Je suis de retour, France!

The French Riviera has been so romanticized in art, literature and cinema, that I was almost afraid that the sheer weight of expectations would lead to disappointment. Fortunately, Cote d'Azur, or the Turquoise coast not only met, but surpassed my hopes. One only needs to take a stroll along the Promenade des Anglais (the beach) to realize the beauty of the azure waters, the clear blue skies and to revel in the spirit of the Riviera. Little wonder then, that Englishmen of yore would jump at an opportunity to holiday in this blissful haven, away from the incessant drizzles and gruff coldness of the English weather. The cheerful locals, ever willing to help a confused tourist, the lively restaurant district and the pretty-as-a picture shores of the Mediterranean sea were just a few of the things that made Nice a fantastic destination. We walked along the Promenade on to Place Garibaldi, the square dedicated to the architect of Italy's unification. A native of Nice, Garibaldi  was unable to claim Nice for Italy, with the Sardinian king ceding it to France in return for aid in the unification wars.

We set out north along the Cote d'Azur the following morning, taking a bus to Monaco. Looking out of the window from the bus, one is treated to a succession of visual delights that make the landscape of southern France picture postcard-perfect. We reached Monaco around noon, did a quick walking tour of the main sights: the shopping area, parks and the Monte Carlo casino, before retracing to the village of Eze.

If Nice is the Queen of the Riviera, Eze is the crown jewel!  Eze stretched out from the Mediterranean sea, up a hill to a fortress-like village, topped off by a unique garden of giant cacti, appropriately named "Jardin Exotique" or Exotic Garden, for the exotic nature of its flora, as well as the breath-taking views from the cliff.  Walking up the village to the hilltop was a fantastic experience, with each trail leading up to a art gallery or a restaurant or craft boutique. Close to the summit was a church, believed to be on the site of an Egyptian temple dedicated to Isis. The garden was everything it was promised to be.

A garden in the sky

The panoramic views of the mountainside amidst the clear blue skies made this garden a window to the Riviera.  Abstract sculptures of ancient goddesses rubbed shoulders with giant cacti , lending an ethereal quality to the environs. The turquoise waters met the bright blue of the heavens in a horizon that seemed close enough to touch, giving one the heady feeling that one was walking on a garden in the very sky. A truly wonderful place in which to spend one's birthday!

We set out for Paris the next day, to complete our circuit of the world's most chic city. The first evening of Round 2 was spent aboard a cruise boat that took us along the River Seine, revealing the monuments of Paris by night. The commentary on the cruise was informative and enjoyable, explaining Paris as seen by the Seine herself.

After the narrative so far, it would be hard to believe that the highlight of the trip was yet to come; but so it was, for, on the cards for the next day was a trip to the Musee de Louvre.

The Louvre used to a palace of the French kings, and was used to house their collection of Greek and Roman sculpture once the king shifted base to Versailles. Between kings and curators, a magnificent collection has been built over the centuries, making the Louvre a lesson in art, history and culture. From ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt, to classical Greece and Rome, from Gothic ages to Renaissance, spanning regional, religious and cultural boundaries, almost every conceivable form of artistic expression known to mankind finds representation at the Louvre. The excellent tour itineraries and comprehensive audio guide commentaries helped us appreciate the splendour of the art, artifacts and sculpture on display.

Apart from the usual suspects such as Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, winged bulls of Mesopotamia, Code of Hammurabi, Venus de Milo and the Seated Scribe of Egypt, there were several others of note on display.

Volterra's two-sided painting, The Battle of David and Goliath, was rather unique, representing two views of the same scene, separated slightly in time, to represent the interval it takes to walk around the canvas to view the second scene.

Al-Mughira pyxis, an ivory box dating back to the Islamic period of Cordoba was unusual for its depiction of messages to prince Al Mughira, in the form of intricately crafted relief referencing Andalusian poetry.

French sculpture at Musee de Louvre

The French sculpture section was quite a revelation. While Renaissance sculptors (primarily from Italy) such as Michalangelo and Donatello are well-known, little is know of sculptors from France. Yet, French kings' love of classical Greece and Rome led them to patronize sculptors, who recreated heroes and gods of the ancient times in their work. Foremost among these sculptors were Puget and Marly. Two courtyards, named after these two sculptors, are filled with French sculpture, mainly of scenes from antiquity, and some of the French kings themselves.

Another revelation was Spanish painting, by masters such as Murillo and Goya.

