I must have read the words 'Queen of Adriatic' when I was about eleven accompanying a faded color picture of Venice - a town with no conventional streets, where you go by boat to get groceries. In those days glossy printed books with a lot of color pictures were not that common in our house owing to the money such things cost. I probably saw it in a bookstore in my hometown, called Higginbothams. Since then the romance of Venice has always been close to surface, the highpoint being the delightful movie Casanova capturing Venice in all its glory.
That morning from the point when the train rolled out of the Santa Maria Novella station, I repeated aloud all the stations lining our journey to Venezia Santa Lucia, the words rolling warmly off my tongue, as I gazed at the earthy tones of the scenes outside. As the train moved past Padua and Verona, I felt the words of Shakespeare accompanying me throughout. How many Shakespeare plays are set in Italy; I wondered why. Where art thou Romeo? Petruchio too, for that matter.
I have always felt the two plays set in Venice the most tragic, even more so than Romeo and Juliet. Othello and Merchant of Venice have more tragic figures and are darker than the rest. By the time I got down I was so lost thinking about Antonio and Iago that it was a jolt to see people in their modern attire.
The station was beautiful, the water lapping on the sides and I got my first glimpse of Venice. It was very similar to my feelings when I first saw Bath. It was real! Whatever that was there in artist renderings, picture postcards, period movies etc. is not just one small building somewhere but really the whole city. How could a whole city possibly be so cute?
We spent the next hour in a slow boat drifting across the grand canal taking pictures of various buildings. The buildings were elegant but did not seem like they were lived in. Many seemed like empty facades - a few refurbished and rebuilt shiny ones with bright green trees stood in contrast. It was certainly very touristy - with most people giving the impression they were there for short term - I wondered if there truly were locals or whether the whole town was an elaborate set. We drifted past smaller lanes admiring the buildings and finally deciding enough of the canals made our way to the Piazza San Marco.
No one mentioned the pigeons I thought, seeing the hundreds of pigeons on the way and in the piazza. We crossed St.Mark's lion into the square filled with tourists. There were musicians playing to the lunch crowd, human chatter filled the air and I could see why Napoleon called it the drawing room of Europe.
I first walked the length of the square, taking in the facade of the Doge's palace, imagining the bustle of bureaucracy, though something like that is hard to imagine here - everything seems to be in holiday mode.
I gazed around the various buildings, spent some time taking pictures of the campanile, the pigeons and the musicians, taking time to approach the Basilica. I wanted to savor the moment and was fully rewarded.
The Byzantine architecture with its domes, interior arches, the mosaic, the ceiling, the whole Mediterranean feel was a very unique experience. More than anything else, the Basilica is the best example of Venice's cosmopolitan nature. It somehow made it believable that a Shylock or an Othello lived in this town. For that matter Casanova too..
I made my way to the two columns - Lion of St.Mark as well as the one with St.Theodore and sat down enjoying the music drifting across and the sun on my face.
We slowly drifted to a by-lane and sitting by the water ate a large thin crust pizza. The afternoon wore off, sounds of water and voices speaking in Italian, occasional noise of a gondola filled the air and I felt la dolce vita.
We slowly walked the various streets in the general direction of the Rialto stopping often and a few time getting lost in one of the shops. I bought a small fridge magnet made like a venetian mask instead of opting for a real one and then determined to buy something of Muranno glass I spent time peering over various objects. Some of the vases were gaudy and not intricate, besides were above my price point and I kept my attention to the smaller pieces. I settled for some glass fruits and chocolates. I thought I was done but saw a beautiful set of frogs and a lady bug that I had to buy. Happily collecting my souvenirs, I wandered the streets admiring the scene and finally reached the Rialto. It grew late and I stood there lost in the scene before me.
