Wow, it sure has been a long time since I wrote any travel posts… not because I haven’t been anywhere but because there doesn’t seem to be enough time to sit down and write. Don’t get me wrong, there’s time to sit down but then I end up doing other stuff – embroidery or watching TV or just reading. It takes some serious self-discipline to actually write – or type, as the case may be.
The US trip – first one for both me and Pete – was absolutely fantastic, if really hectic. Actually, the very fact that we went to so many places, saw so much, did so much AND took so many photos is the major deterrent when it comes to writing it all down (“oh man, it’s going to take AGES to write all this” – and then I end up doing something else just so I don’t have to think about writing). It’s a vicious circle.
But I’ve decided to breach the circle. This travelogue is not going to be a word-for-word, scene-by-scene description of events – I leave that to my brother, who’s doing an excellent, very funny job of it (look up http://gopalsworld.blogspot.com/). Mine’s going to be more a city-by-city jobbie. Or experience by experience.
Anyway, on with it. The travails I went through before my travels (I kill myself with my laborious wordplay sometimes) are documented here: http://shyamram.blogspot.com/2006/05/trip-that-almost-didnt-happen.html. Luckily it all worked out, and we left Heathrow on 29th April, touching down at
NEW YORK, at the John F Kennedy Airport the same day. There’s something to be said for time zones when you gain a few hours extra of daylight. On the other hand, the bright daylight highlighted the rather sorry state of JFK. It wasn’t the most impressive airport from the inside – in fact, it looked (and felt) rather like Chennai International Airport before the improvements. Not much to be said for the outside either, once we got out of the inside.
I was actually dreading Passport Control, but it turned out a lot less hassle in one way (I expected to be given a body search but that didn’t happen, phew) while getting on Pete’s nerves royally in other ways. After waiting in a rather haphazard queue for over an hour, we finally got to where we could see the passport control officials sitting in their little plastic cubicles. (I was unpleasantly quite shocked that all of them were carrying guns! They weren’t cops – just regular employees at passport control!) Person after person was called and eventually sent on their way.
At first there were about 7-8 officials checking passports and visas. Then, as the throng dwindled down, a couple of them closed up shop and wandered away. And then there were 5. Amma, Pete and I (and a Malay lady) were the very last in the queue. There was an officious lady who directed us to a cubicle but the official just locked up and went away. She then told us to wait at another cubicle - but it turned out that every time we went and stood in front of an official, they would get up, lock their station and walk off – even though we were stood there waiting right in front of them! They totally ignored us even though it was obvious we needed to be officially let through.
This happened three times and finally Pete lost his temper. He stomped up to the officious lady and politely (but forcefully) explained the situation to her. She looked pissed off (but I’m assuming it was with her colleagues, not with us) and went to the last remaining official. HE wasnt happy at being the last working man, but he was nice enough to us. He fingerprinted us, photographed us and finally told us to have a nice stay as he sent us off towards the baggage carousels.
The first thing I noticed out on the road was the size of the cars. Every other car seemed to be half a truck long and about as high – absolutely huge! Coming from a country where the cars are usually little, and even the SUVs seem small in comparison to American cars… well, I was a little shell shocked. Not to mention dwarfed.
In daylight, the part of New York that we were in looked rather grubby. Even the drive to Manhattan wasn’t madly impressive, unless you count the maniac drivers in their monster vehicles. I’ve never seen such a display of outright bad driving outside of Belgium – methinks even the Belgians would be impressed. Yes, India is a country of TERRIBLE drivers, but at least they’re not changing lanes and muscling their way ahead at signals at 60 miles an hour! Frankly, New York traffic terrified me. I’m all admiration for Kumar who has actually driven there and braved the local traffic. I wouldn’t do it for worlds.
The architecture – such as it is – of New York was quite fascinating. The skyscrapers were all properly impressive and some of them even stunningly beautiful in their symmetry and soaring size. Sandwiched between them in odd places, though, were buildings that looked like they’d been transplanted whole from Europe. Gothic spikes, fairy-tale towers, little brick-and-stone constructions – it was a real mish-mash of styles. I guess that’s a legacy of the immigrants who came there in previous centuries.
The New York subway system is not geared for tourists or amateurs, that’s for sure. First of all, the signs for stops were strange to people who are used to actual names for streets and avenues, instead of numbers (3rd, 5th and so on). The grid system is a thing of wondrous sensible logic – but one has to get used to it first.
Quite apart from sussing that out, we had some serious trouble getting INTO the subway stations. The swipe-your-card thing didn’t work for us very well – at one point, the four of us were on the right side of the turnstile entry while Pete was stuck outside, desperately trying to get in. It was amusing the first time, but the experience soon palled when one or other of us was left outside trying to get in. Or inside, trying to get out. I didn’t notice any fire exits at the stations – the only way to get out was through the turnstiles, and those didn’t allow for a mass panic exodus – I couldn’t help wondering about the mayhem that would be caused if there was a bomb explosion or some other disaster and people had to get out in a hurry. All in all, I didn’t take to the NY subways. (So it’s even possible to forgive my brother for making us walk in three different – and wrong – directions before finally setting off in the fourth direction which by elimination was the right way out!) The subways in Singapore, Paris and London are much more tourist-friendly.
New York by midnight was very nice – the city that never sleeps, isn’t it called? Times Square was lit up like Christmas, with really HUGE neon signs and advertisements and bright lights everywhere. There were loads of snap happy tourists (I admit I was more snap than happy at that time of night, so I didn’t take any photos – luckily my brother did), shops were open, road-side food vendors were selling their wares and in general the streets were very much awake and populated. It certainly was nice to be there and I can only imagine the sort of buzz you’d get from being there around Christmas or New Year’s.
One really cool thing I saw in New York (and for this I do wish I’d got some photos) was a sort of 5-seater cycle. It’s a tourist gimmick and I’m not quite sure how it worked, but basically it was for 4-6 people, all pedalling away while facing in different directions. I’m not sure who would have been the main driver or how the brakes were meant to work – I mean, there were people pedalling with their back to the traffic, others were sitting sideways-on while pedalling. It had to have been legitimate or I’m sure they would not have been allowed to ride in traffic. Whatever, it looked like good fun, and it’s another of the things I’m gonna try the next time I’m in NY!
After two days in New York (I wished we’d had more time there – I wanted to check out a few restaurants and bistros recommended on various food blogs, and I also wanted to meet a couple of blogger friends… but it wasn’t to be, this time), we left for
WASHINGTON DC, which was a 4 hour drive (could have been 3 hours, but felt like 6) in a big car hired by Kumar. Big on the outside, that is. Right then I discovered another thing about American cars. They’re mostly huge on the outside but tiny on the inside and totally uncomfortable to sit in. Talk about bad design! It was meant to be a 7- or 8-seater Ford (cant remember the model) van but the floor was so high up that I was sitting cross-legged. It was either that or have my knees touching my chin. It was the single most uncomfortable car I’ve ever been in. (Kumar discovered this for himself later on in the trip – he actually lay down on the floor of the car, wedging his head by the side of the seat, against the door, in preference to sitting on the seat. He even had a nap in an “L” position! And there are photos to prove it!)
Lunch by the Inner Harbour in Baltimore was nice because of the setting (sailboats, sun shining on little flippy waves and that sort of thing). I wanted to go on the Duck Tour – an amphibious vehicle that does a land and water tour - but we didn’t have the time.
After that we set off for the hotel where we were to stay the night. I wasn’t sure what to expect because the New York hotel had been just about “okay”. But oh my, the Radisson was fantastic. Ultra modern and so comfortable that we were very nearly inclined to just stay there and never mind going out and being touristy! The beds alone were worth that inclination, believe me. The American tendency of making everything the “large economy size” was advantageous in the case of the beds – there were acres of it, soft and inviting and simply lovely. (I might be going on about this rather a lot, but good beds, wherever found, are worth going the extra mile for and worth the extra descriptive sentence or two. Please excuse the mixed metaphor. Rest assured, if I found a good bed anywhere, I would not go an extra mile from it in ANY direction!)
