A European Walk-a-thon

Memories of a different world when the borders were porous

Christmas 2019

I am a road tripper. My dad used to love taking us all up to the mountains in the summer in old Bessie, our neon green ambassador (the only one on Delhi roads), that used to drunkenly meander around hair pin bends with father at the wheel, moving from the dust and stink of the plains to the cool and fragrant air of the Himalayas. I guess the genes winked into life in my son Ameya too, who has already taken me on two fantastic road trips in North America. 

 

This Christmas, we decide on Europe. France, Austria & U.K. to be precise. We are clear we want to spend Christmas in France & New Year's Eve in London. The rest has to fit in between.

 

Our first stop is Paris, from where our family friend Penny picks us up and takes us home, in the lovely little village of Dormelles, about an hour and a half's drive through the jewel green French countryside.

Dormelles

Dormelles is a commune in the outskirts of Paris, known as the Paris Region, in North Central France. The village is charming, with its medieval style homes and a village square which hosts live music concerts and community picnics in the summer. Close to it is the Moret-Sur-Loing, another old village, at the confluence of the Loing & Seine rivers and painted by the famous British impressionist, Alfred Sisley. The view from the ancient bridge is fantastic, with tow boats and boat houses anchored on the Loing, while the Seine flows serenely, sans encumbrances. A walk through the lanes and marshes and across the house painted by Sisley, feels as though one is negotiating the vision of the artiste, as he wielded his brushes.

 

   

 

  

  

Fontainebleau

Dormelles is also close to Fontainebleau, the city which hosted several French kings. We take two trips, first to savour the exquisite cakes and pastries that the city is known for and the second to visit the Chateau, a sprawling 1,500 room palace, spread over 130 acres of gardens, parks and canals.

 

The Chateau, or palace, which was first built in 1137, has been home to 34 French monarchs and their families. It was continually refurbished and enriched by the various monarchs till the 19th century. During the French Revolution of 1789, it was stripped of furniture, but the building was spared. Napolean made it his imperial residence in the 19th century. This is also the place where he was forced to sign his abdication and from where he was escorted to his exile to the island of Elba. This scene is enacted for tourists by costumed actors, on the historic staircase. 

 

We take an audio-guided tour of the Grand Apartments where the royal families lived. They still have stunning stucco work and frescoes produced by Italian artists, when Fontainebleau was one of the leading artistic centres in Europe. Their lavish living inspired the revolt that took the lives of many members of the family, including Queen Marie Antoinette, who was beheaded at the guillotine in a public square. She had famously quipped, “Give them cakes then”, in response to the complaint that the people had no bread to eat.

  

  

  

 

Christmas at Penny's

We spend Christmas eve with Penny's family, which includes their dog, cat and their decorated Christmas tree, surrounded by presents. Her daughter, son and his partner have driven down from Amsterdam to join their parents. Included in the party are aloo and mooli parathas, makki di roti and sarson da saag, which I have brought; mixed with traditional Christmas fare, funny hats, crackers, lots of French wine, roasted nuts and a leaping, crackling Christmas fire. Post dinner, we open each others’ presents with exclamations of delight. 

Christmas morning finds us groaning under the gastronomical overdose, but we are ready for the next leg of our adventure.

 

We attend Christmas service, my first ever, at St. Luke's, an Anglican Church, presided over by a woman minister. We are all given hymn books and sing together in the Christmas spirit of brotherhood, which is moving.

 

  

  

Paris - The Eiffel

The following day, Penny drives us to Paris, where we have purchased tickets to the Eiffel Tower. We take the lift up to the first landing and picnic on left - over parathas. We give ourselves vertigo by stepping on the glass floor and peering down at the crowds below. We then proceed to the second floor. It is a clear day, and this floor has a stunning 360 degree view of Paris and the Seine. There are telescopes to close in on any spot you want, in the city. One can go right to the top for an extra fee and eat at the restaurant there with one’s head in the clouds, but we don’t have the time nor the inclination for it.  

The lifts are crowded and although one could climb down (there are only 1,665 steps to negotiate!), but we choose to brave the lift queues instead.

