Tag: People

Posted in Croatia, Dubrovnik, Europe

Croatia – Days 9 & 10

Posted on by travellingleila

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1-2 Septebmer 2012 – Saturday/Sunday

After spending a very lazy Saturday (we had lovely seafood dinner in the evening – oysters, mussels bouzzara and amazing fish!), on Sunday we hit the road once again – for the last time during our stay in Croatia.

 

The transfer to the Split airport was supposed to be a long one (as attentive readers would remember from the earlier parts, it takes about 4 hours), but the driver took a different paid highway closer to Split, which made our journey a little bit shorter.

 

 

As for the driver – that was a really interesting guy, who used to work in the police previously as he himself told us. All the way to the airport he just kept calling somewhere (apparently, the police) and complaining about other drivers violating the rules. We even had to stop at the Bosnian border, as because of our driver they stopped some car with Italian numbers, and he had to witness. The driver of the Italian car was to pay a €1,300 fine, by the way.

 

Posted in Croatia, Europe, Korčula

Croatia – Day 8

Posted on by travellingleila

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31 August 2012 – Friday

After the two tours we had had with the “Elite Travel” company, where we were picked up next to the “President” hotel, our impressions about this company and their work were quite good. And looks like we put an “evil eye” on them: our today’s trip to the Korčula island started with a hitch: the bus didn’t arrive. It turned out that the day before we had been forgotten to be included in the list. As a result, we were picked up by a separate minibus and delivered to the port of Gruž, where we eventually found our group and the guide. The guide (also named Ivana) initially seemed to us a bit rude (instead of apologising immediately, she attacked us – saying something like, come on, what’s your problem, you’ve been finally brought here after all!), and most importantly, uninteresting – she was literally falling asleep while making comments in English and German. She seemed more willing to speak German, by the way – generally I noticed a clear preference shown to German tourists here.

Another problem – among the group there was a family with a two-year-old toddler, for whom this long road, quite obviously, was way too long: in the good moments he was spinning like mad, while in the bad ones he was crying and throwing up. So, his presence added neither peace, nor fresh air to other passengers.

We climbed high into the mountains, again very close to the burning Bosnia. In the town of Slano we picked the last passengers. The location is called Slano (“salty”), because, starting almost from the first settlements, when salt used to be worth its weight in gold, it was mined here. Because of this salt, the Ottoman Empire’s caravan ways passed through these places.

This time the road was totally crazy. In some parts of it even looking down was scary, and at the same time it was hard to tear oneself away from the window – the view was unbelievably beautiful!

Virtually the entire foreseeable space around us was covered with vineyards. The plan was to visit one of them for wine tasting on our way back. Our guide told us that mainly red wine is produced here, and Postup is considered to be the best of all. Looking ahead, I can mention that Korčula is famous for its white wine, Pošip.

We were transported to Korčula on a small shuttle boat from Orebič (a very nice town, by the way), and got to observe how cars and even buses were transported on a large ferry.

In the town of Korčula we were to visit the Old Town, and the whole group was divided into English speakers and German speakers. The English speakers stayed with our gloomy, moody and sleepy guide, – and that was when she suddenly revived, and showed great artistry and a sense of humour.

First thing, she told us about the local “wind rose”. There is the north wind “bura”, which blows in winter and brings clear and sunny weather, although lowering the temperature to zero. There is a south wind called “jugo” or “siroc”, the locals’ least favourite: it blows from the Sahara in summer and brings dust, and, oddly enough, rain. The city walls are located so that this wind could penetrate the city as little as possible. Finally, the wind most preferred by the population is the western “mistral”, bringing cool air in summer. The city is open for this wind from the sea, and, as Ivana joked, this was the first air-conditioning system in the world.

On the city gates the name of the first Croatian King Tomislav is engraved, and above it there is the Venetian winged lion, as the city used to belong to the Venetian Republic for a long time. These lions usually have their attributes, or symbols, showing how easy or difficult it was to get into the town. If the lion has a closed book before it, it was hard, and if the book is open, it means that the Venetians were accepted almost with open arms.