Venezia, even the name was romantic! I sighed and leaned against the bridge. The cliched yet very real image of a gondola drifting on the smaller water lane against the evening sky and music from some window will remain in my memories for a very long time
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Day 13 : The importance of leaning
Next day morning saw us rise and shine early on under the warm Italian sun on our way to Pisa. Our travel was getting adventurous as most of it was unplanned by this time. I did not have a map, no tourist guides and when we landed in Pisa centrale no idea where to go. As we walked out SR spotted a group of nuns who looked like they were from Kerala and pushed me in their direction. Turns out they were from Nagerkoil and we had a pleasant conversation. Forgetting my purpose I spent the next few minutes happily interviewing them. They were serving in Pisa, many of them and visit home once a year or so, their accommodations and facilities were very nice, they cooked at home and they spoke excellent Italian. The older sister got me tickets to a bus and pointed me to the bus stop and told me where to get down. Heres to forgetting guide books.
As the bus moved on I strained my neck to catch a glimpse of a tower rising above the horizon, above the buildings. But none was visible, not even until we arrived at the very stop. Strangely despite the many pictures I have seen of various things, the leaning tower of Pisa has not been one of them and when I got down and came in line with the gate of the wall it was a delightful shock to see that little tower peeping from behind two larger structures like an impish child.
The tower was somehow smaller than what I had thought and we spent the next few minutes clicking pictures and wandering about the lawn. Beneath a blue sky with puffy clouds the tower looked like a wedding cake about to topple. The rest of the party decided to climb the tower while I elected to stay firmly on the ground. Flashbacks of me huffing and puffing, feeling dizzy climbing the steps to the Vatican dome and all the warnings about people with nausea was one reason. The other was to enjoy the Duomo peacefully. I liked my decision and wandered into the cathedral and spent the next many minutes viewing the renaissance paintings and the pulpit and the mosaic. Later when I came out to sit under the Tuscan sun, I wondered what the moral was. That you need to be out of ordinary to be noticed, that there can be a lot of bell towers but this one has achieved fame because it dared to be different or that a small piece of notoriety can take the attention away from a beautiful piece of architecture which really is the Duomo. I vaguely remembered reading somewhere there were two other leaning towers as well. Perhaps the moral is it all depends on how you market a trait.
The rest of the party joined me with their experiences of climbing the tower and we walked out towards the souvenir shops. A couple of policemen stopped by in their cars and posed for pictures with the tourists. I thought that was amusing - no one would care to take a picture with the policemen in India, the swamis are probably better looking.
We wandered about for some more time drinking in the scenery and then caught the train back to Florence. The day was balmy and we walked about the streets and I reflected upon my favorite hero - the archetype of a renaissance man, in many ways an idol - Da Vinci. Florence is an ancient city, I like to think its similar to my hometown - a living city yet with a rich culture and history. Da Vinci worked here and probably saw similar sights as he pondered on his works. It was not just the city of Da Vinci, but the city of Dante and Macchiavelli and Boticelli. I reflected on the Medici family and the paintings I saw in London and Paris.
We walked the length of the river bank drinking in the beautiful scene and then towards the Duomo. The cathedral, baptistery and the bell tower were stunning despite the many structures I have seen in the last few years. We spent some time walking around and in gazing at the buildings from different points admiring the intricate details and then much later ambled toward the piazza della signoria.
The most memorable parts of a city are often very different from what you expect from tour books when you are in one. It was the river bank in London, the sweeping boulevards in Paris and in Italy its no doubt the piazzas. These large squares, truly large and the looming buildings surrounding them is such intelligent design that I was most impressed. The afternoon was a delightful blur as we went from Piazza de Duomo towards Piazza della Signoria and later to Piazzale degli Uffizi.
I felt like a kid in a candy shop that whole day - Donatello, Cellini, Boticelli -with the highpoint of David. This David is my favorite as the experts say his pose is casual he seems to have decided on the fight but this statue captures the moment before he actually used the sling with furrowed brows and taut muscles. I like the cerebral nature of the statue and it was a thrilling moment to gaze at those eyes.
After what felt like walking many hundred miles in and out seeing many exhibits, we took a stroll amidst a light street painters. We bought some souvenirs, clicked some pictures and eventually came back to the river and enjoyed the evening sun. It is not just art but science too that has flourished. I recollected the statue of Galileo and also the painting in the Duomo at Pisa.
Leaning on the wall staring at the distance, I wondered what made Renaissance possible. It was this city, but what in this city - the patrons? Was it a happy confluence of a wealthy, powerful discerning patrons with abundant talent that caused the turn towards the renaissance. Perhaps I was being simplistic but standing there I could feel the excitement that must have been in the air in the medieval times. Science and art going hand in hand - Galileo and Da Vinci walking this same path - it was a heady feeling.