From the corner of my eye I see a man clinging to the exterior of the lift and crane my neck to see, in alarm. Mercifully, it is a life- sized model built for amusement and I breathe a sigh of relief. We are informed that 20,000 bulbs give the tower that stunning sparkle at night and that we should wait; but night is still far away and we have a hill to climb.   

 

  

 

 

  

Paris - Montmartre 

The hill in question is the Montmartre district, which we could see from the Tower. It was once an artist’s village, where Renoir, Picasso and Salvadore Dali lived and painted. It is also home to the Sacre Coeur Basilica. It is crowded, since it is the holiday season, but the stunning views of Paris spread out beneath us makes us forget that. Artists painting portraits of visitors, while sitting in the cobbled square, are reminiscent of the days that famous artists sat around painting their impressions of the charming village.

  

  

  

Lille 

The following day, we say goodbye to Penny and take the train to Lille, a city in Northern France. Lille is a cultural hub and a university city. It was once an important merchant centre for French Flanders and many Flemish influences remain. It is characterised by 17th century, multicoloured and narrow brick houses and charming, cobbled, pedestrian streets. Tourist attractions include the historic centre of Vieux Lille and the large central square called Grand Place. The city has a huge Arabic speaking population, largely from the Maghreb region. Arabic food, particularly kebabs, are popular here.

 

We walk across the city, munching delicious local pastry and drinking bitter, instant coffee, accompanied by Rahul, Ameya's friend, who has joined us for the weekend from (again!) Amsterdam.

Our next port of call is Tourcoing, north east of Lille, on the Belgian border. The most famous building there is the Town Hall, a tall, grey monument to Napoleon III's eclectic style. The charm of being in Tourcoing is that you can drive or stroll across the Belgian border without any documents. We bus it to the little town of Mouscron on the Belgium side. There is no discontinuity in the architecture. But the garbage has disappeared and the cost of everything is lower. That is how one distinguishes between France and Belgium, I am informed. 

 

We stop at a bar with raucous Belgians enjoying their evening dose; eat  and drink to our hearts' content, shop a little at a friendly boutique with curious and giggly shop attendants and then walked back into France, measuring the number of steps it takes us to cross the border.

 

The next day we drive to Roubaix, which is also located in the Lille Metropolitan area. The city saw rapid economic growth in the 19th century because of its booming textile industry. But after the industrial boom was over, urban decline seeped in. Many factories closed down and unemployment rose, making Lille one of France's poorest cities. Today, it is rising like a phoenix, with its new success in online retail and IT.

 

Old brick factories and warehouses dot this city, which prides itself as the inheritor of French industrial and social history. As a token of appreciation, the Federal Government designated it as the Town of Art & History. 

 

Roubaix has two major museums: La Manufacture, or the Museum Workshop and the La Piscine, or the Swimming Pool Museum, both of which reflect its socio-economic history.

 

La Piscine is a museum of Art. It is unique, in that it is housed in a former indoor swimming pool, built in the 1920s, with an art deco interior. The museum was opened in 2000 with its collection of modern sculptures and paintings, including one section dedicated to Picasso’s works. An interesting exhibit is an abstract painting by Robert DeNiro Sr., an expressionist painter and actor Robert DeNiro's father.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

For Lille, Roubaix & Tourcoing pics, visit this link

For Mouscron (Belgium) pics, visit this link

  

Vienna 

Austria beckons after France. We break our road journey to fly down to Vienna, where we are met by friends Shovana Narayan, the Kathak guru and her husband, Herbert Traxyl, a former diplomat and ambassador to India. Herbert belongs to a distinguished Viennese family with strong roots in the city's culture. Their home is situated in a historical part of the city.

 

In front of their building stand two red brick, chimney-like structures, reminiscent of the horrific Nazi gas chambers of World War II. They were built by the Nazis who used to shoot down allied planes from the top of these towers, during the German occupation of Austria.

The Traxyl home is in a heritage building, with deep interiors, high ceilings and wide rooms.     

 

Our first visit in Vienna, is to the Belvedere, consisting of two Baroque Palaces, set in a Baroque Park landscape. The grounds have a gentle gradient and include beautiful tiered fountains, cascades and  sculptures, representing various Dieties and Virtues from Greek mythology. The Belvedere was built when Vienna was the Imperial capital of Austria and was home to the powerful Hapsburg rulers. It was the summer residence of Prince Eugene of Savoy, who had won a series of wars against the mighty Ottoman Empire of Turkey in the 18th century, making Austria a major European power. Its museum is  exhibiting the works of the Austrian symbolist painter, Gustav Klimt.