We came to Korčula thinking of ​​Marco Polo, because we had heard that he was from here. However, it turned out that Venice claims to be his hometown as well, and also, his home as such does not exist – the assumed house is a ruin. As our guide indignantly mentioned, in communist times nobody really cared about history, and in the times of crisis the intention even was to sell it. Luckily, the town borrowed some money and bought the house out (currently the price of these ruins is half a million euros!), but that money wasn’t enough to restore the building and make a museum out of it, as planned. For the time being some enterprising and patriotic Korčulan opened a souvenir shop named after Marco Polo, and behind it, the Museum of Marco Polo, in a totally different place.

By the way, three things are cited as proof that Marco Polo was born here indeed: first, there is a De Polo family still living here to this day, while in Venice there are no families with such name. Secondly, there exists a register of baptisms of the 14th century, which mentions Marco de Polo. Of course, the great traveller lived in the 13th century, but because it was quite common to give children the names of their ancestors, this could well be some great-grandson of his. Well, and thirdly, the book written by Marco Polo’s cellmate brings his own words, saying that he saw the tower of his hometown Corcyra Melaina and sailed towards it. It is proved that this is how Korčula was called in the ancient times, and no other city, including Venice, has claims on this name. As there is only one tower in the town, the house of Marco Polo could be identified.

One of our stops was in the atrium. Ivana showed us, where the mayor and his secretary would seat and how they would collect the citizens’ complaints, literally portraying and mimicking each of them.

In front of the atrium was the doctor’s house. Doctors used to be lured from Venice, the bait being this very house. The doctor could live there with his family as long as he remained in the service of the city of Korčula.

We made good use of our free time – at least, I got a chance to take a quick dip in the sea, right in the city, among boats – even there it was very clean. I deliberately found a deep place, as it was impossible to get into the water in the shallow part because of the large slippery rocks.

On the way back we were taken to a huge winery belonging to the Matuško family. This family produces 500,000 litres of product annually, 90% of which is red wine, and the remaining 10% is comprised of white wine, dessert wine, schnapps and olive oil. They have huge cellars, completely cluttered with enormous barrels.

The first wine we tried was Plavac Mali. The name generally belongs to a grape variety, grown in the continental climate, in places where there is enough water, but not so much sun. 4—5 kg of grapes can be collected from one plant. The wine turns dry and light (only 12.2%), and is only drunk young.

The next wine was Dingač, made from the same grapes variety, but grown in Mediterranean climate: a little water and a lot of sun, and the sunlight comes from three sources: direct, reflected from the sea and reflected from stones. As a result, no more than one kilogramme of grapes is collected from each plant; the wine turns more robust, almost black (14.5%), and is preserved for several years.

The next drink to try was the sweet dessert wine called Prošek. It can be maintained for many years: according to tradition, when a child is born in a family, a barrel of Prošek is made, and it can only be opened at this child’s wedding. Personally, I found it it too sweet. And finally there was a 40% grappa and a 25% cherry brandy, made from this very grappa.

We then had a short stop in the town of Ston. There, too, there is the old town and a fortress, but we didn’t get to see them.

Posted in Croatia, Dubrovnik, Europe, Kotor, Montenegro

Croatia – Day 7

Posted on by travellingleila

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30 August 2012 – Thursday

Today, by contrast, was a very active day: we took the long-awaited trip to Montenegro. The mountain forest road, which took us quite long to drive through until the border, was indeed beautiful, but the day was extremely hazy. At first we thought it was fog, but then it turned out that it was the smoke from forest fires in Bosnia. We were told that the situation was really critical there, so a few sections of Croatian firefighters were sent for help.

In general, our guide Petra told us a lot of things, mostly about Croatia, though. For example, we learned that the Lokrum island (very close to Dubrovnik), famous for its parks and entertainment,  had been cursed. A very soon death is believed to await anyone who stays there overnight. The superstitious Dubrovnikers still believe in this, so every day the last, eight o’clock boat to the city is fully packed with people hurrying to leave the island.