Reluctantly tearing ourselves away from the beds, we went to an area called Greenbelt, to meet with Kumar’s bosom buddy, his best friend from the age of 5 or thereabouts. The poor guy was recovering from a bad case of the flu (or some such debilitating attack) but was still happy to have us all drop by. He took us on a long(ish) leisurely walk around a nearby lake – a very peaceful, beautiful post with a couple of absolutely gorgeous houses on the far side. After the lovely evening and the walk, the siren song of the beds was too tempting to ignore, so off we went, back to the hotel.
The next day, we set off all gung-ho, ready for a day of museum hopping. My bright and shiny outlook had wilted a bit by the time we got out of the metro station and walked towards the museums – it was such a very hot, blindingly bright day. Exactly the wrong kind of day to be carrying a warm, furry coat.
The Air and Space Museum was nicely air-conditioned and despite the fact that there were lots of people (mainly school kids) around, it still didn’t seem crowded. We were lucky enough to get into the Imax theatre and other places of activity and fun just before the crowds got there. It was good fun. There wasn’t much time after that to look at more museums, so we decided to get on a hop-on hop-off bus tour of DC. We managed to see a few places but since I was to meet up with an old friend of mine (and, as it turned out, his new fiancée), Pete and I got off partway so that we could take the Metro nearest to his home.
After a couple of hours spent with Jason and his fiancée (now his wife, actually) Anuja, during which we incorporated a leisurely walk to his little apartment as well as the obligatory photos outside the White House, we went back to the Smithsonian to meet up with amma, Kumar and Radha. (Cant begin to describe how unimpressive the White House looks, by the way. Buckingham Palace it aint, and even that I found rather bland, actually!)
Then it was back to the hotel for our car, and thence to
ERIE, where Kumar is based. It was a long drive, about 6 hours, and Kumar did all of it. We got to his place around 1.30 in the morning. Although we were all tired and very sleepy, we couldn’t help coming rather wide awake when we saw his house. It even had its own plaque outside, as it was Erie’s oldest building (circa 1828, I think). The inside was impressive – tall ceilings, large rooms, very nice furniture (not indigenous to the house) and a very nearly cavernous cellar. On the whole, most impressive. Around 2.30 am, we finally got to bed, with Kumar dropping heavy hints about an early start so as to get to the Niagara Falls nice and early.
Early start, right! I like a leisurely start to my day, whenever and wherever possible, so we left the house only late in the morning. It was about an hour and a half’s drive to get there, and we made it without any hassle. The best part was that there were no crowds whatsoever at the Falls. We didn’t have to queue for anything!
My brother was extremely blasé about the Niagara Falls, having been there half a dozen times. Kind of understandable, because that’s how I felt about Sentosa Island & Jurong Bird Park when I was in Singapore, and how I feel about Madame Tussaud’s, the Tower and the hop-on hop-off bus tour of London. Been there, been there, been there, been there, been there…. No more! Never again!
Anyway, he was kind enough to suffer through yet another visit to the Falls. I absolutely loved it – it was such a breathtaking experience to see the volume of water that rushed over the rocks. The Maid of the Mist was a lovely experience as well. I know it’s been “done” by millions of Indians and yet it’s still something to write home about. The experience is awesome.
Better yet – because you get REALLY close to the waterfall – is the Cave of the Winds. Kind of a misnomer, because it wasn’t a cave and there were no winds. What it was, was a platform built extremely close to the roaring, rushing falls so that at its closest, you were actually standing under the water. Obviously not enough to get knocked off, but just enough to feel the exhilarating rush. The water was cold, but not freezing. There’s no way I could or would have done that in the winter – it would have been way beyond unbearable in freezing temperatures. Worse, it would not have been an enjoyable experience.
After our Niagara tour, Kumar decided that he wanted to show us the views around Lake Erie, so we headed back, trying to beat the setting sun so as get there with enough light to see by. As it turned out, it was a doddle. Plenty of sunshine, plenty of light.
Lake Erie was amazingly huge – it could well have been a sea, if I hadn’t known better. It actually had a quite substantial sandy beachfront, and were it not for the fact that the water wasn’t salty, I would not have believed it to be an inland lake at all. Even more amazing, it actually freezes right up in the winter. Completely. The entire lake! Man, what a sight THAT would be!
The next thing was deciding on how to get back to Washington the next day, to catch the 4pm flight to Seattle. I was not at all keen on 6 hours again in that vehicle of torture aka the Ford van, so Kumar kindly booked tickets on an early morning flight for me, Pete and Radha back to Baltimore. The road trip HAD to be done as the vehicle was hired and needed to be returned. Kumar and amma were to do the road trip, along with our luggage, back to Washington and to Ramaswamy’s house where the rest of their luggage awaited.
Back in Washington after a short flight, the three of us went back to the Smithsonian, this time to the Museum of American Indians which we thought might be interesting and reveal more about the ORIGINAL denizens of America. The building was beautiful inside, cool and air-conditioned. There was a live dance and music performance happening on the ground floor, but to our mystification, it was a Hawaiian hula dance. Why a hula dance, complete with fake grass skirts, in a museum dedicated to the American Indians is anybody’s guess.
The museum was unfortunately a bit disappointing. There were lots of artefacts and things, lots of arrowheads and dolls – but with rather vague descriptions as to time and history. Things that purported to be over 1000 years old were right next to a cheesy modern hard hat painted in “traditional” designs in 1993 by some guy – but why put THAT in a museum??? Is there really so little original work left from the tribes that they have to include whatever junk passes for indigenous art? Still, to be fair, there were some fantastic pieces of extremely intricate beadwork garments on display. As an amateur
Pete thought – and I agree – that it could have been a good chance for the history and culture of the indigenous peoples of America to be propagated, but instead it turned out to be somewhat less of a learning experience and more of propaganda to the tune of “We are all Americans but we still have our own culture and pride and an important role to play in modern America”.
Yeah, right.
Anyway, by the time Pete and I had had a look around (Radha sat down in one of the comfortable sofas that were scattered around and refused to budge), it was time to head to the airport. We were too bummed to bother with public transport so we took a taxi. It was a long ride, but the driver was a polite, dignified gentleman whose previous job profile was as an Afghan diplomat! I dozed pretty much all the way, but Pete had a long chat with him. They became such friends that at the airport, the taxi driver happily took less fare than he was owed (none of us had change), saying he would take it “next time”. What a nice man!
As it turned out, we very nearly missed the flight to Seattle because apparently Pete was on the FBI and CIA “no-fly” list. There was 5 minutes left for the final security check call, and Pete didn’t even have his baggage checked through! After some frantic running around (and dealing with unhelpful people), he managed to convince them that he was a different Peter Edwards, not the criminal that Interpol was on the look out for. We were literally the last persons to board the aircraft – in fact, the steps were wheeled away the moment we set foot in the plane! And then we were on our way to
SEATTLE, Radha’s chosen place of residence. The flight was uneventful enough, and we had a choice of taking the shuttle or one of the limos from the airport to her house. And in honour of our first visit to Seattle, Radha hired a long black stretch limousine. It was fun to actually be inside one of those things instead of on the outside wondering what was on the inside! J Well, there wasn’t that much inside, to be honest. But then, it was still an airport taxi sort of vehicle, not really geared OR set up for five-star luxury or celebrity occupants. Still, it was fun. It must take some getting used to, when it comes to parking a car that’s more than two cars’ length! My new ambition now is to ride in a Hummer limo. I know, I know… Hummer limos are monstrous eyesores. But I still would like to ride in one.
It was about an hour's drive from the airport to Radha's house. And a very nice house it was, too. With a very comfortable high bed in the room allotted to Pete and me. (Ok, I'm obsessive about beds.) But even better than that was her recliner chair - like the ones that Chandler and Joey have in "Friends". (Ok, I'm obsessive about Friends, too.) That to me is the last word in luxury... until something even more luxurious comes along, that is.
I have to say that we didnt do much in Seattle by way of sightseeing. I didnt get to see the Seattle Needle, and apparently Frasier had re-located to San Francisco (although I didnt meet him there either. Yes, ok, I'm obsessive about Frasier too!). What we did do there, in the couple of days available to us, was shop a lot. We spent one day, more or less, shopping for clothes. I didnt get much that I liked, but Pete spent absolutely HOURS and came out with what was an entire new wardrobe of new clothes. He's set for the year, I think.
