arc, sat there for a while watching the multitude and then returned home.
Next day, we checked out at 11:00 a.m. and were on our way back to New York.
The following weekend, I found out that as part of the New York State’s Museum Week promo, we could visit certain places right in New York for free. On Saturday, we took in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and the Brooklyn Museum two must see places in our own backyard.
When I stepped out at Penn Station which I have done thousands of times before I tried to figure out what about New York enchants outsiders (so many people, including Agatha at Versailles are “wowed” by New York) and what struck me most was New York’s sizzle. Next time, you’re in the city, check out those eye-popping electronic billboards.
Ciao for now!
On May 23, four hours and twelve minutes after leaving Zurich the train pulled into the Paris’s Gare de Lyon at 9:37 p.m. We knew we had to take Metro No.1 to Concorde and then change to No.12 to get to Jules Joffrin our stop. But at Gare de Lyon, when we went first to the info booth and then the ticket booth, we could not make ourselves be understood by either of the attendants there. The second one’s attitude also seemed a bit haughty. One question we had was what kind of a ticket would be appropriate for us considering we were staying for five days in Paris and our plan was also to take the Metro to Charles de Gaulle airport on the 28th. We decided to move to yet another booth where an agent of African descent knew English and was also friendly. He explained that the ticket to the airport was not covered by the Metro ticket. He advised us to buy a twelve-ticket Metro pass, which we did and it served us well till the 27th. On the 28th, we decided to take the Roissy Bus to the airport leaving from the Opera House. To get here we had to take the Metro from Jules Joffrin, which cost us 1.70 euro each.
As mentioned before, on 23rd night, we stayed at Le Montclaire Hostel which though not the ideal place for us turned out to be a boon in some ways. For one thing, I had befriended the English-speaking staff at the front desk to whom I returned several times in the next few days I stayed in the neighborhood for various kinds of tourist info. Secondly, on 26th morning, as guests of the hostel we got a two-hour free guided walking tour of Mont Martre, the historic neighborhood.
On the 24th morning, right after an early breakfast at the hostel, I phoned Bernard the owner of our rented apartment across the street around 8:15 a.m. to inquire about when we could check in. The official time was 3 p.m. We were lucky that the previous guests had already left and Bernard said that we could check in at 9:30. I was elated. This gave us just enough time to pack our carryons and mosey over to our apartment building.
Bernard was a “sweetheart” and he met us at the door, showed us how to open the door by swiping the magnetic side of a small rubber pad on the key chain and then took us to our apartment with a view of the Sacre Coeur. Everything in the apartment was spic and span and the sunlight was pouring in from every direction. Because Rue de Hermel was a long narrow street, looking down from the 6th floor made the street look like a deep canyon and indeed it turned out to be an echo chamber. This prevented us from keeping the windows open at night even as the cool breeze was a welcome aspect. Ultimately, on the third night, we kept the main large window a crack open and we still slept just fine.
After Bernard gave us his W-Fi password, and explained a few other things, not that all that info got into our head, and left, we freshened up and left for Anvers station which is where the Hop-off-Hop-on tourist bus was to be boarded. We paid 31 euros each. I didn’t think we got our money’s worth, mainly because we started our tour late and some buses ended their route early and this was not clearly stated on the brochure. Nonetheless, without the bus, we could not have covered all the major spots in Paris, some of which we revisited on our own on the 27th.
Paris is a grand city steeped in history as we all know well. After covering the grand cathedral de Notre Dame, we had lunch (pizza and beer) at an Italian restaurant across from the Arc de Triomphe. The grand wide Champs-Elysees was teeming with people. It reminded me of Raj Path in Delhi flanked by the mighty India Gate and the imposing Raj Bhavan the president’s residence. Of course, either side of the Champs is stores and restaurants galore. On either side of Raj Path are massive pink government buildings and two boathouses. I don’t know its present status. My memories are from my childhood.