As the bus moved on I strained my neck to catch a glimpse of a tower rising above the horizon, above the buildings. But none was visible, not even until we arrived at the very stop. Strangely despite the many pictures I have seen of various things, the leaning tower of Pisa has not been one of them and when I got down and came in line with the gate of the wall it was a delightful shock to see that little tower peeping from behind two larger structures like an impish child.
The tower was somehow smaller than what I had thought and we spent the next few minutes clicking pictures and wandering about the lawn. Beneath a blue sky with puffy clouds the tower looked like a wedding cake about to topple. The rest of the party decided to climb the tower while I elected to stay firmly on the ground. Flashbacks of me huffing and puffing, feeling dizzy climbing the steps to the Vatican dome and all the warnings about people with nausea was one reason. The other was to enjoy the Duomo peacefully. I liked my decision and wandered into the cathedral and spent the next many minutes viewing the renaissance paintings and the pulpit and the mosaic. Later when I came out to sit under the Tuscan sun, I wondered what the moral was. That you need to be out of ordinary to be noticed, that there can be a lot of bell towers but this one has achieved fame because it dared to be different or that a small piece of notoriety can take the attention away from a beautiful piece of architecture which really is the Duomo. I vaguely remembered reading somewhere there were two other leaning towers as well. Perhaps the moral is it all depends on how you market a trait.
The rest of the party joined me with their experiences of climbing the tower and we walked out towards the souvenir shops. A couple of policemen stopped by in their cars and posed for pictures with the tourists. I thought that was amusing - no one would care to take a picture with the policemen in India, the swamis are probably better looking.
We wandered about for some more time drinking in the scenery and then caught the train back to Florence. The day was balmy and we walked about the streets and I reflected upon my favorite hero - the archetype of a renaissance man, in many ways an idol - Da Vinci. Florence is an ancient city, I like to think its similar to my hometown - a living city yet with a rich culture and history. Da Vinci worked here and probably saw similar sights as he pondered on his works. It was not just the city of Da Vinci, but the city of Dante and Macchiavelli and Boticelli. I reflected on the Medici family and the paintings I saw in London and Paris.
We walked the length of the river bank drinking in the beautiful scene and then towards the Duomo. The cathedral, baptistery and the bell tower were stunning despite the many structures I have seen in the last few years. We spent some time walking around and in gazing at the buildings from different points admiring the intricate details and then much later ambled toward the piazza della signoria.
The most memorable parts of a city are often very different from what you expect from tour books when you are in one. It was the river bank in London, the sweeping boulevards in Paris and in Italy its no doubt the piazzas. These large squares, truly large and the looming buildings surrounding them is such intelligent design that I was most impressed. The afternoon was a delightful blur as we went from Piazza de Duomo towards Piazza della Signoria and later to Piazzale degli Uffizi.
I felt like a kid in a candy shop that whole day - Donatello, Cellini, Boticelli -with the highpoint of David. This David is my favorite as the experts say his pose is casual he seems to have decided on the fight but this statue captures the moment before he actually used the sling with furrowed brows and taut muscles. I like the cerebral nature of the statue and it was a thrilling moment to gaze at those eyes.
After what felt like walking many hundred miles in and out seeing many exhibits, we took a stroll amidst a light street painters. We bought some souvenirs, clicked some pictures and eventually came back to the river and enjoyed the evening sun. It is not just art but science too that has flourished. I recollected the statue of Galileo and also the painting in the Duomo at Pisa.
Leaning on the wall staring at the distance, I wondered what made Renaissance possible. It was this city, but what in this city - the patrons? Was it a happy confluence of a wealthy, powerful discerning patrons with abundant talent that caused the turn towards the renaissance. Perhaps I was being simplistic but standing there I could feel the excitement that must have been in the air in the medieval times. Science and art going hand in hand - Galileo and Da Vinci walking this same path - it was a heady feeling.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Day 12: All roads lead to..
