Paris -- A Movable Feast.

A group of young men and women dressed in running gear practiced diligently on a quiet street, cheering each other loudly. The street was empty but for the odd vehicle that silently passed by. The sun had started to set, casting its golden glow on the athletes and the surroundings; the sky, meanwhile, turned a deep shade of orange with streaks of crimson, violet, and silver. The evening chill has started to set in, and so has the drizzle. This scene could be happening anywhere, except the cheering is in French, and the street is flanked by the Seine on one side and the Louvre on the other. As I walk along the river towards the gleaming Eiffel Tower, soaking and shivering in the rain and yet smiling at the setting sun and the colourful sky, I realised that the moment perfectly encapsulated the city for me.

I had not planned anything about my trip to Paris. I had done no research and booked no tickets, I hadn’t read any books set in Paris, neither did I watch any movies set in the city. It may sound like weird, but I wanted to discover Paris at my own pace, in my own space.

The beauty of Paris dawns upon you the moment you step into the city—whether you are in a residential area with tall, imposing apartment blocks, quaint streetside cafes, and tiny neighbourhood shops, or in the historical center with palaces, boulevards, museums and bridges. Paris leaves you awestruck. But then the very foundation of Paris is based on grandeur—from the teardrop shaped island that gave birth to the city, to the medieval castles and palaces, and the not-so-old boulevards and avenues built by emperors and kings. The grandest of all, however, is the majestic iron and steel structure in the heart of the city.

 

 

The Eiffel Tower was built as a temporary exhibit to commemorate the 100 years of French Revolution, but such was its impact on the city and its people—including the Nazi general who defied Hitler’s order to demolish it—that it was never taken down. Decades later, it still stands tall and proud as a symbol of Gustav Eiffel’s defiance.

I had, of course, seen my share of pictures of the Eiffel Tower, but I had no idea of its magnitude. And now that I was right in front of it, I could not believe my eyes. The 324 meter high spire pierces through the sky and it golden metal glistens and glimmers in all its might. I almost topple over as I crane my neck to catch its peak. It’s only when you see the Eiffel Tower you know what it is—truly a marvel.

There are many ways to see Paris—on a bus, by the metro, through curated tours, and by personalised taxi services. However, I felt like walking. That was, in my view, the best way to get to know a place. I also realise that though I had very little time, there was a lot to do. Who returns from Paris without going to the Arc de Triomphe or the Louvre? So I decide to hop on to the underground for longer distances and walk the rest of the way.

My first stop is Ile de la Cite, the island where Paris was born. While the tiny island boasts of places of historical significance, like the gothic Notre Dame and Sainte-Chapelle, it is the adjacent island of Ile Saint Louis where I am headed. Dotted with cafes, lined with bookstores and boutiques, this neighborhood boasts of 17^th century architecture and is dedicated to the good life that Parisians cherish. As a traveller, my choices were limited to sipping coffee, ambling along the Seine, watching a street performance, or just wandering on the streets.

 

And so, I spend my morning ambling in the lanes of Latin Quarters, watching a cute boy play accordion, shopping for souvenirs, and stuffing myself with cheap Greek sandwich and a strangely tart Fanta.

"Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers Lest They Be Angels in Disguise”. The words displayed prominently on the wall tell me that I am finally at Shakespeare and Company, the playground of world famous writers like Ezra Pound, Ernest Hemingway, and James Joyce. Set up in 1919, it happens to be the oldest English bookstore in Paris and a must-do on my itinerary.

The store is famous not only for its literary significance—which is huge—but also because it offers shelter to anyone who may need it. The only catch—you have to be friendly with the resident cat. Apart from the cat, and the two beds, the place is overflowing with books of all kinds. The tiny room on the first floor has people sitting by the sunlit window browsing and reading. Muffled sounds and bits of conversation filter in from the window, but it is still quiet inside. Strangers smile and make conversation with each other even as they squeeze through the tiny doors and narrow walkways. As I pick up a collection of love poems from a shelf dedicated to verses, the man next to me smiles in approval.