 

After the Belvedere, we traipse down to the Schonbrunn Palace. The  1,441 room Baroque palace complex was the summer residence of the Hapsburg royalty. It is one of the most important architectural and cultural monuments in the country, with a history spanning 300 years. It is less decorative than France's Chateau Fontainbleau; but is still stunning in its understated but elegant style, with its extensive use of subtle hues and gold relief work. Some rooms were reserved for other European monarchs (like Napolean), because intermarriage was common amongst the European royal families. And the Hapsburgs were known to use this as a means of establishing peace amongst the feuding clans.

 

The sweeping space behind the palace includes a French garden, 32 sculptures, a sculpted fountain, an Orangerie, a palm house, an English garden and a Botanical garden.

 

The walking tour around the city with our host yields many more treasures. The Stephanplatz, a square in the centre of the city, is named after the Stephansdom, Vienna's Cathedral that is situated there. It is  one of the tallest churches in the world. Opposite it is the Haas-Haus, a modern glass and steel building and the two together are considered an example of how the old and the new can mix harmoniously. Running alongside, are the expensive and exclusive shopping streets. The whole area is lit beautifully by fairy lights to welcome the New Year.

 

Within a short distance from the Church, are the buildings housing government offices. They are stunning with their carved facades and graceful roof-top figurines. Close by is the magnificent Hofburg Palace. Built as a residence for the once powerful Austrian Dukes, it became the principal Imperial Palace of the Hapsburg dynasty rulers. Today, it is the Austrian Rashtrapati Bhavan, the official residence and workplace of the Austrian President.

 

Initially built in the 13^th century and expanded over the years, the palace has 18 wings, 19 courtyards and 2,600 rooms. Some of them are  now open to the public as convention halls, hosting roughly 350 public and private events a year. The Hall of Festivities in the palace has hosted musicians like Haydn, Paganini, Litz and Johann Strauss (once a music director to the court balls held here). The premier of Beethovan's 8th symphony was held here.

 

The palace faces the Heldenplatz, or the Hero's Square, with a magnificent statue of Archduke Charles on horseback. The Archduke was one of Napoleon's most formidable enemies.

 

No trip to Vienna is complete without one to the Vienna State Opera, or the Wiener Staatsoper, for a performance. Originally called the Vienna Court Opera, it is one of the most important opera houses in the world, with the largest repertoire. Members of the Vienna Philharmonic, once conducted by the legendary Zubin Mehta, are recruited from it. Opened in 1869, it has a seating capacity of 1709 and 567 standing patrons can be accommodated in it.

 

I see Mozart's The Magic Flute, the story of lost and found love. The work is in the form of a Singspel, which includes both singing and dialogues. The vocal range of the artistes is astounding; hardly surprising, as this is the leading opera house of the world.

 

Wine growing is a tradition in Vienna, with 80 per cent of the produce being white wine. The Wiener Gemischter Satz, pressed from a variety of grapes, is a Viennese speciality.

 

We visit a wine tavern that offers its own wine and a rich buffet of home- made delicacies. The country feel is enhanced by costumed musicians singing traditional songs on the guitar. They are accompanied by two children, who solemnly dance the waltz; the older of the two, correcting the younger, while lip synching the songs being sung.

 

The next morning we zip up the Leopoldsberg, Vienna's famous hill,  that rises over the city and the Danube, at 1,394 feet. We stand at its   prominent landmark, an 18^th century Church, dedicated to Saint Leopold and peer down at the city laid out like a patchwork carpet beneath us, the Danube shimmering in a corner. It is chilly and misty and we experience a light snowfall. Our host informs us that on a clear day, one can see right across to Bratislava, in neighbouring Slovekia.  Across the Church is a memorial to Austrians who returned home from captivity after world war II.