Arriving in Rome was a heady feeling. Roma! How many books I have read, how many movies I have watched about Rome! Just walking on the streets was intoxicating - did Caeser walk the very steps, could I catch a strain of Nero's fiddle, was this here that they brought goods from Madurai in the start of the Christian era.. my mind was in a whirl of images and words.
At the station, Angeli E Demoni I noticed from the posters was coming up for release in the next month. We wandered out past the souvenir stalls towards the walled city-state of Vaticano. Vatican in itself is a fairly young city-state not even a hundred years old, different from the Holy See, I realize. The image of Pope John Paul declaring from the balcony overlooking St.Peter's square - 'Yesu piranthar' in Tamil one Christmas was one of the earliest scenes I retained from the Doordarshan days.
I stood for some time taking in the scene. The massive square is a physical representation of the grand history. The obelisk and the rows of statues looking down at us from all sides, the large columns and pillars -it was designed by Bernini after all! The marble pillars reminded me of my hometown and the palace with its large pillars.
We spent a lot of time in the square then slowly walked into the basilica. Though the current Basilica is probably only about five centuries old, this site is said to have housed a church fr at least fifteen centuries. I wondered if I could recall any other site I have visited as old as that. Like Dickens I figured I'd not forget the sensation of looking up at the dome after walking in. Michaelangelo designed this! I rented a audio guide and we spent the next few hours wandering about looking at various paintings, sculptures etc., learning about church design and the variations on this particular one and even how long it takes waiting if one wanted to get married here.
It is not so much a Da Vinci code reference check but Angels and Demons reference check. There are scenes where the Vatican is described in great detail. We took a few pictures of the elite swiss guards - Da Vinci designed their uniforms I read somewhere and made our way up to get a nice view of the city. In the coffee shop, SR asked for espresso and the vendor asked him if he really wanted the Italian espresso or Americano. He went on to explain that Italian espresso is real coffee and Americano is coffee with lot of water. SR an avid coffee drinker laughed and confirmed he wanted the shot. It was amusing to hear the American references - a woman standing queue in one of the shops rambled on in Italian when I said "excuse me" in English about how they did not want Americans and in Italy we should speak in Italian. Granted I ought to have tried to say scusi.. but I certainly didn't expect a caustic lecture. More than that it was further strange a brown eyed, brown skinned, dark haired set of tourists were being mistaken for Americans.
After a long time in Vatican quite drained and tired we slowly ambled out. Deciding to go back in time, our next stop was the Colosseum.
Visiting Rome is a feeling I will never forget in my life.. it was one of those things where you walk a few steps and you are standing in a place steeped in history. I simply stood there my mouth agape gazing at the fantastic structure. Here I was answering my own question, standing at a spot even more antiquated than the Basilica. In a moment of unaided hallucination I could hear the roar of the crowds and the lions and the shouts of the gladiators filling the air.
Scenes from Imperium and to some extent from Pompeii from the Robert Harris novels and the swashbuckling Simon Scarrow novels came to me as we slowly walked up and down what would have been the spectators seating and standing areas in the ancient times. Despite the pictures I had not expected to see it so well preserved nor had I expected this level of sophistication in the design. I could now see that the whole underground system of pathways for the animals and the slaves to popup was indeed true.
I walked about gazing at the grass covered stone structure, the empty stands, the blue sky my heart full. It was a strange feeling to stare past the iron bars in the underground area into the cells. I wondered if Spartacus stood on the very spot long ago.
After some time we ventured out to be greeted by a man dressed in old roman costume. We took the mandatory pictures and wandered towards the Arch of Constantine. I studied the inscriptions and the decorations and pondered about the arch as the ancient roman choice of architecture in comparison to the pillar as the ancient Indian choice of Ashoka some centuries before.
We walked about the Forum gazing at the ruins of the once majestic city - the temple of saturn the temple of castor and pollux, the arches - still breathtaking, defying time, mocking my own mortality.
When I crept to my bed that evening after the long day, i felt overwhelmed like a tired kid after a few hours at the fair and promptly went to sleep
At the station, Angeli E Demoni I noticed from the posters was coming up for release in the next month. We wandered out past the souvenir stalls towards the walled city-state of Vaticano. Vatican in itself is a fairly young city-state not even a hundred years old, different from the Holy See, I realize. The image of Pope John Paul declaring from the balcony overlooking St.Peter's square - 'Yesu piranthar' in Tamil one Christmas was one of the earliest scenes I retained from the Doordarshan days.