Paris has been a torchbearer of fashion and style for centuries and no place in the city demonstrates this better than the Champs Elysees. It is said that the famous brand H&M was denied space here for years because the authorities believed that the shop would turn the elite high street into a commercial marketplace. You know what they meant when you take a stroll along the avenue flanked by the likes of Tiffany’s, Chanel, Breitling and more. A short metro ride has brought me to the most coveted High Street in the world, and I must confess that I felt embarrassingly underdressed in my pink sneakers and tacky jeans. But what is a traveller that cannot overcome embarrassment to enjoy the moment? Forgetting all about my attire, I join the chic locals in window-shopping. Soon I become one of them.

While people from world over go to look at Paris, Paris enjoys looking at people. People watching is serious business here. Whether it is sitting by the Seine watching the boats cruise by, and waving at the tourists occasionally, or sipping espresso from tiny mugs while smoking cigarette after cigarette, smiling at the passerby, you will always see the Parisians relaxed and smiling.

As they say, when in Paris, do as Parisians—so I decide to indulge in some people watching too.

It is late evening now and I am in the gardens of the Louvre. The sun is still shining bright and the sky is as blue as it can possibly be. A little distance away, a lady plays ball with her tiny dog. A little further away, some young men are having a picnic. Around me in the hedge, two boys play hide and seek. In front of me, a group of girls jump every few seconds, trying to coordinate their smiles with their height of the leap to get the perfect picture. Across the museum, on the far end of the horizon, I see the Mona Lisa smiling at the world, and at the other end of the horizon stands the majestic Eiffel Tower. I know I have to keep my appointment with it in the evening, but for now I lay on the grass, happy and content, experiencing the joy of Paris through its people.  

Oh! The Places You'll Go

If there was one thing I did in 2017, it was travel. Mostly across the country, sometimes across continents. I travelled on the first day of the year, and the last, and also many, many days in between. I went to some old places, and many, new ones. Which then were my favourite?

 

1. How do you even begin to describe a city that has books written after it? How do you, try to bring out the story of a city that is over two thousand years old? How do you put on paper the spirit of a city so vibrant that colours fail to describe it? You cannot, and do not fit Paris into words. You only try to capture some elements of it and do your best to paint a picture with words hoping it will be a tribute to a great city. Paris had me at its buildings and squares, people and dogs, parks and streets, river and cruises. I cannot wait to be back!

  

2. Brussels encompasses many worlds in one. From having a hauntingly beautiful town center, buzzing with tourists and visitors, to having a chic and swank business district inhabited by Gucci and Armani clad business executives; from narrow winding lanes that transport you back in time to sprawling parks that help you rest your aching feet, there is so much to see and do, that 5 days seemed inadequate. 

 

3. Flanked by two hamlets called Prantik and Bolpur, and two tiny rivers called Kopai and Khoai, Shantiniketan lives in times gone by. People commute on bicycles or on foot, motor vehicles are hard to find, food is served on dried leave pattals or in clay pots. Roadside shacks do not serve anything other than tea, and touristy things are hard to find. My father always wanted me to study in Vishwabharati and I had laughed his suggestion off, after being there I realized why.

4. Heritage is everywhere in Bruges. In the squares that make the scenic heart of the city, and the horse-drawn carriages that trot around the Markt; in Belfort and in the grand old buildings which date back at least a few centuries. While the entire town is surreal, it is the houses that adorn the narrow, tree lined streets, which stole my heart. Identical in nature, tall and narrow, these townhouses with bell shaped roofs, tiny windows, and brick facades stand testimony to a rich, if turbulent, history of the economic capital of Flanders. As if the houses aren’t enough, the pointy gilded architecture, linger-on cafés, vivid art, people on bikes, and meandering canals dotted with swans further add to the dreaminess of Bruges.