Radha was obliging enough to drive me around to food shops where I browsed for things not available in the UK. In Uwajimaya, an oriental food store, I got a few spices and sauces and dried lotus stems and things like that. In a Mexican grocery store, I stocked up on strange dried herbs and lots of different kinds of dried chilies. I havent got around to using most of them yet, but it's only a matter of time. I also tried out what was called "guava candy" - but it wasnt really candy, it was exactly like the aam papad - dried pressed mango that you get in India. Except, of course, that it was guava papad. It was scrumptious, sweet and a bit sour at the same time. I wish I'd brought back some to the UK!
I also went to a Trader Joe's. It was sort of disappointing after all I'd read about it in various food blogs. But only because most of the items available couldnt have been transported back to the UK... Trader Joe's is best for people who live locally. Sigh.
Oops, this is my travel blog, not my food blog.
Some of the shopping we did was for the party we were having in celebration of my mother's 60th birthday. In fact, the whole trip was planned for and around that event, with Radha inviting her friends over. It was a sort of pot-luck party, with each guest bringing along one item. It was good fun, with great food, and I had a gala time with all the little kids.
Again, there wasnt enough time for sight-seeing or trying out the various eateries and restaurants for which Seattle is famous. (It's another matter that I might not have been able to find much to eat, being vegetarian.) But one place we DID go to - and long-time residents of the US might groan at this - was a Krispy Kreme outlet. Oh my god, I've never had such melt-in-the-mouth doughnuts EVER! Every one of them was a revelation of fresh sweet warm softness. Those doughnuts are to die for. I could have eaten them all day despite my distinct lack of a sweet tooth. I really WISH Krispy Kreme would open outlets in the UK, like McDonalds, Burger King & KFC. And of course Starbucks.
After that hectic weekend, we were off early Monday morning to
YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK. Of course, we had to fly to Salt Lake City first. When I looked out at the countryside, I couldnt help thinking of all the Westerns I'd read and trying to imagine what it must have been like in the times of cowboys and outlaws and shootouts in saloons. (I tried not to think about the Mormons, though it would have been kinda nice to visit the Mormon temple.)
Directly from Salt Lake City's airport, we went to the RV (Recreational Vehicle, to the uninitiated) centre, where we hired ourselves one of those large vehicles, ready for the 400-mile drive to Yellowstone Park. It was all exciting, especially as neither Radha or Kumar had ever driven anything as big as a large bus! It was a first for everybody... and we had a 400-mile drive, first-timers all.
For Pete especially, the sheer staggering size of the US was driven in yet again - I mean, in the UK, it's a 400-mile drive from Shrewsbury to the Scottish Highlands, and that covers nearly 3/4 of the country's length. And here we were, ready to cover the same distance merely to GET to the National Park from the nearest RV centre!
Staggering, I tell ya.
After a long drive, with Radha and Kumar taking turns to drive the RV, we reached the RV camp quite late at night - 11 pm or thereabouts. It was very quiet and still, but since Radha had phoned ahead to the camp manager, she was awake. Very quietly, we hooked up the RV to the electricity and water outlets and, once everything was fixed and ready, went to sleep.
We were in Yellowstone Park at exactly the right time of year - yet again, it was timed to perfection. The season hadnt quite begun yet, and the Park wasnt fully open. The weather was perfect, the hordes of tourists hadnt descended on the area and there was peace and calm all around. Apparently during high season, there are actual traffic jams on the roads inside Yellowstone - brr! I doubt we would have had as good a time with more traffic and people to contend with.
Yellowstone Park is huge and only a very small section of it has been "civilised" - I mean, laid out with roads and signs and things. The best way to see it, of course, is by hiking or climbing. But for the more comfortably-minded, driving around in a car is much the preferred method. The views are fantastic, the sheer scale of the mountains is breath-taking.
We saw lots of bison (or buffalo) - usually on the road, blocking our way. With typical bovine stupidity, they would amble across till they were in the middle of the road, then stop and just stand there. Maybe they forgot what they were gonna do, maybe they were waiting for inspiration to strike. But since you're not allowed to honk the car horn or otherwise disturb the wildlife on purpose, all we could do was wait and hope that they would move on. It IS exciting to see wild animals close up, but there's only so long that you can sustain the excitement of looking at a somnolent shaggy cow. Or bull.
Mind, we also saw lots of elk. Boring deer, really. But at least they werent on the road. We saw a coyote, too. And a wolf. Which also, strangely enough, was in the middle of the road. It actually looked like a normal Alsatian dog, because it was wearing a collar. But since nobody goes to Yellowstone Park to look at a domestic canine, we decided that it was a wolf that had been "collared" for scientific head-count purposes. The darn thing trotted along the central line on the road almost as if it was taking a sobriety test, making it impossible for cars on both sides of the road to progress along. Eventually, after we had all taken photos, it loped off to the side, and we could all carry on driving in search of MORE wildlife and wild views. You'd think the animals would have learnt to stay off the roads, considering the hundreds of miles of forest and wilderness available to them! (This is called irony.)
Oh, talking about views... Yellowstone is one of those places that you have to see to believe. Words cant describe it and photographs show only a fraction of what we saw. The waterfalls we came across were ginormous, and so fantastically placed that from every angle they were perfect for picture postcard photography. Kind of like the Taj Mahal - it was difficult to take a bad picture.
What I would have loved to see in the way of wild animals was a grizzly bear, but unfortunately those were not wandering around in herds. We DID stop by the roadside at one beautiful viewpoint, to be told in hushed tones by the other people that "there's a grizzly over there". "Over there" turned out to be at the furthest point of naked eyesight. We didnt have binoculars so we couldnt tell for sure if it was an animal, or if the vaunted grizzly was really only a distant bush masquerading as one. In any case, after straining our eyes and trying to get a closer look via our cameras' "zoom" facility to no avail, we moved on.
It was probably only a bison, anyway.
As it turned out, we didnt see any grizzlies. Nor did any grizzlies see us, I guess. Just as well.
Two of the most vivid experiences of Yellowstone were, for me, Old Faithful geyser and the enormous Yellowstone Lake. The park has lots of areas of hot springs, geysers, sulphur pools and mud pools, much like New Zealand. Old Faithful is, of course, THE most well-known geyser. We had to wait nearly an hour (which time we whiled away by dozing through two interesting documentaries in the shop-cum-office area). There seemed to be quite a lot of false starts and spurts but eventually Old Faithful lived up to her name, putting up quite a show of scalding water and steam that shot up into the air.
Not only are there volcanic pools, but bacteria that can live in the scalding, sulphurous, acid waters and are being studied by scientists to see how life developed. Nobody is allowed to step off the raised paths onto the ground for two very good reasons: One, it would compromise the bacterial mat and 2. One could end up sinking into a pool of corrosive acid.
I have to admit at this point that I DID compromise the evolution of these bacteria - but not on purpose. An extra strong gust of icy wind whipped my beautiful red leather beret (bought as a souvenir in New York) off my head on to the ground a few feet away. Alas, I couldnt retrieve it because of the two reasons stated above. So with a heavy heart, I abandoned my beret to the tender mercies of the hot sulphurous waters and the bacteria. I wonder how they will incorporate my beret into their evolution... and what the scientists will think when they come across leathery red bacteria...
The second unforgettable sight in Yellowstone was the vast frozen Yellowstone lake that we came across more or less by accident. We'd hired a car that day (thinking the RV was too big to drive around everywhere) and taken a wrong turning somewhere after a set of bubbling sulphurous mud pools. When we came across a sign for "Yellowstone Lake", it was a choice between carrying on that way or turning back the way we had come. Luckily we decided to carry on, although Kumar thought it couldnt be much of a tourist attraction. We werent sure if it was a loop road, or whether it led away, or how far, from our RV. Still, we carried on.
And what a fortunate choice that turned out to be! Once past a Ranger Station on our right (brand new buildings, and a new service station coming up as well), all we saw was a vast sheet of ice on the left - Lake Yellowstone was still frozen solid. Towards the edge, near the beach, the ice was fairly thin and translucent, but further back, it was an opaque white. The lake stretched to the horizon, with a semi-circle of snow-covered mountains at the furthest. Puffs of steam could be seen here and there on the far side, from the hot springs and mud pools. It was an amazing, awe-inspiring, completely unexpected sight.