I stood for some time taking in the scene. The massive square is a physical representation of the grand history. The obelisk and the rows of statues looking down at us from all sides, the large columns and pillars -it was designed by Bernini after all! The marble pillars reminded me of my hometown and the palace with its large pillars.
We spent a lot of time in the square then slowly walked into the basilica. Though the current Basilica is probably only about five centuries old, this site is said to have housed a church fr at least fifteen centuries. I wondered if I could recall any other site I have visited as old as that. Like Dickens I figured I'd not forget the sensation of looking up at the dome after walking in. Michaelangelo designed this! I rented a audio guide and we spent the next few hours wandering about looking at various paintings, sculptures etc., learning about church design and the variations on this particular one and even how long it takes waiting if one wanted to get married here.
It is not so much a Da Vinci code reference check but Angels and Demons reference check. There are scenes where the Vatican is described in great detail. We took a few pictures of the elite swiss guards - Da Vinci designed their uniforms I read somewhere and made our way up to get a nice view of the city. In the coffee shop, SR asked for espresso and the vendor asked him if he really wanted the Italian espresso or Americano. He went on to explain that Italian espresso is real coffee and Americano is coffee with lot of water. SR an avid coffee drinker laughed and confirmed he wanted the shot. It was amusing to hear the American references - a woman standing queue in one of the shops rambled on in Italian when I said "excuse me" in English about how they did not want Americans and in Italy we should speak in Italian. Granted I ought to have tried to say scusi.. but I certainly didn't expect a caustic lecture. More than that it was further strange a brown eyed, brown skinned, dark haired set of tourists were being mistaken for Americans.
After a long time in Vatican quite drained and tired we slowly ambled out. Deciding to go back in time, our next stop was the Colosseum.
Visiting Rome is a feeling I will never forget in my life.. it was one of those things where you walk a few steps and you are standing in a place steeped in history. I simply stood there my mouth agape gazing at the fantastic structure. Here I was answering my own question, standing at a spot even more antiquated than the Basilica. In a moment of unaided hallucination I could hear the roar of the crowds and the lions and the shouts of the gladiators filling the air.
Scenes from Imperium and to some extent from Pompeii from the Robert Harris novels and the swashbuckling Simon Scarrow novels came to me as we slowly walked up and down what would have been the spectators seating and standing areas in the ancient times. Despite the pictures I had not expected to see it so well preserved nor had I expected this level of sophistication in the design. I could now see that the whole underground system of pathways for the animals and the slaves to popup was indeed true.
I walked about gazing at the grass covered stone structure, the empty stands, the blue sky my heart full. It was a strange feeling to stare past the iron bars in the underground area into the cells. I wondered if Spartacus stood on the very spot long ago.
After some time we ventured out to be greeted by a man dressed in old roman costume. We took the mandatory pictures and wandered towards the Arch of Constantine. I studied the inscriptions and the decorations and pondered about the arch as the ancient roman choice of architecture in comparison to the pillar as the ancient Indian choice of Ashoka some centuries before.
We walked about the Forum gazing at the ruins of the once majestic city - the temple of saturn the temple of castor and pollux, the arches - still breathtaking, defying time, mocking my own mortality.
When I crept to my bed that evening after the long day, i felt overwhelmed like a tired kid after a few hours at the fair and promptly went to sleep
Monday, May 25, 2009
Day 11: Journey to Italy
After the tour of the Swiss landscape, as I planned it the journey took a shift. It was a perceptible shift from the northern countries we had visited so far and the cold Swiss mountains. We were going to L'Italia!
I had chosen Florence as the place we'd visit and my faithful troop did not demur and ask why not the coast, why not Athens etc. I am eternally grateful for such wonderful friends. The morning train deposited us post noon first at Milan Centrale, a planned stop. We got out walked a bit on foot, getting a feel for the place. My first glimpse of Italy was more modern than my expectation. Its sort of like landing in Bangalore on your first trip to India, I thought to myself. The buildings housing mega corps were not ancient and designer shops abound.
We had our first Pizza in Italy, sat by a fountain and gazed at the passers-by.