 

5. My girls and I often talk about going back to and settling down in Disneyland. They will work at the park they say, I can be the aunty at the ticket window, and the father can perhaps be an usher. Nothing had prepared us for Disneyland. Neither the websites that I had browsed for hours, nor the brochures that I had found in the apartment the night before; not the things I had read up, not the pictures I had seen. What made Disneyland unforgettable for me was passion with which they work to make you smile and the joy they spread. So much happiness in one place is hard to find. I left a part of me in Disneyland.

 

6. Ghent is often referred to as the hidden treasure of Belgium. A lesser-known university town, which is often overlooked in elaborate itineraries, happens to be an electric blend of traditional and modern. Dominated by the gothic bell-tower and the mediaval count's castle, the quaint town is all about cobbled streets, narrow lanes, gliding tramcars and meandering canals.

 

 

7. A tiny town in the heart of rural Bengal, surrounded by paddy fields and hutments, flanked by low hills and lakes, little known to the outside world, and taken for granted by the locals — Bishnupur, at first glance, may seem like an ordinary hamlet, displaying no visible sign of being an important centre on the historical and cultural map of West Bengal. Reaching Bishnupur is a task, but, once you get there, the town rewards you with humble people, magnificent sights, and exquisite craft.

  

8. Allahabad is hardly a new place. It is a city I called home, a place where I learnt about love and life, friendship and jealousy. But it is also home to Anand Bhavan, Sangam, Civil Lines, and Gangaji. I went back to Allahabad after 20 years and was glad that not much has changed. The bungalows are still as beautiful, the schools still as grand, the university still as awe inspiring, and the food still as soulful.

 

9. When we could not find an apartment in Amsterdam, I was heartbroken. I moped and cried and cursed my luck. When I finally arrived in Harleem, I knew why they say what happens happens for good. A quiet quaint town, with tiny townhouses, imposing cathedral, sprawling town square, beautiful art galleries and designer boutiques, and no people. Harleem, to me, was the perfect antidote to the noisy, crowded Amsterdam.

10. So, I almost left Amsterdam out even though it is touted as one of the world's most popular places. Why then, did I not like it? Well! It could just be bad timing. I arrived in Amsterdam on a Friday morning when the whole world seemed to have descended upon the Dam Square. On to of it I was with kids, and tired from ten days of travel. So, I guess it is not as much about the place as it is about the circumstances. What I loved about Amsterdam however was the water, and how integral it is to the city, how so many people live in the canals, in boats which have water and electricity connection, and a permanent address. Will I give Amsterdam another chance? Maybe not. There is so much to see in the world, why get stuck to a place.

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2017: A year of great food

Okay! So this post comes a little late. Three days to be precise. But then, when most people were summing up their year, I was busy making the most of the remaining days of 2017 by travelling some more. 

2017 was a year full of travel for me (which one isn’t?). It started in January with Hyderabad, and went on to Calcutta, Bolpur, Shantiniketan, Lucknow, Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Ghent, Bruges, Jaipur, Jamshedpur, Bishnupur, Bangalore, Allahabad, Jabalpur, and of course Delhi, Gurgaon and Mumbai. This also meant a lot of good food and some unforgettable experiences. From the biriyani of Hyderabad, to the kebabs of Lucknow, from the fries of Belgium to the cuberdons of Ghent, from benne dosas in Bangalore, to papad ki sabzi in Jaipur. 

Here is a little recap of some of the great meals I had in 2017. 

Mithai & luchi at Bandel Junction. 

 

1. This, perhaps, was the most unexpected of all of my food experiences ever. A wrong train, an unknown station, being stranded for hours, unsure of what to do next. But food saved the day. The rasmalai from this man at the platform, followed by two air-light luchis and alu tarkari and some freshly cut cucumber nourished me on this cold January morning. 

Kusum Rolls in Park Street, Calcutta.

2. They say if you haven’t eaten at Kusum Rolls in Calcutta, you have not eaten anything. Okay! I made that one up. But then the rolls here are legendary and world famous. Crispy on the outside, soft and chewy inside, filled with the most flavourful chicken, finished with a dash of chillis, fried onions, and sauces. Okay! I am not salivating. 

Chaat in Lucknow.