Then Kumar had a brainwave - he suggested that we go back with the car to the RV and come back with it, hopefully in time to take photos of what would most certainly be a spectacular sunset. The reason for returning the car being, of course, that the RV was a lot more comfortable and even if got late, at least some of us could get some sleep even if the RV was moving. This seemed like a good idea, so we raced back to the caravan park, saying rude things to the few bison that dared to get in our way and slow us down.
The decision to let Pete handle the RV on the way back to Yellowstone Lake was unanimous - we had only an hour or so to get there if we wanted to catch the sunset. Although Radha and Kumar had both proved very good at driving the monstrous RV, neither of them were quite comfortable with the idea of hurling it around the fairly narrow, twisty roads. Pete was the only one of us with experience in driving large vehicles over narrow roads at unsuitable speeds. Back at home in England, he's very used to driving the Range Rover with a large trailer attached - so an RV would more or less be the same length (if not the width). It was quite awesome to be in the RV at that point, and believe me, we were all belted in as he hurtled the RV onwards at speeds somewhat in excess - like 3 times - of the maximum speed limit (If any cops are reading this - I'm lying like a rug, officer.)
As it happened, despite Pete's speediest efforts, we didnt make it back to the lake in time for the sunset. (It was another matter that the sunset was in the opposite direction.) But we went onwards regardless, because that was The Plan. Once we got there, Kumar decided that he wanted to stay overnight so as to see the sunrise the next day. There was some argument about whether it was legal to park the RV there, and if it was safe, and whether we would run the batteries down by having the heating on all night, and so on. I have to say that Kumar made the most impassioned pleas for staying on, getting all poetic ("Just imagine, you're standing there with a cup of coffee in your hand, watching the sun rise over the mountains, watching as the sky lightens to pink, as the first rays of the sun hit the frozen lake" etc ad nauseam). I know I gave in just so that he would stop babbling like an out-of-control travel agent!
My main reservation about staying there was perhaps meeting a grizzly or even a bad-tempered bison in the dark (while on the short walk to the toilet, for instance). For all that we hadnt seen any grizzly bears, I couldnt stop imagining a particularly sore-headed, hungry bear behind every bush as it got dark. It didnt help that I'd read a book about really grisly grizzly attacks, day and night, on unsuspecting people who were out walking or even in tents. I mean, just because I couldnt see or smell a grizzly didnt mean that any passing hungry bear couldnt see or smell ME! I knew for a fact that bison had been around, because of the lavishly large droppings that that had been deposited here and there. One, I might mention, rather close to the toilet cubicles. Anyway, I decided I would venture out only in broad daylight. The last of the intrepid adventurers, me.
To give Kumar his due, he really was enthusiastic about the whole thing, making up for any shortfall in the levels of enthusiasm in the rest of us. He got up at around 4am the next day (if he slept at all, that is) and was out in the cold pre-dawn darkness fiddling with his tripod and camera, getting everything just right. By about 5.30 we were all out there, shivering quietly but marvelling at how utterly eerie the lake and mountains looked. Everything was an intense blue, much like looking through a blue filter - the photos will attest to that.
The sun was quite tardy in rising, and we amused ourselves by betting on exactly which valley the sun would appear from. Eventually, extremely reluctantly, the sun made its first appearance over the mountains at around 6.30. Coincidentally, exactly at that moment, there was a huge "CRRACK" - the ice at the forefront of the lake, where it wasnt very thick, was breaking up. Even as we watched, cracks zigzagged their way almost quicker than the eye could follow. It was stunning. I dont know if it was sheer coincidence or whether the sun's warmth caused the cracking. If it was the latter, all I can say is that any change in temperature was totally imperceptible to us.
The sunrise itself was pretty - more pastels than anything else, not as spectacular as some I've seen. Perhaps because there wasnt enough pollution (dust, etc) in the atmosphere? Whatever, it definitely was worth the trouble of getting up early and I guess we have Kumar alone to thank for the experience - so, thanks, Gopes!
The rest of the travelogue will follow in the next post.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Friday, September 16, 2005
A long weekend and a short trip in Europe - Part 2
I guess all the margaritas of the previous evening had taken their toll because when we got up on Sunday morning, it was nearly afternoon. We decided to have a very late breakfast at a French cafe and then go cycling. Breakfast was a plain omelette for me (and despite his lack of English, the waiter kept asking if I really wanted it plain - no fromage? no champignons? no jambon? no tomatoes? It took a few firm "NO"s and many negative head shakes before he accepted the inevitable) and two cups of their wonderful coffee.
Oh, I have to say this about the coffee in Europe (at least in the few countries I've visited) - it's FABULOUS!!! Even the motorway service area shops serve the most amazing coffee... my favourite was at "Star Mart" shops in Belgium. Not only was the coffee dispenser state-of-the-art interactive, but the coffee itself was the best I've had - possibly ever. I done drink coffee anywhere in the UK because not even the top-priced outlets - Costa Lotta... I mean, Costa Coffee, Coffee Primo, Ritazza, even Starbucks - manage anything that I find palatable. But at Star Mart I didnt even need sugar in my coffee - it was THAT good! I cant praise it enough.
And I dont need to go on about Belgian chocolates, do I? Even their "off-the-rack" ones seem classy. I found one that was utter bliss - dark chocolate with whole hazelnuts... I'm not crazy about chocolate but if I could have taken home a few hundred bars of that particular confection, I would definitely have done it!
Back to Luxembourg. I have absolutely no idea where we went (didnt have a map) - we just followed our noses, so to speak. But some things did stay in my memory... backed up, of course, with photographs. The Grand Duchesse Charlotte bridge was humongous - each of its "legs" is wider around than one of those luxury tourist buses. Ok, not the best comparison and not the best photograph either, but I couldnt fit it all into my little camera or into the little area of my brain that forms similes. You can see the building down in the valley here, which probably gives a better idea of just how big the bridge is. It felt almost like a hallucination.
We didnt go over the bridge; rather, we rode up the side to reach the Centre Europeen District, which has a lot of embassies and important European Union buildings. The street that we chose had the American Embassy in it - fortified in the extreme. We were watched all the way up by a squat, belligerent looking, fully armed guard in the embassy's guardhouse. He looked so like an escapee troll from Discworld that I mentally christened him Chrysoprase. I would have taken a photo but I was rather worried that he might consider that a security threat to the embassy, Bush and American democracy, and go into "shoot-to-kill" mode. He certainly was armed for it.
There was another bridge (name unknown to me) that we rode across just for the heck of it - and what a good idea it was, because the views of the valley from there were lovely. Like this one and this. The bridge was different enough that I wanted a photo of it - and here's Pete posing on it. And me.
We also rode down to a particularly lovely park that I think is called Plaza de la Constitution... I had read that it was built in the middle of a former bastion halfway down the Casemate wall. I dont know if that was it, but I certainly saw some solid old stone walls while riding down. (By the way, the Casemates are the massive stone walls that surround the city.)
Pete also took a photo of a bridge that he saw from the top of park (I'd gone way down the path by then, as you can see in this photo, but I've no idea what the bridge is called. There are quite a few bridges, and lack of a guidebook didnt help identify the ones we saw!
I have to confess that we didnt take our cycles all the way to the bottom of the park - the long climb back to civilisation simply didnt appeal to me, although Pete seemed game enough. So when I noticed the path branching off to a set of steep steps that led to the main road at the top, I was all for going up it. Until I tried to climb them steps while carrying my cycle. Apparently my cycle didnt approve, for it whacked my ankle with the pedal. That was painful, so I tried to adjust my grip on it to prevent it happening - and the handlebar whacked my forehead.
Pete was already halfway up but when he saw that I wasnt making much progress, he came back down, hefted up my cycle on one shoulder and his cycle on the other, and climbed up the steps all at one go. I just about managed a photo of him going up the steps. Awww... my hero!
After that we pedalled through all kinds of side streets - nobody seemed to be around and what shops and business establishments we saw were closed. Well, it was Sunday, after all. So we headed back to the city centre and the cafes. It was pretty hot, so I personally was very happy to take possession of my extra large glass of a citron margarita, complete with salted rim. Nothing that tastes better... unless it be a strawberry margarita!