After some time, I slowly ambled into the station to figure out the train to Florence. The terminus itself is a majestic building with a large dome and wide hall and I learnt it was about a century old.
SR raised a brow when he saw that there was no Florence in the departure board and after a few moments of disorientation thanks to the umpteen Mills and Boon I have read, I made the connection to the Italian name - Firenze. We walked to the information desk to ask for the validity of our tickets and I realized how little my English was going to help. With gestures to support we caught the train to Firenze and got out at some smaller outer station. I had by virtue of a map thought this station was closer to the hotel I had booked but coming out I realized how difficult things were going to be.
All the boards were in Italian naturally and we walked about trying to figure out the bus number to take us to the hotel. SR a self proclaimed expert in public transportation system, came back with tickets and the bus number. We got into the bus and then had to figure out where to get out. Via de Novoli seemed like a major road and the bus was supposed to take us there. I asked a young woman returning most probably from work if she could tell me when we reach the bus stop. She spoke rapidly to the gentleman next to her and explained to me there were three stops in Via de Novoli and naturally she didn't know which one she should point me to. The older gentleman said he will guide us and that he was getting down at Via de Novoli himself. He started talking to the woman - It was quite amusing to watch - I could almost dub the scene - a bus in Chennai, a middle aged man, a young woman the man asking so where do you work, does it take this much time to come back, its nice weather etc. etc. It never ceases to amaze me how people are often more similar than different.
We got out and thanked him and within a couple of minutes arrived at the serviced apartment. It was a residential area and we could go to the balcony and see the other apartments with familiar stuff on their balconies including dish antennas. People returning home to their families, people watching TV.. a sense of familiarity.
SR and ST looking at the kitchen decided to go out and buy groceries. The small shop nearby was like any other grocery store and after shopping for a while we returned and settled after dinner. The TV was not very interesting, seemed like more talk shows than entertainment.
I wondered if we should simply stay in Florence, though my plan was to split the journey and go to Rome and postpone the sightseeing of Florence for later. Cursing myself for not planning better I consoled myself that I get to see all the places after all, whats a little discomfort.
I had chosen Florence as the place we'd visit and my faithful troop did not demur and ask why not the coast, why not Athens etc. I am eternally grateful for such wonderful friends. The morning train deposited us post noon first at Milan Centrale, a planned stop. We got out walked a bit on foot, getting a feel for the place. My first glimpse of Italy was more modern than my expectation. Its sort of like landing in Bangalore on your first trip to India, I thought to myself. The buildings housing mega corps were not ancient and designer shops abound.
We had our first Pizza in Italy, sat by a fountain and gazed at the passers-by.
After some time, I slowly ambled into the station to figure out the train to Florence. The terminus itself is a majestic building with a large dome and wide hall and I learnt it was about a century old.
SR raised a brow when he saw that there was no Florence in the departure board and after a few moments of disorientation thanks to the umpteen Mills and Boon I have read, I made the connection to the Italian name - Firenze. We walked to the information desk to ask for the validity of our tickets and I realized how little my English was going to help. With gestures to support we caught the train to Firenze and got out at some smaller outer station. I had by virtue of a map thought this station was closer to the hotel I had booked but coming out I realized how difficult things were going to be.
All the boards were in Italian naturally and we walked about trying to figure out the bus number to take us to the hotel. SR a self proclaimed expert in public transportation system, came back with tickets and the bus number. We got into the bus and then had to figure out where to get out. Via de Novoli seemed like a major road and the bus was supposed to take us there. I asked a young woman returning most probably from work if she could tell me when we reach the bus stop. She spoke rapidly to the gentleman next to her and explained to me there were three stops in Via de Novoli and naturally she didn't know which one she should point me to. The older gentleman said he will guide us and that he was getting down at Via de Novoli himself. He started talking to the woman - It was quite amusing to watch - I could almost dub the scene - a bus in Chennai, a middle aged man, a young woman the man asking so where do you work, does it take this much time to come back, its nice weather etc. etc. It never ceases to amaze me how people are often more similar than different.
We got out and thanked him and within a couple of minutes arrived at the serviced apartment. It was a residential area and we could go to the balcony and see the other apartments with familiar stuff on their balconies including dish antennas. People returning home to their families, people watching TV.. a sense of familiarity.