After spending the entire day at the Louvre, starry-eyed with painting-gazing and weak-kneed from walking, we dragged ourselves out of its splendid halls, however unwillingly. It would take weeks, nay months, to do justice to the Louvre!

The Chateau d' Versailles was our next destination. The biggest draw in this impressive palace  was the Hall of Mirrors, where the Treaty of Versailles was signed, to end World War I. Walking into the large chamber, with mirrors on the left and windows overlooking the beautiful gardens in the right, one feels close to a piece of modern history.  

Would the triumphant allies,  looking out at the beautiful gardens, have sensed that peace with Germany was to be fleeting, and that another, mind-numbingly destructive war was less than twenty years away? Did the vanquished seethe at the punitive terms of the Treaty, and see nothing but humiliation on the ornate ceilings, on the famed mirrors, on everything they looked at?

Having drunk our fill of history, we headed back to Paris, in search of the less-frequented shopping locales. After this brief break into the contemporary, we headed back further down the lanes of history, to the site of Bastille, the infamous prison, the storming of which heralded the French Revolution, giving to France the slogan of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.

How the opulence of the Versailles Palace would have contrasted with the penury of the masses! What a downfall to the proud monarchy, for Louis XVI to be dragged in to what is now Place Concorde, to be guillotined as Citizen Capet! Those were the turbulent times that spawned timeless classics such as A Tale of Two Cities and The Scarlet Pimpernel.

All that remains of the Bastille are three foundation stones, which can be seen in the platform of the underground metro line 5. There is of course, the Bastille monument, with a winged angel holding the Torch of Liberty.

We came full circle on our cathedral trail by visiting St Germaine des Pres, the oldest church in Paris, predating Notre Dame, as well as  Cathdreal St. Sulpice, made famous by Dan Brown in Da Vinci Code. Place Sulpice with its beautiful fountain leading to the row of columns of the church was quite magnificent, as were the interiors and stained glass paintings of the church. A painting by Eugene Delacroix of a Biblical scene representing our struggle between our better selves (God) and baser tendencies was the last of the thousands of paintings that I had the pleasure of viewing on this journey.

As our trip hastened to a close, we spent the late morning soaking up Parisien life at Jardin Luxembourg. Paris has a profusion of parks, and this one is the most special of them all. That Friday afternoon, agile seniors rallied hard on the tennis court, with some relaxing around the octagonal pond, even as wizened old Frenchmen matched wits over rapid fire chess. School kids enjoying an afternoon off seemed to be having a good time, even as two bemused tourists revelled in the sights, over a picnic lunch of croissants and pain buerre. The afternoon was spent browsing though stores around the Jardin, followed by an evening stroll in the central islands and Hotel de Ville. To round off a typical Parisien day, we wound up at Moulin Rouge late evening, fitting into a crowd of tourists and locals celebrating in TGIF style.

With that, our fortnight-long vacation drew to a close. As I stepped out of the Liege metro station and headed towards the hotel one last time that still summer night, I bid Au revoir to France...until we meet again.

So long... And thanks for all the cheese!

Ola, Espana!

A mid-vacation break from hoity-toity Paris took us to Spain on the artistically named Franscesco de Goya, a tren-hotel bound for Madrid. We started off with Plaza Mayor with its multitude of restaurants and masqueraders and a rather friendly tourism office. We embarked upon one of the walking itineraries. The Calle de Arenal church with ornate brown-gold sculptures got us started, and we walked across to the Opera and the Royal Palace next. We followed this up with the neo- Gothic Almudena Cathedral, taking in a bird's eye view of the city from the cathedral dome.

The influence of Moorish and Islamic styles was evident in church architecture, with browns, deep maroons and golds dominating the decor as against snow white marble and elegant simplicity that is characteristic of churches in Italy and most of France.

Puerta del Sol was next with its bear and strawberry monument, the symbol of Madrid. We had just enough time to walk up to the famous Prado museum before heading back to the Train Station. Madrid struck us as a very grounded city after la belle France. We were to see more of Spain's earthy nature at Seville, our next port of call, in the Spanish principality of Andalusia.

The train journey from Madrid to Seville, took us across the Castile principality to the plains of Andalusia. The Anadalusian region was the amongst last to fall under Christian sway, following the defeat of the Islamic rulers of Spain in the Middle Ages. Known for its rich culture and traditions, Andalusia lost most of its Muslim legacy in the continuous spate of warring between the two religious groups. Its vast plains formed the setting for the famous novel The Adventures of Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes, a tale of an eccentric  gentleman who was so immersed in the chivalrous-romantic traditions of the old Andalusia, that he set out on journey filled with wholly imaginary dangers, adventures,  conquests and rescues. 