3. It could also be my bias towards the city and its food (after all I am a lucknow girl), but then I truly believe there is no better chaat in the world than the one found in the streets of my city. The burst in your mouth pani ke batashe, the tangy dahi-batashe, the tender nimbu ki matar, the crispy alu-tikki. If you have not eaten the chaat in Lucknow, you must do that now. (I will help you get there and eat also if you want!).

Frites in Brussels

 

4. While most people were busy eating mussels, I was content with my fries in Brussels (that’s poetic, I know!). Dense, rich, and doused in mustard mayonnaise or ketchup. They were quite a handful and a mouthful too, and nothing like the limp, tiny fries you are used to in India. But, I must admit, they were too many and by the end of it I was looking at someone who could rid me of the burden. 

Waffles in Belgium

 

5. I have a confession here. Until May this year, when I went to Belgium, I had never had waffles. I had had the waffle cone with ice creams, but I had no idea that the real waffle was soft and airy, almost bland, and yet satisfying. Thankfully that changed this year. The waffle I had was freshly made by a frowning woman, and handed over after waiting for more than 10 minutes in a long queue. It was crisp on the outside and airy inside. Topped with rich beligian chocolate, and icing sugar, it was, by far, the most beautiful dessert I have ever had. 

Akoori, Cheese Rolls at Cafe Regal, Jamshedpur.

 

6. Akoori, Cheese rolls, and Parsi Bhonu in a town set up by the first Parsi family of India. My experiences in my home-town-in-law are mostly dominated by husband’s choice of places. But the town is ever evolving in terms of food and we got to experience that at Cafe Regal in Jamshedpur this year. The akoori was smooth and spicy, velvety and flavourful, the coffee was world-class, and the cheese balls were fried to perfection. We went there thrice in three days. The final day was made of dhansak, brown rice, sweet and spicy chicken, and apple pie. Cannot wait to go back. 

Benne Dosa at Airlines hotel, Bangalore

 

7. While MTR is an inseparable part of me, this time, I discovered Airlines hotel in Bangalore. I had always known about the place, but had somehow, not gotten down to eating there. On a nippy Sunday morning, I finally made my way to one of the oldest Dosa places in town and spent more than an hour devouring this piece of art under hundred year old trees, among kannada speaking people, and with strong, sweet filter coffee. I think MTR has competition now. 

Luchi and Ghugni at Bondhu Hotel, Bishnupur

 

8. Nothing explains the law of diminishing marginal utility like a meal. The first few morsels, are the tastiest and most satisfying, the last few, often seem like a burden. On this morning, when I was famished by a three-hour long early morning drive, a warm meal of luchi-ghugni at a nondescript place in Bishnupur filled me with warmth and happiness. I can still feel the softness of the luchi and the flavour of the ghugni. The mishti that came afterwards was the icing on the cake. 

Idlis & chutney at Sendhoor Cafe, Bangalore. 

 

9. I am not an idli person, so having a meal of idlis on this list means something. This, also, is the second place from Bangalore, which is hardly surprising: I could make the entire list out of the garden city, and maybe I will soon. Anyway, the idlis were a discovery in the land of dosa. They were soft and fluffy and melted in the mouth. The chutneys were so hot that I sweated through the meal, the sambar was so falvourful that I am salivating as I type. I think I am shifting back to Bangalore soon.

Samosa at every random halwai in Allahabad

10. What’s in a samosa, you may ask. A lot, I say. Having spent almost all of my life in North India, I have had the chance, or should I call it a privilege, of eating samosas day and night (I know it shows!). I have had it from the most fancy shops to the most dilapidated stalls,  from those filled with exotic dry fruit and fried in ghee, to the ones with barely any filling, fried in overused oil, but one thing is for sure, there is no samosa like the Allahabad ka Samosa. The crust is flaky, crisp, and perfectly fried. The filling is tangy and spicy, and it hits you hard if you are not used to it. Take a small piece of the crust with a tiny portion of potatoes, and dip it in the sweet and sour chutney, and you’d never eat any other samosa again.

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