Followed by a long wait made bearable by people watching and observing other interesting phenomena such as the delivery man rushing in with a large bag spilling with baguettes, after lunch, we went to the Arc, circled around it and paid our respects to the tomb of the Unknown Soldier and hopped back on the bus at the next stop. Our next hop-off was the Eiffel Tower. We stood on line for a short while. The line crawled and we decided to skip going up the tower. While waiting, we were entertained by a guy in a funny mask sneaking up to passers by and starling them making the moment candid-camera worthy.
Eventually, missing the closing time at Rodin Museum, missing our last bus, we walked back from the Opera House to Jules Joffrin, referring to our map constantly, and checking with people along the way. One youngish-looking guy across from the famous Maxim’s Restaurant which is where we started our walk from apologized in halted English that he was not a Parisian but was from Brittany, nonetheless helped us with our map. As we walked, we experienced the lively Paris street life dominated by crowded and narrow sidewalk eating and drinking and chatters. Along the way saw free public toilets with a water faucet on the outside wall that dispensed potable water. The next day, I also discovered small fountains for this purpose like in Italy and Munich where running water dispensers were often shaped like an animal’s face.
On the way, we bought some cheese, bread, milk, fruits, mayo, soup, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, chips, wine, etc. and carrying the heavy load walked the rest of the short distance back home half-dead. Too much hunger led to overeating but soon we hit the bed and slept the sleep of the dead.
Next day, we hit the road by 9 a.m., and took the train to Versailles: http://en.chateauversailles.fr/the-palace- We booked an English guided tour for 28 euros which was well worth it. Our smart and sweet guide Agatha was well-informed and the palace was awe inspiring even as I kept hearing the chopping sound of the guillotine in my head. We learned from Agatha that on Friday’s the Louvre was probably open till nine at night. On our way back to the train station, we stopped by at the tourist office, and indeed the Louvre stayed open late that night. Bingo, not wanting to wait on line at the Louvre we paid a few extra bucks and bought our tickets at the tourist office. Later, we saw hardly any line at the Louvre. It was not peak tourist season yet I guess
After returning to Paris, and eating a quick lunch, we went to the Louvre around 4:30 and stayed there till 9:45, the closing time. The audio guide is a bit complicated but once you figure out how with help from the audio desk (again you have to be lucky to find someone who is comfortable with English). I discovered Hammurabi’s Code only at at closing time. I was not allowed to linger to take any picture of this pillar. Then again, in this day and age of YouTube, and other social media, a tourist can quite easily dispense with a camera. I have a feeling all these images are posted by the tourists from the Orient, whom I noticed, on many instances never turned off their video cameras. They simply walked along with camera in hand capturing the images continuously. I even saw an Indian do this. Apparently, one needs three years to cover the Louvre, at the rate of 3 seconds for each display 24/7.
I used my camera for Mona Lisa, Venus di Milo, Hermaphrodite: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borghese_Hermaphroditusand and the hall itself where this languishing figure is housed. http://theotherparis.net/hotspots/louvre2.htm and the wedding at Cana across from Mona Lisa. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wedding_at_Cana.
On our way back, we bought some pistachio ice cream and a couple of other items and had dinner at the apartment.
Next morning, we walked to Anvers, again, which is where we met Alex, our lanky cheerful articulate New Zealander Montmartre tour guide. There were quite a few of us in the group. Along the way, Alex invited even more folks to join in. His earnings depended upon the generosity of those in his tour.