I did manage to take a photo of this snoring beauty, though. I could practically see up his nose (and down his throat to his uvula) when I closed in for a macro, but an extra large snort from him kind of startled me - I thought he'd woken up! So I settled for a regular shot instead. I have to say he looked very comfortable...
One last bridge shot (again, name unknown) and we wandered back to our hotel for a reasonably early night. All that cycling was fun but tiring!
***
Here's a tip - dont bother stopping at Lille, France. That was a bad choice on my part. We had to get back to France on the Monday so that we'd be in good time to catch the ferry in Calais on Tuesday. Since most of the places I wanted to see in France were too long a drive away, Lille seemed the best choice in terms of being on the route to Calais and being a reasonably big city.
I have to say I was pretty disappointed when we got into the city... there didnt seem to be any pretty parts to it. It all looked uniformly grungy and built-up - rather like Birmingham, actually. The actual city centre square - what the Lilleians called the "Grand Place" - was the only bit that looked passable, with a few open-air cafes. The hotel we stopped at was very close to the Grand Place but the street was really grotty and dirty - enough to make me regret wanting to stop here, and certainly enough that I didnt bother with the camera.
However, dogged as ever, we set off on our cycles to explore what we could of Lille. The one abiding impression I have of the city is that of smelly drains - on the main roads, in the side roads, everywhere we got whiffs of hot stinking sewers. Very reminiscent of the Cooum in Madras, I must say! Their drainage system leaves a lot to be desired - and I suppose the heat and humidity didnt help. Eventually we found our way to a big park by the river that looked promisingly green. It wasnt bad, but as we were to discover, we werent destined to escape the smelly drains - there were pools of stagnant water well inside the wooded areas of the park, although they didnt seem to bother the dozens of joggers.
Anyway, after cycling through what seemed like miles of mushy, muddy park, we eventually reached the back end of a fair. It had some interesting rides, so we went to look at them. I have to say I wasnt tempted to ride any - mainly because I didnt want to go by myself, Pete having excused himself firmly from them all. Cant quite blame him, most of the rides looked pretty vicious! :)
On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a creperie that advertised "English spoken here" - a blatant lie because nobody spoke English except Pete and me. I guess the only thing they learnt to say in English was a whopping untruth! But our waitress was a friendly, smiley little thing who looked about 14, and we were happy enough - Pete with his coffee and me with an icecream sundae which I couldnt finish because it was so huge.
***
Tuesday morning, and I was pretty happy to leave Lille. As a matter of fact I was quite surprised that the cycles were still on their rack on the car - our hotel didnt have its own parking, so we'd parked on the street... and what I'd seen of the street didnt give rise to confidence regarding security. But since the cycles were untouched, I guess I've maligned the Lilleians, for which I apologise.
En route to Calais, we made a short detour to Dunkirk where we went to see the war memorial. Didnt like to take any photos, so we wandered around the huge cemetery looking at the various gravestones and wondering about the people who were buried there - Indians, Belgians, French, Germans, English... so many people who died so young and so far away from home. It was quite sobering.
Just before we went to the port to catch our ferry, Pete decided to take advantage of the cheap prices in Calais and fill the boot with wine and assorted alcohol bought at a big wine wholesaler and retailer. He went looking for wines and I wandered around picking out exotic-sounding liqueurs. At the end of 30 minutes, we'd managed to fill a supermarket trolley with our purchases. That, for Pete, was the perfect ending to a nice short break.
And here endeth this travelogue. Until the next holiday, then.
Oh, I have to say this about the coffee in Europe (at least in the few countries I've visited) - it's FABULOUS!!! Even the motorway service area shops serve the most amazing coffee... my favourite was at "Star Mart" shops in Belgium. Not only was the coffee dispenser state-of-the-art interactive, but the coffee itself was the best I've had - possibly ever. I done drink coffee anywhere in the UK because not even the top-priced outlets - Costa Lotta... I mean, Costa Coffee, Coffee Primo, Ritazza, even Starbucks - manage anything that I find palatable. But at Star Mart I didnt even need sugar in my coffee - it was THAT good! I cant praise it enough.
And I dont need to go on about Belgian chocolates, do I? Even their "off-the-rack" ones seem classy. I found one that was utter bliss - dark chocolate with whole hazelnuts... I'm not crazy about chocolate but if I could have taken home a few hundred bars of that particular confection, I would definitely have done it!
Back to Luxembourg. I have absolutely no idea where we went (didnt have a map) - we just followed our noses, so to speak. But some things did stay in my memory... backed up, of course, with photographs. The Grand Duchesse Charlotte bridge was humongous - each of its "legs" is wider around than one of those luxury tourist buses. Ok, not the best comparison and not the best photograph either, but I couldnt fit it all into my little camera or into the little area of my brain that forms similes. You can see the building down in the valley here, which probably gives a better idea of just how big the bridge is. It felt almost like a hallucination.
We didnt go over the bridge; rather, we rode up the side to reach the Centre Europeen District, which has a lot of embassies and important European Union buildings. The street that we chose had the American Embassy in it - fortified in the extreme. We were watched all the way up by a squat, belligerent looking, fully armed guard in the embassy's guardhouse. He looked so like an escapee troll from Discworld that I mentally christened him Chrysoprase. I would have taken a photo but I was rather worried that he might consider that a security threat to the embassy, Bush and American democracy, and go into "shoot-to-kill" mode. He certainly was armed for it.
There was another bridge (name unknown to me) that we rode across just for the heck of it - and what a good idea it was, because the views of the valley from there were lovely. Like this one and this. The bridge was different enough that I wanted a photo of it - and here's Pete posing on it. And me.
We also rode down to a particularly lovely park that I think is called Plaza de la Constitution... I had read that it was built in the middle of a former bastion halfway down the Casemate wall. I dont know if that was it, but I certainly saw some solid old stone walls while riding down. (By the way, the Casemates are the massive stone walls that surround the city.)
Pete also took a photo of a bridge that he saw from the top of park (I'd gone way down the path by then, as you can see in this photo, but I've no idea what the bridge is called. There are quite a few bridges, and lack of a guidebook didnt help identify the ones we saw!
I have to confess that we didnt take our cycles all the way to the bottom of the park - the long climb back to civilisation simply didnt appeal to me, although Pete seemed game enough. So when I noticed the path branching off to a set of steep steps that led to the main road at the top, I was all for going up it. Until I tried to climb them steps while carrying my cycle. Apparently my cycle didnt approve, for it whacked my ankle with the pedal. That was painful, so I tried to adjust my grip on it to prevent it happening - and the handlebar whacked my forehead.
Pete was already halfway up but when he saw that I wasnt making much progress, he came back down, hefted up my cycle on one shoulder and his cycle on the other, and climbed up the steps all at one go. I just about managed a photo of him going up the steps. Awww... my hero!
After that we pedalled through all kinds of side streets - nobody seemed to be around and what shops and business establishments we saw were closed. Well, it was Sunday, after all. So we headed back to the city centre and the cafes. It was pretty hot, so I personally was very happy to take possession of my extra large glass of a citron margarita, complete with salted rim. Nothing that tastes better... unless it be a strawberry margarita!
I did manage to take a photo of this snoring beauty, though. I could practically see up his nose (and down his throat to his uvula) when I closed in for a macro, but an extra large snort from him kind of startled me - I thought he'd woken up! So I settled for a regular shot instead. I have to say he looked very comfortable...
One last bridge shot (again, name unknown) and we wandered back to our hotel for a reasonably early night. All that cycling was fun but tiring!
***
Here's a tip - dont bother stopping at Lille, France. That was a bad choice on my part. We had to get back to France on the Monday so that we'd be in good time to catch the ferry in Calais on Tuesday. Since most of the places I wanted to see in France were too long a drive away, Lille seemed the best choice in terms of being on the route to Calais and being a reasonably big city.
I have to say I was pretty disappointed when we got into the city... there didnt seem to be any pretty parts to it. It all looked uniformly grungy and built-up - rather like Birmingham, actually. The actual city centre square - what the Lilleians called the "Grand Place" - was the only bit that looked passable, with a few open-air cafes. The hotel we stopped at was very close to the Grand Place but the street was really grotty and dirty - enough to make me regret wanting to stop here, and certainly enough that I didnt bother with the camera.