We reached Seville close to 2000hrs, amidst bright sunshine. It had the look of a bustling small town, in an endearingly unpretentious way. Not for Seville the airs of its former status as an important harbour, or for its current status as one of the residences of the Spanish royal family. Nor indeed, of being home to the one of the largest cathedrals in the world. The voices were louder and the accents warmer compared to the mellow murmurs that make up the French language. The French inhale their language in whispered music; the Spanish articulate theirs in singsong tones with just a hint of a middle Eastern flavour.

We set out to visit the Seville Cathedral and Alcazar Real (Royal Palace)  the following day, through the buzzing little streets reminiscent of Venice, manoeuvring horse carriages. The cathedral, as seemed to be the case with most in Andalusia, used to be the site of a mosque. Following the victory of the Christian rulers, the site of the mosque was used to build the (then) largest church. And what a splendid  church that was! Stretching over a vast area and housing a wealth of art and sculpture in multiple chapels, the cathedral was impressive. A recurring feature in Spanish churches is the large wooden structure behind the altar, known as a retablo, filled with intricate carvings of Biblical themes; Seville did not disappoint.

The Alcazar Real (Royal Palace), our next stop, was built originally by the Islamic rulers; the decor was rather like Istanbul's Topkapi Sarayi: luscious colours, ceiling that emulated the night sky and a profusion of gilding and Iznik tiling.  The chamber dedicated to tapestries of maritime achievements was the most remarkable, of particular interest being a map of the world as they knew it in the 16th century, that placed Spain at the centre of the world. And why not? Indeed, in that fledgling era of maritime exploration, the initial triumphs were all Spain's; and the world would have appeared to be within their grasp!

We topped off the day with a flamenco performance at the much- raved over Los Gallos. As with everything Spanish, even their entertainment had to have an intimate setting. Not from them the large operas in a grand auditorium, or instruments rendering soul-stirring music. We found ourselves in a compact little hall, packed with its full audience of 30, the stage rising, but only just, from the seating area. There was one main singer, the only musical instrument was a guitar, and percussion was attended to by rhythmic, perfectly coordinated hand-clapping. And I realized that the reviewers had not been exaggerating when they said that the dancer's trailing skirt would sweep the front row literally off its seats! The finale of the performance was almost like an impromptu medley, enjoyable in its spirit of spontaneity.

On the cards the next day was a day trip to Cordoba, to its marvellous Mezquita (mosque, and hence now a church). Cordoba had all the trappings of a tiny suburb, served as it was by a two- or maybe three- platform train station, and an economy concentrated around the Mezquita.

The double horseshoe shaped arches and the sheer size of the Mezquita served to impress, as did its vast treasury of decorative arts and paintings. The courtyard of Oranges was a fantastic place to unwind in. As an aside, if I had to pick a fragrance or flavour to remember Spain by, it would have to be oranges, or naranjos, as they are called. Orange trees appeared to fill all open spaces, rendering a sharp, citrusy zest to the air.

We returned to Seville that evening. Having had our fill of the Medieval and the ancient, we turned to the contemporary: the Flying Waffle, an audaciously large waffle-shaped parasol that was thought fit to adorn the town centre. As modern architecture goes, this looked like one bold experiment that managed to hit the right notes.

We bid adios to quaint old Seville the next morning, and set out for trendy Barcelona. Where Seville  lets you gently unravel its glorious history, Barcelona shouts out at you from its modern rooftops. Where Seville lets you turn a corner of a winding little road to discover the world's largest Gothic cathedral, Barcelona clamours for your attention with its hard-to-miss monstrosities in plain sight on the busiest roads. A walk along Ave. Diagonal is a revelation in Gaudi architecture. Gaudi's architecture is quirky, non-conventional, and bold in a grandiose manner. 

We followed up Gaudi-tracking with a stroll in La Ramblas, a busy street with everything from souvenirs to sushi to street performers. The long walk was quite fascinating; only in Spain will you go from modern architecture to noisy markets, ending abruptly with the breath-taking beauty of a Mediterranean sunset at the waterfront. As one looks up at the Column with its Columbus figurine pointing to the seas, one can almost sense the thirst for adventure of the seafarers of that age… the age of daring voyages, of the many dashed hopes and of the few elusive successes. 

Ooh lah lah!