On our way back, we visit the Hundertwasser House, one of Vienna’s architectural delights. The house, designed by the artist of the same name, is a big tourist attraction because of its unconventional design. It has undulating contours and bright colours and looks like a gigantic Lego creation. The house can only be viewed from outside as it has inhabitants. The shopping area adjacent to it as well as the Spittelau,  the waste disposal plant, were also designed by him. The latter stands out in the Vienna skyline for its Disney castle -like chimneys and boldly painted walls, giving it an Alice In Wonderland feel, rather than that of a garbage incinerator.  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

   

 

 

London

The following day we take the flight to London. It is on the eve of New Year's Eve. The city is bustling with revellers and festive with fairy lights in figurative designs over the streets. My journalist friend, Indu Mirani’s son Leo, an acclaimed writer and editor with The Economist, comes over for a drink. We discuss world politics, and the impending Indian elections, downing a couple of beer cans before he leaves.

The following day is New Year’s Eve. Anmol Kaur, the producer of my show in my former job as a television anchor (and who herself now is a reporter for PTC in London), has read my posts and calls me to say she too is in London. We plan to meet at Trafalgar Square, where she expertly steers her ebullient daughter in her pram, amidst the mind boggling crowds. Her enterprising hubby produces bottles of alcohol like a genie, from his overcoat’s interiors. We pop open our champagne and beer bottles and drink to the New Year, waiting for the fireworks to begin from the boats on the Thames. A great roar of approval emanates from the thousands of people who have gathered there, when they do explode, shattering the sky with a million stars.

 

Later, we walk down Regent and Oxford Streets with the crowds (most of them drunk and some quite sick) to make our way home, since the underground has ground to a halt.

On New Year’s Day we are invited to dinner at a friend’s house. She is Ruby, a Delhi-based East Indian Christian, married to Augustin, a Tamilian immigrant to France. They have recently shifted to the U.K. from France, where he heads a French bank. Ruby is also my former colleague Lotty’s younger sister. It’s a fitting, New Year’s Day meal, cooked by her. It completes an entertaining day, where we end up watching Mary Poppins at the local theatre, with their bright young son Alistair, an electronics geek. We leave early, as Ruby starts a new job as librarian and teacher with the American University, the following day.

  

  

Oxford

On the second day of the New Year, we take the bus to Oxford, to meet my nephew-in-law, a professor at the University. Scot, an American academician in love with the city, takes us on a walking tour of all the historic sites, including legendary colleges like Balliol and Christchurch, which have produced world leaders, including those from our part of the world. We walk through the woods on the shores of the Thames, where houseboats are moored and the poorer population lives. We stop at a riverside pub for a refreshing mug of Guiness- on- tap and then continue towards the French restaurant he is treating us at. We eat a sumptuous dinner of grilled chicken, lamb steak and clams, downed by a smooth red wine. Later, he sees us off at the station, where we catch the bus back to London.

  

  

  

  

The undersea Eurotunnel 

The last leg of our tour has begun. To experience the thrill of travelling under the sea, we take the Eurotunnel back to France. From London, we take the bus to Kent and then through the Eurotunnel under the English Channel to Calais, in France. That is an experience by itself. We are loaded onto a shuttle train that moves through the tunnel. The sensation of the bus rocking gently, while stationary, is weird. I fight down a rising feeling of claustrophobia. What if the train broke down, or the water seeped in through a crack in the tunnel? Hell, there would be no way to escape! But while I am brushing off these psychological attacks, the automated garage-like door in front of us rolls up and we are allowed to move ahead. We are already in Calais! It has taken us only 35 minutes to cross the channel.

We return to Paris. Later, we stroll through the streets of the city, window shopping at some of the world famous fashion houses that are headquartered there. We stop at one of Paris’ famous roadside cafes for a delicious Cappuccino.  

The place, like many others, is run by an immigrant from the Maghreb.   We finally emerge at the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe, which never stops reminding me of India Gate in Delhi & the Gateway of India, in Mumbai. An accident at the roundabout of the Arc, where a car has hit a motorcycle, is also reminiscent of Delhi. So is the familiar sight of back-garbed, gun totting police, strolling down the avenue. The French Black Cats.....

 

Soon the yellow shirts trickle in and we know it is time to leave. This certainly wasn't the Paris one had visited two decades ago. And the following day's news of arson at the Champs Elysees proves it.

 

 

The next day I take my flight back to Delhi, exhilarated but exhausted, while Ameya stays back to continue his adventures.

--Sohaila Kapur