However, dogged as ever, we set off on our cycles to explore what we could of Lille. The one abiding impression I have of the city is that of smelly drains - on the main roads, in the side roads, everywhere we got whiffs of hot stinking sewers. Very reminiscent of the Cooum in Madras, I must say! Their drainage system leaves a lot to be desired - and I suppose the heat and humidity didnt help. Eventually we found our way to a big park by the river that looked promisingly green. It wasnt bad, but as we were to discover, we werent destined to escape the smelly drains - there were pools of stagnant water well inside the wooded areas of the park, although they didnt seem to bother the dozens of joggers.
Anyway, after cycling through what seemed like miles of mushy, muddy park, we eventually reached the back end of a fair. It had some interesting rides, so we went to look at them. I have to say I wasnt tempted to ride any - mainly because I didnt want to go by myself, Pete having excused himself firmly from them all. Cant quite blame him, most of the rides looked pretty vicious! :)
On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a creperie that advertised "English spoken here" - a blatant lie because nobody spoke English except Pete and me. I guess the only thing they learnt to say in English was a whopping untruth! But our waitress was a friendly, smiley little thing who looked about 14, and we were happy enough - Pete with his coffee and me with an icecream sundae which I couldnt finish because it was so huge.
***
Tuesday morning, and I was pretty happy to leave Lille. As a matter of fact I was quite surprised that the cycles were still on their rack on the car - our hotel didnt have its own parking, so we'd parked on the street... and what I'd seen of the street didnt give rise to confidence regarding security. But since the cycles were untouched, I guess I've maligned the Lilleians, for which I apologise.
En route to Calais, we made a short detour to Dunkirk where we went to see the war memorial. Didnt like to take any photos, so we wandered around the huge cemetery looking at the various gravestones and wondering about the people who were buried there - Indians, Belgians, French, Germans, English... so many people who died so young and so far away from home. It was quite sobering.
Just before we went to the port to catch our ferry, Pete decided to take advantage of the cheap prices in Calais and fill the boot with wine and assorted alcohol bought at a big wine wholesaler and retailer. He went looking for wines and I wandered around picking out exotic-sounding liqueurs. At the end of 30 minutes, we'd managed to fill a supermarket trolley with our purchases. That, for Pete, was the perfect ending to a nice short break.
And here endeth this travelogue. Until the next holiday, then.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
A long weekend and a short trip in Europe - Part 1
For a while now, I've been thinking that the ideal holiday would be to drive through a country (whichever one) at a leisurely pace, stopping wherever and whenever, based on a travel plan which specifies only the final destination. Vague but workable, and the long weekend of Aug 27-29 - Monday Aug 29 being the last bank holiday of the year before Christmas - seemed ideal to test my theory. Since I'd wangled Tuesday off from work, it added up to a decent 4 days for a short trip.
Ireland could have been on the cards, but I had Calais on my mind. So we headed France-wards on the ferry to Calais, with the car parked in the bowels of the ferry and our cycles (a fortunate afterthought on Pete's part) parked on the car. I was particularly thrilled about going to Calais because the ferry left from Dover - the famous white cliffs of which I had wanted to see. And now I can say that I've seen the white cliffs of Dover. They are quite white, actually, but not particularly high. That said, I wouldnt be making that comment about the height if I had been at the top of the cliffs, rather than at the bottom.
I could certainly imagine the feelings of the seamen on British ships during WW2, when they got their first glimpse of home in the white cliffs of Dover as their ships sailed into the harbour. I mean, I used to get the same "I'm home" feeling when I saw my first PTC bus after a trip away from Madras!
Anyway... back to Calais. The ferry trip from Dover to Calais was uneventful, the most remarkable thing being that it started as scheduled at 3.45 a.m. Pete managed to snatch a few winks but as ever, sleeping while sitting upright is not an option for me. So I spent my time memorising (not intentionally, no) the Formula 1 statistics and odd facts that were printed on the walls (why Formula 1 factoids on a ferry? who knows!). Interesting things like: the wear and tear on the brakes of a Formula 1 car in ONE race is the equivalent of 10 years worth on a normal car used normally; From a normal seating position, with all seat belts fastened, and whilst wearing his usual driving equipment, a driver must be able to remove the steering wheel and get out of the car within five seconds and then replace the steering wheel within a total of 10 seconds.
I have more such useless information cluttering my brain but I will refrain from doing the same to this post, out of consideration for the few readers I have - do I hear sighs of relief?
The ferry docked at Calais port bright and early at around 5.30am. I had thought we would base ourselves there and drive to nearby places, but Pete decided he wanted to drive onward. We were somewhat hampered by the fact that the car was by now running on petrol fumes, so we drove around looking rather desperately for a petrol station. Finally found a tiny one in the middle of Calais that would open at 6 a.m.
Since we had 15 minutes to kill, I took the opportunity to wander around and found the Town Hall - a colourful building that reminded me of wedding cake. Its imposing belfry looked like it was made of iron, in surprising contrast to the rest of the building.
In front of the Town Hall was the famous Six Burghers of Calais statue made (sculpted? created?) by Rodin, to commemorate the 6 brave citizens who were ready to give up their lives in return for the safety of the rest of Calais' population when they surrendered to England's Edward III after a year-long siege. (Phew. Talk about history encapsulated. Take the time for a few deep breaths before going on to the next sentence!).
The only thing I found annoying was that I couldnt take a photo of just the statue - the Town Hall building kept getting in the background. On the other hand, I managed to take a photo of a butterfly that landed on one of the statues' head - taking a rest before targeting the flowers, I suppose. Anyway, it's my one puny effort at Nature photography, haha.
The garden around the statue was beautiful - the flower arrangements were exotic (compared to what I see in Shrewsbury) and very, very colourful, a real feast for the eyes.
Even better was a traffic circle which had a bush shaped to look like a peacock's long neck - and the colourful spread of its feathers was duplicated by multicoloured flowers. I tried my best to get a photo of it as a whole, but again, trees/buildings/power lines/lamp-posts kept popping up no matter what angle I tried. It was the loveliest flower arrangement I've seen on the ground, and the photo does it no justice at all. Especially as it was taken in the early morning light (which wasnt enough).
A few dozen photos later (of which only a few were worthwhile, actually), the car replete with petrol by then, we were on our way again. Our destination was Luxembourg, that little country stuck between France, Germany and Holland. I had been there before and loved the place, although I had not seen enough of it in the short time I spent there. And since Pete had not been there at all, it seemed like a good place to (re)visit.
From Calais, it's a very short driving distance to the Belgian border (or the Dutch one, for that matter). Even if I hadnt seen the big notice that announced "Belgie", I would have known I was on Belgian roads because of the lunatic traffic. Imagine, if you will, the inconsiderate, undisciplined, discourteous Indian drivers - then imagine that sort of driving ethic at speeds in excess of 80 miles per hour (about 130kmph), and you have a pretty accurate idea of Belgian drivers.
It was nerve-wracking to see vehicles muscling in with barely enough space between our car and the one in front, without even a blink to indicate the sudden changing of lanes - and almost the very next moment, the vehicle would move back to the original lane. And I'm talking about those enormous 18-wheeler container trucks playing "tag" with each other in fast-moving traffic. My first impression of Belgian traffic as being terrible was set in reinforced concrete this time around. No wonder you hear police/ambulance sirens ALL the time in this country!
To think Brussels, with its hazardous drivers, is the seat of the EU, the place from which all rules - from traffic to work laws - are handed out to the UK and sought to be enforced. I think Brussels should look to its laws being followed by Belgians before it sets its sights elsewhere!
Whatever, it was a relief to bypass Brussels and get onto the motorway to Luxembourg. The drive is pleasant in more ways than one - for one thing, the views are spectacular... forests, mountains, valleys, rivers. It was unspoilt and beautiful, at least on the surface.
We reached Luxembourg at about midday. After a drive around the city centre, trying to find a hotel that didnt look like it would charge a year's income for a night's stay, Pete finally decided on one called Le Royal (good decision - it only charged half a year's income, hah). No complaints about the service, the room, the atmosphere - they were all luxurious almost to a fault.
We watched the car disappear into the bowels of the parking lot, escorted by a valet. Then, after a shower, we set off on our cycles. Luxembourg is a lovely city, set in the mountains, so that you get spectacular views off bridges (and there are many) that have been built over the Rivers Petrusse and Alzette.