At half past nine on a rainy Sunday morning, two travellers landed at Charles de Gaulle airport at Paris.

After reading accounts of the 'sweltering' heat in Paris in summer, we were not really prepared for the strong drizzle and the accompanying chilly gusts of wind that marked the day. Determined not to let the rains dampen our first day in the most romantic city in the world, we set out from our hotel, reinforced by croissants (heavenly!) and cafe au lait, armed with nothing more than a flimsy umbrella and metro passes.

Our first stop was Sacre Coeur, a beautiful church atop Montmarte, featuring a splendid apse of Christ in Majesty, supported by twelve pillars with paintings of the twelve apostles. The view from the dome was touted as exceptional, but the misty day put paid to that; we didn't venture the steep climb. Sacre Coeur or the Sacred Heart of Jesus, to which the church was dedicated,  was built by a a 'penitent, fervent and grateful' France after their defeat in the war with Prussia. The organ of the cathedral is undergoing restoration now.

From there, we headed out to another famous church, the one immortalized by Victor Hugo in the classic, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. The church of Our Lady (Notre Dame) is dedicated to Virgin Mary, and features vividly painted tapestries representing the life of the Virgin, including familiar themes such  Annunciation and Assumption. Apart from these, 13 paintings in wooden stalls are presented around the perimeter; these were part of 76 paintings presented to the Church by the goldsmith guilds every year from 1630 to 1707. The soaring spire, the majestic portals on the west facade topped by 'the Gallery of Kings' and the unique flying buttresses make Notre Dame quite unlike any other church I've seen. We were not in time climb up to see the Great bell, Emmanuel. Among the relics not on permanent display is the Holy Crown, believed to be the wreath of thorns placed on Christ's head before crucifixion.

A trip to the Eiffel Tower was top of the agenda on Day 2. Booking tickets in advance did pay off, and we spent the better part of the morning enjoying the sweeping views from the second and top floors of the Tower.

The magnitude of green cover is fascinating for a bustling cosmopolitan city, and the uniform slate-grey roofs combined with the verdant landscape, and we viewed Paris laid out in the form of a beautiful green-grey carpet. 

We followed this up with lunch and a visit to the Arc de Triomphe. The brass plaques on the floor commemorating important events in France's recent history were particularly interesting,  as were the long list of names of illustrious Frenchpeople inscribed on the walls of the Arch. We walked along the famed store-lined Champs Élysées avenue. While this may be the Mecca of high fashion, I didn't find this as lively or interesting as London's Oxford Street. Perhaps, the comparison isn't fair; should I be comparing Oxford Street with the more down-to-earth shopping arcades in Paris?

We headed next to the very beautiful Eglise de la Madeline, a church dedicated to Mary Magdalene. The facade did not fail to impress, with its long row of soaring pillars, evoking memories of Greek temples of a different era. The interior kept to the theme as well, being replete with marble sculptures as opposed to paintings and tapestries. The high altar carries a beautiful marble sculpture of Mary Magdalene.

The next stop was Eglise St. Eustache, built in Gothic style, in contrast to the one described above. Biblical themes painted in gothic style- staid and two-dimensional, with prominent personages depicted with golden halos- lined the walls. The organ in this church is said to be the biggest in France. New additions to the church, including the altar piece and a bas relief by an English sculptor, made the interior a hotch- potch of various styles.

Having had our fill of churches, we set out for the most famous of Paris' open squares, the Place de la Concorde. The site of ghastly guillotining in the Reign of Terror has been converted into a large public square, its name a symbol of the hope for peace.

The obelisk at Place de la Concorde was a gift from the ruler of Egypt to France. Looking at the majestic monument, I was reminded of snatches of poetry: of how the obelisk at Paris weeps tears of granite as it stays exiled from its homeland, planted in the middle of a foreign square, far away from the beautiful Nile.  

From the place de la Concorde, one finds two other elements of the axe historique, the Arc de Triomphe and the Eglise de la Madeline, in a straight line on either side. The towering mass of steel that is the symbol of the city is easily seen too.

The next day was devoted to rest, rejuvenation and Musee Rodin. A dekko at the sculptures, including the two very famous ones, The Kiss and The Thinker, and the stroll around the pretty gardens of the palatial museum building were all we did that morning. Unlike the marble-dominated Italian sculptures, the ones at Musee Rodin were dominated by bronze, and unusually, onyx. The latter was reportedly preferred by Rodin protégée Claudel.

On the radar next... Spain! So long, Paris!