SR and ST looking at the kitchen decided to go out and buy groceries. The small shop nearby was like any other grocery store and after shopping for a while we returned and settled after dinner. The TV was not very interesting, seemed like more talk shows than entertainment.
I wondered if we should simply stay in Florence, though my plan was to split the journey and go to Rome and postpone the sightseeing of Florence for later. Cursing myself for not planning better I consoled myself that I get to see all the places after all, whats a little discomfort.
Day 10: Top of Europe?
After Titlis, I was not necessarily wanting to see another peak but the rest of the party reliably informed me we can't miss JungfrauJoch. So off we went donning the borrowed jackets towards Interlaken.
By now, the coniferous trees, yellow flower streaked grassland, fat cows basking on the sunlight were quite familiar. We tried to recollect as many movies as we could that had a reference to the Swiss - though if we were to include Indian movie songs it'd be innumerable.
Luzern was beautiful and after a brief stop over when we wandered about the town, we hopped on to a train to Interlaken.
No wonder it is one of the oldest and most popular tourist point - the view of Jungfrau from Interlaken was picture perfect. It was the quintessential image of Switzerland one has. According to the map I had I could reach Kleine Scheidegg through two routes. We decided we will take the Lauterbrunnen on the upward journey and Grindelwald on the downward. We caught the Berner Oberland Bahn and spent the next hours drinking in the scenery - the houses, the flowers, the mountain ranges towering in the background - it was the pinnacle of nature's beauty.
The final leg of the journey was on the Jungraubahn train on cogwheels. I do not know if it significantly different in technology compared to the trains in south India to Ooty. It was a nice tourist checkmark and we arrived to top of Europe without much fanfare. The Bolywood Indian restaurant was indicative of the number of Indian travel companies covering the spot. There wasn't much to do, the weather turning really bad we simply walked up and down spent some time in the ice cave with its ice sculptures. We stayed out only for a less than half hour, visibility was less than twenty feet and had to come back in due to the high winds.
I was thinking about Mallory and his 'Because it is there!' comment as the cogwheel train got me down. Played in the snow for some time at Grindelwald and caught the next train to Interlaken. Some souvenir shopping - ST looked earnestly for a cow bell while I settled for a couple of picture postcards and some ice-creams later we called it a day.
Someday I told myself, as the white expanse stayed beneath my closed lids, someday I will see Mt.Everest.
By now, the coniferous trees, yellow flower streaked grassland, fat cows basking on the sunlight were quite familiar. We tried to recollect as many movies as we could that had a reference to the Swiss - though if we were to include Indian movie songs it'd be innumerable.
Luzern was beautiful and after a brief stop over when we wandered about the town, we hopped on to a train to Interlaken.
No wonder it is one of the oldest and most popular tourist point - the view of Jungfrau from Interlaken was picture perfect. It was the quintessential image of Switzerland one has. According to the map I had I could reach Kleine Scheidegg through two routes. We decided we will take the Lauterbrunnen on the upward journey and Grindelwald on the downward. We caught the Berner Oberland Bahn and spent the next hours drinking in the scenery - the houses, the flowers, the mountain ranges towering in the background - it was the pinnacle of nature's beauty.
The final leg of the journey was on the Jungraubahn train on cogwheels. I do not know if it significantly different in technology compared to the trains in south India to Ooty. It was a nice tourist checkmark and we arrived to top of Europe without much fanfare. The Bolywood Indian restaurant was indicative of the number of Indian travel companies covering the spot. There wasn't much to do, the weather turning really bad we simply walked up and down spent some time in the ice cave with its ice sculptures. We stayed out only for a less than half hour, visibility was less than twenty feet and had to come back in due to the high winds.
I was thinking about Mallory and his 'Because it is there!' comment as the cogwheel train got me down. Played in the snow for some time at Grindelwald and caught the next train to Interlaken. Some souvenir shopping - ST looked earnestly for a cow bell while I settled for a couple of picture postcards and some ice-creams later we called it a day.
Someday I told myself, as the white expanse stayed beneath my closed lids, someday I will see Mt.Everest.
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