The old town is in the bowels of the valley, and the buildings there are beautiful - especially viewed from above, they look like toy models. The modern part of the city is almost as pretty, and neater than any place I've ever been to. Although there were lots of dogs being walked (or carried), there wasnt any poo.
Our cycles really came into their own in the town centre. Had we been in the car, we would have had trouble finding a place to park. And of course, we would have had to curtail our alcohol consumption keeping in mind the driving back part. That is, Pete would have had that problem. But as things were, we cycled merrily around, following road rules and keeping to the cycle paths where possible - but more often than not, riding down footpaths on the wrong side of the road, not even worrying about one-ways.
For the first hour or so, we rode around getting familiar with the city centre, checking out the monuments and shops. A lot of the shops were shut, it being a weekend, but the cafes were all open. The Place Guillaume (I bet my spelling is wrong - bloody French words), the big square with cafes all around, and a stage in the centre, was THE place to be, so we settled there. At Chi-chi, a Mexican eatery and outdoor cafe, on my insistence. Well why not? At least they werent offering up snails for our gastronomic pleasure! And I like Mexican food.
Anyway, the cafe was a perfect choice - we had a VERY good looking waiter. Unfortunately I dont have a good photo (Pete kindly took this one because I didnt want make my admiration obvious to the waiter!) but it gives a general idea. Whatsisname didnt speak much - any - English but he had a killer smile and understood just fine when we pointed at items on the menu, so all went very well.
It was a nice relaxed evening spent in the shade of an umbrella, watching various kinds of people (some unidentifiable as to gender) walking around, surreptitiously admiring the waiter (Pete declined to join me in this), and slowly drinking a large jugful of wonderful strawberry margarita. Pete opted for sangria, but margaritas are my special joy.
At the end of the evening, after the band playing live music at the square had gone home and the cafes were closing, we wobbled around town some more on our cycles,l taking some very bad (all mine) night photographs before heading back to the hotel. I think the national library looks beautiful despite my best efforts!
All in all, it had been such a lovely relaxing day, and we'd still seen so little of the city that we decided to stay all of Sunday as well, and leave on Monday.
***
Part 2 to follow.
Ireland could have been on the cards, but I had Calais on my mind. So we headed France-wards on the ferry to Calais, with the car parked in the bowels of the ferry and our cycles (a fortunate afterthought on Pete's part) parked on the car. I was particularly thrilled about going to Calais because the ferry left from Dover - the famous white cliffs of which I had wanted to see. And now I can say that I've seen the white cliffs of Dover. They are quite white, actually, but not particularly high. That said, I wouldnt be making that comment about the height if I had been at the top of the cliffs, rather than at the bottom.
I could certainly imagine the feelings of the seamen on British ships during WW2, when they got their first glimpse of home in the white cliffs of Dover as their ships sailed into the harbour. I mean, I used to get the same "I'm home" feeling when I saw my first PTC bus after a trip away from Madras!
Anyway... back to Calais. The ferry trip from Dover to Calais was uneventful, the most remarkable thing being that it started as scheduled at 3.45 a.m. Pete managed to snatch a few winks but as ever, sleeping while sitting upright is not an option for me. So I spent my time memorising (not intentionally, no) the Formula 1 statistics and odd facts that were printed on the walls (why Formula 1 factoids on a ferry? who knows!). Interesting things like: the wear and tear on the brakes of a Formula 1 car in ONE race is the equivalent of 10 years worth on a normal car used normally; From a normal seating position, with all seat belts fastened, and whilst wearing his usual driving equipment, a driver must be able to remove the steering wheel and get out of the car within five seconds and then replace the steering wheel within a total of 10 seconds.
I have more such useless information cluttering my brain but I will refrain from doing the same to this post, out of consideration for the few readers I have - do I hear sighs of relief?
The ferry docked at Calais port bright and early at around 5.30am. I had thought we would base ourselves there and drive to nearby places, but Pete decided he wanted to drive onward. We were somewhat hampered by the fact that the car was by now running on petrol fumes, so we drove around looking rather desperately for a petrol station. Finally found a tiny one in the middle of Calais that would open at 6 a.m.
Since we had 15 minutes to kill, I took the opportunity to wander around and found the Town Hall - a colourful building that reminded me of wedding cake. Its imposing belfry looked like it was made of iron, in surprising contrast to the rest of the building.
In front of the Town Hall was the famous Six Burghers of Calais statue made (sculpted? created?) by Rodin, to commemorate the 6 brave citizens who were ready to give up their lives in return for the safety of the rest of Calais' population when they surrendered to England's Edward III after a year-long siege. (Phew. Talk about history encapsulated. Take the time for a few deep breaths before going on to the next sentence!).
The only thing I found annoying was that I couldnt take a photo of just the statue - the Town Hall building kept getting in the background. On the other hand, I managed to take a photo of a butterfly that landed on one of the statues' head - taking a rest before targeting the flowers, I suppose. Anyway, it's my one puny effort at Nature photography, haha.
The garden around the statue was beautiful - the flower arrangements were exotic (compared to what I see in Shrewsbury) and very, very colourful, a real feast for the eyes.
Even better was a traffic circle which had a bush shaped to look like a peacock's long neck - and the colourful spread of its feathers was duplicated by multicoloured flowers. I tried my best to get a photo of it as a whole, but again, trees/buildings/power lines/lamp-posts kept popping up no matter what angle I tried. It was the loveliest flower arrangement I've seen on the ground, and the photo does it no justice at all. Especially as it was taken in the early morning light (which wasnt enough).
A few dozen photos later (of which only a few were worthwhile, actually), the car replete with petrol by then, we were on our way again. Our destination was Luxembourg, that little country stuck between France, Germany and Holland. I had been there before and loved the place, although I had not seen enough of it in the short time I spent there. And since Pete had not been there at all, it seemed like a good place to (re)visit.
From Calais, it's a very short driving distance to the Belgian border (or the Dutch one, for that matter). Even if I hadnt seen the big notice that announced "Belgie", I would have known I was on Belgian roads because of the lunatic traffic. Imagine, if you will, the inconsiderate, undisciplined, discourteous Indian drivers - then imagine that sort of driving ethic at speeds in excess of 80 miles per hour (about 130kmph), and you have a pretty accurate idea of Belgian drivers.
It was nerve-wracking to see vehicles muscling in with barely enough space between our car and the one in front, without even a blink to indicate the sudden changing of lanes - and almost the very next moment, the vehicle would move back to the original lane. And I'm talking about those enormous 18-wheeler container trucks playing "tag" with each other in fast-moving traffic. My first impression of Belgian traffic as being terrible was set in reinforced concrete this time around. No wonder you hear police/ambulance sirens ALL the time in this country!
To think Brussels, with its hazardous drivers, is the seat of the EU, the place from which all rules - from traffic to work laws - are handed out to the UK and sought to be enforced. I think Brussels should look to its laws being followed by Belgians before it sets its sights elsewhere!
Whatever, it was a relief to bypass Brussels and get onto the motorway to Luxembourg. The drive is pleasant in more ways than one - for one thing, the views are spectacular... forests, mountains, valleys, rivers. It was unspoilt and beautiful, at least on the surface.
We reached Luxembourg at about midday. After a drive around the city centre, trying to find a hotel that didnt look like it would charge a year's income for a night's stay, Pete finally decided on one called Le Royal (good decision - it only charged half a year's income, hah). No complaints about the service, the room, the atmosphere - they were all luxurious almost to a fault.
We watched the car disappear into the bowels of the parking lot, escorted by a valet. Then, after a shower, we set off on our cycles. Luxembourg is a lovely city, set in the mountains, so that you get spectacular views off bridges (and there are many) that have been built over the Rivers Petrusse and Alzette.
The old town is in the bowels of the valley, and the buildings there are beautiful - especially viewed from above, they look like toy models. The modern part of the city is almost as pretty, and neater than any place I've ever been to. Although there were lots of dogs being walked (or carried), there wasnt any poo.