It was quite an educational experience. www.aparisguide.com/montmartre/index.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montmartre. We covered the Sacre Coeur, the amazing view of Paris from the top, the statue of the martyr St. Denis and an accompanying miracle story, Le Bateau Lavoir: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Bateau-Lavoir, the artists’ square, one of the two remaining windmills with a tragic story of its own: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moulin_de_la_Galette, the famous singer Dalida’s-- the Madonna of her day--tragic life story: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dalida as told by Alex in gripping detail enhanced by dramatic hand gestures, who later for ”good luck” rubbed the worn breasts on Dalida’s bronze bust. Apparently, once a year those breasts get re-polished. Sadly enough, she had brought only bad luck to the men in her life. Then, the house on Rue Lepic where Van Gogh lived which is now owned by a Japanese, the small ”celebrated” vineyard, the only one in Paris, Le Clos Montmartre that every October auctions off 1000 or so bottles of wine the money raised thus used for charity. Near this plot,on a wall is a "space invader's" tile. Alex declared that this phantom artist was not him. When Alex talked about Van Gogh’s failure after failure in life and finally his last words, “sadness will last forever,” Alex seemed to be on the verge of tears. The pain he felt for Van Gogh seemed much too personal.
It was close to lunch time but still on our way back to the apartment for lunch, we made a detour to Gare de Nord to get info on a day-trip to Strasbourg the next day. The station looked chaotic. It turned out we would have had to stand on line and speak to a DB attendant. I suggested to B to get going with his lunch while I procured the necessary info. Earlier, I had found out that all seats to Strasbourg were booked. I felt foolish not booking ours in New York. Had been too busy and also wanted to keep the option open. But because we had covered a lot in Paris already, now the temptation to take this 2-hour, near-free trip to Strasbourg was strong.
The second time around on the line, I was willing to take a day-trip in any direction. English speakers had to wait for an English-speaking attendant to be available. This was frustrating. Finally, when my turn came, a youngish Arab-looking man, maybe in his 30’s, who spoke no French and very little English, came up to the person at the counter behind the glass partition and began to almost wail. He was apparently at the wrong station and his train was scheduled to leave in the next half-hour. A second attendant assured him that she would help if he would wait. Up to a point, I was sympathetic to him but when he seemed to become willful, I had to get assertive and make my own business at hand a priority. Anyway, ultimately, no one-day trip worked out. I was told that this was a long weekend in France also and everybody was leaving Paris in all directions. Disappointed, I left and headed back home. Only on the next day, I realized that there was so much more to see in Paris and we took full advantage of this blessing in disguise.
After a slightly sub-standard lunch--the cuke pieces were diced rather than sliced (it was a rude revelation that B’s strength was not making sandwiches), climbing the 300 steps on Rue Foyatier, we returned to Dali Museum, located near the artists’ square, which was quite a treat. His anamorphic work where a nondescript drawing on a flat surface turns into an insect on a reflective cylindrical surface blew my mind away. Dali himself was fascinated with this phenomenon. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anamorphosis.
After enjoying some outdoor entertainment offered by musicians and trained dancers and tourists bursting into spontaneous dancing, we retired earlier than usual, returned home, and after dinner, tried planning the activities for the next day our last day in Paris. Next day, we covered Jardin du Luxembourg, where we were treated to fabulous drumming organized by an organization devoted to autistic children (some of the young drummers themselves seemed to be autistic) and music by a big band, the Latin Quarters, an interesting Antiques Show, The Sarbonne (on my resume I plan to say that I've been to Sarbonne:)), The Pantheon just from the outside (a tourist behind me told his wife--partner--that they should go back to their hotel room and read all about it), the Bastille, a long stroll along the Seine, a boat ride on the Seine, Jardine des Tuileries attached to the Louvre, the Revolutionary Square for the 2nd time, the and then as it got cooler, strolled down the Champs Elysees up to the Arc, sat there for a while watching the multitude and then returned home.
Next day, we checked out at 11:00 a.m. and were on our way back to New York.
The following weekend, I found out that as part of the New York State’s Museum Week promo, we could visit certain places right in New York for free. On Saturday, we took in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and the Brooklyn Museum two must see places in our own backyard.
When I stepped out at Penn Station which I have done thousands of times before I tried to figure out what about New York enchants outsiders (so many people, including Agatha at Versailles are “wowed” by New York) and what struck me most was New York’s sizzle. Next time, you’re in the city, check out those eye-popping electronic billboards.
Ciao for now!
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