Our cycles really came into their own in the town centre. Had we been in the car, we would have had trouble finding a place to park. And of course, we would have had to curtail our alcohol consumption keeping in mind the driving back part. That is, Pete would have had that problem. But as things were, we cycled merrily around, following road rules and keeping to the cycle paths where possible - but more often than not, riding down footpaths on the wrong side of the road, not even worrying about one-ways.
For the first hour or so, we rode around getting familiar with the city centre, checking out the monuments and shops. A lot of the shops were shut, it being a weekend, but the cafes were all open. The Place Guillaume (I bet my spelling is wrong - bloody French words), the big square with cafes all around, and a stage in the centre, was THE place to be, so we settled there. At Chi-chi, a Mexican eatery and outdoor cafe, on my insistence. Well why not? At least they werent offering up snails for our gastronomic pleasure! And I like Mexican food.
Anyway, the cafe was a perfect choice - we had a VERY good looking waiter. Unfortunately I dont have a good photo (Pete kindly took this one because I didnt want make my admiration obvious to the waiter!) but it gives a general idea. Whatsisname didnt speak much - any - English but he had a killer smile and understood just fine when we pointed at items on the menu, so all went very well.
It was a nice relaxed evening spent in the shade of an umbrella, watching various kinds of people (some unidentifiable as to gender) walking around, surreptitiously admiring the waiter (Pete declined to join me in this), and slowly drinking a large jugful of wonderful strawberry margarita. Pete opted for sangria, but margaritas are my special joy.
At the end of the evening, after the band playing live music at the square had gone home and the cafes were closing, we wobbled around town some more on our cycles,l taking some very bad (all mine) night photographs before heading back to the hotel. I think the national library looks beautiful despite my best efforts!
All in all, it had been such a lovely relaxing day, and we'd still seen so little of the city that we decided to stay all of Sunday as well, and leave on Monday.
***
Part 2 to follow.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Back to the Highlands
I always find it exciting to drive up to the Highlands for a whole lot of reasons, not the least being that Pete and I start from home at an unearthly hour of the morning. It's about the only way I'll get up at 3 a.m - willingly. (Done more than my share of early-morning rising in Singapore, waking up at 2.30 a.m to start work at 4 a.m!).
Anyhow, this trip didnt even warrant getting up early - because I didnt get to bed at all the previous night! Neither did Pete (he was working on his software, I was packing & etc), but he deals a lot better with lack of sleep than I do. So we set off at 3 a.m Friday (or very late Thursday night, to look at it another way), intending to arrive at Crubenmore by midday at the latest. Driving at ungodly hours has its advantages - there's hardly any traffic, and Pete could belt along at 120 miles per hour. We got there at 11 a.m or thereabouts, including a 2-hour halt for some much needed sleep. Some 400 miles in 6 hours... not bad going!
The Crubenbeg holiday cottages at Crubenmore, where we normally stay, are the self-catering type, really cosy, with fantastic views all around. They're run by two very nice ladies - an Irishwoman and a Swiss. The cottages are beautifully isolated in the hills, yet it's only a 5-minute drive to the main road. The nearest village (with a shop) is Newtonmore, about 8 miles away. It was a pleasure to wake up in the morning and drive down to Newtonmore to pick up fresh bread, rolls, butter, etc and go back to the cottage for a nice leisurely breakfast, looking out of the window at the towering hills and watching the odd pheasant or quail scamper across the lawn outside.
Anyhow, this trip didnt even warrant getting up early - because I didnt get to bed at all the previous night! Neither did Pete (he was working on his software, I was packing & etc), but he deals a lot better with lack of sleep than I do. So we set off at 3 a.m Friday (or very late Thursday night, to look at it another way), intending to arrive at Crubenmore by midday at the latest. Driving at ungodly hours has its advantages - there's hardly any traffic, and Pete could belt along at 120 miles per hour. We got there at 11 a.m or thereabouts, including a 2-hour halt for some much needed sleep. Some 400 miles in 6 hours... not bad going!
The Crubenbeg holiday cottages at Crubenmore, where we normally stay, are the self-catering type, really cosy, with fantastic views all around. They're run by two very nice ladies - an Irishwoman and a Swiss. The cottages are beautifully isolated in the hills, yet it's only a 5-minute drive to the main road. The nearest village (with a shop) is Newtonmore, about 8 miles away. It was a pleasure to wake up in the morning and drive down to Newtonmore to pick up fresh bread, rolls, butter, etc and go back to the cottage for a nice leisurely breakfast, looking out of the window at the towering hills and watching the odd pheasant or quail scamper across the lawn outside.
Pete spent most of the days working at the shop in Laggan (a tiny village about 11 miles away), so I had a lot of time for solo walks. Plus our cottage had loads of books to read, and I'd taken my embroidery along. The weather was gorgeous - bright and sunny, but with no real warmth from the sunshine.
Could there be anything better than taking a few snacks and an interesting book to the Truim Falls (5-minute walk down the path from our cottage), then sit on a convenient rock beneath the bridge, reading? I dont think so! It was absolutely peaceful and relaxing. The Truim Falls are supposed to be famous for salmon that make their way upstream, but I didnt see any this time - or, indeed, any of the previous times. Perhaps spring is the wrong season... or daytime the wrong time to look for leaping salmon. Who knows!
On Sunday, Pete took some time off for a short circular walk (about a mile, I guess) by the Trium Falls and, later, a drive into the woody hills. I drove for a while - and my goodness, the forest track was a bouncy jouncy ride, allright. And once we reached the really terrible ruts (made during the winter, I presume, by whatever wide-tread machinery was used to cut down the trees), the Range Rover fought me like it had a life of its own, so Pete had to take over. We would have followed the track up to Trium Woods Viewpoint, but halfway up, the path was blocked by a huge tree across the track, uprooted whole by the wind. So that was the end of that.
As always, it was a wrench when we had to leave the Highlands to come back to Shrewsbury... they mountains are so beautiful, so rugged and peaceful, there is so little pollution. It feels like life would be perfect if we could only live there permanently. But I guess I wouldnt love it quite so much in the winter months, because the scenery would be very bleak - none of the cheerful bright greenery that appears in late spring and summer... and there would be every chance of the electricity lines going down, being snowed in and cut off from civilisation, etc. Still, I can dream...
More pics here
Thursday, February 17, 2005
The pond in The Dingle
View of the Dingle (a pretty landscaped garden with a serene pond) set in the middle of the Quarry, which is a big open green, with River Severn running through it, in the middle of the town.
The Dingle again
A wider view of the Dingle, which is set in a depression within the Quarry grounds. The brown hedge at the top runs right around the Dingle. The paths wind around flower beds, which are wildly colourful in the summer, but right now are just green and grassy.
Dumb duck!
Bah, the mallard twisted its neck around to rootle in its feathers - JUST as I clicked! Till then it was posing nicely, showing off the iridiscent green feathers that I wanted to catch on camera.
Weeping willows in winter
Graceful trees, these - and beautifully green in the summer. Still pretty now, though.
Unknown beautiful flowers
If only I could capture the fragrance of these flowers... they bloom only in winter and they smell heavenly! The rest of the year, they have dull green, sharp-edged leaves that scratch unwary passers-by who get too close to it. (I discovered both these facts myself - by hands-on experience, shall we say). Dunno what the plant is called.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Quiet place by River Severn - watercolour
I wanted to put up a few photos of places around Shrewsbury but the albums appear to be hiding... so pending the discovery of those photos, I decided to post a photo of a water-colour that I did last year (while learning the basics of water-colour painting).
Anyway, this is my favourite place by the river in the park/play area/open grounds called The Quarry, in Shrewsbury. The exercise of artistic licence has removed any traces of benches by the riverbank, and also of people sitting there! :) I like my favourite place to be peaceful and without pesky kids fooling around - if only in my imagination.
PS. Anybody at all genuinely artistic - please reserve your comments! I'm aware of my limitations as a painter!
(Princess, this goes ESPECIALLY for you, you multi-talented multi-faceted multi-personality! ;) )
Sunday, January 30, 2005
COVENT GARDEN merry-go-round
The lovely, beautifully lit-up, old-fashioned merry-go-round at Covent Garden square...
Wooden hand-painted panels inside the church
This beautiful wooden structure with the hand-painted scenes took up a section of one wall inside the church... absolutely gorgeous, and what colours! My camera wasnt powerful/fundoo enough to get it right...
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