We also learned that  Dubrovnikers do not like to rent housing, but tend to buy it instead – so they feel safer. In this case, they have to take mortgage loans for 30-40 years because of very high cost of real estate.

Driving further up in the mountains, we saw three islands from up high: Mrkan (St. Martin), Bobara (St. Barbara) and Supetar (St. Peter’s). In the 14th century, first quarantines in history were located on them, and all those traveling to Dubrovnik (then Ragusa) were required to spend 40 days there, hence the name (from the Italian word “quaranta” – “forty”). Owing to this, plague spread very little in Dubrovnik.

Driving past Konovle, we heard about the fertility of these lands. Here exists a kind of black market for vegetables here: there are women working on the fields, referred to as “our ladies”, who can be called any time and asked to deliver fresh vegetables, which they will do the same day (or, the latest, the next morning), bypassing shops and markets.

We got slightly anxious, approaching the Montenegrin border, and took out our passports and insurance documents in advance. But everything went smoothly and no one got into the bus to check anything – Petra sorted everything out by herself.

Generally, the difference between Croatia and Montenegro can be noticed immediately: Montenegro seems poorer, the houses are more dilapidated, there are lots of signs in Cyrillic script (they use both Latin and Cyrillic scripts here) and in Russian too.

The official currency is euro, even though Montenegro is not part of the EU and not going to be one in the foreseeable future. There is an explanation. This area is located at the junction of the Eurasian and African tectonic plates, which results in frequent earthquakes. After one of such earthquakes in the second half of the XX century, Montenegro had to borrow money from Germany for rehabilitation and reconstruction. When in the 80’s Yugoslavia suffered an economic crisis and, therefore, a high inflation, Montenegro, in order to pay off the debt in German marks, asked for permission to make them their local currency. After Germany switched to euro, so did Montenegro. However, the government does not have the right to print money, it still gets it from Germany.

In general, we were told that the highlanders and the seaside residents were like two different nations. The highlanders used to lead an austere life, and very often, especially during the Second World War, when a family was left without men, some women had to take on the role of head of the family. These women, called “virdžina” (i.e. “virgin”), dressed like men, carried weapons, talked about themselves in the masculine, were always in the company of men, and only performed men’s duties around the house. Nowadays this tradition has practically disappeared. As for the seaside residents, they, in particular Kotorians, used to be were very educated (education was received by both young men and women, even from common families) and looked down upon the highlanders.

When the Boka Kotorska (Kotor Bay) eventually  appeared in sight, we were really disappointed: in the haze it looked like a decal, devoid of any colors, moreover, the fog was so thick that we couldn’t see almost anything. We were taken to a place which was supposed to have a magnificent view and where we could take photos of the Kotor Bay. But there wasn’t much to take pictures of.

And so, sad and disappointed, we drove to a place called Risan, famous for its Roman mosaics. There are the remains of an ancient Roman villa, which has fragments of these mosaics on the floor.

Near the town of Perast we boarded a boat and headed to a small man-made island called Gospa od Škrpjela (Our Lady of the Rocks) with a church of the same name. The origin of the island is rather interesting. For some reason, the Catholics in this area did not have their own church. But once, as legend says, a fisherman found an icon on a rock right in the middle of the Bay. This was considered to be a sign from God, so since then fishermen would throw more and more rocks one on another, after returning from each successful journey and also sank their old ships, loaded with stones.  That is how the island was built.  The tradition to throw rocks still exists – every year, on the day when the icon was found, local people throw more rocks. The church looks very nice inside, with many beautiful canvas by a famous local painter Tripo Kokolja. The altar is made of several kinds of marble, the most rare and expensive of which was exchanged for silver on a  kilogram per kilogram basis.

As we were driving down towards Kotor, Petra told us of some humorous stereotypes which people of the former Yugoslavia have about each other. Thus, the stereotypes are that the Croats are very good singers, but also are too arrogant, the Bosniacs have great sense of humour, but are not particularly bright (sorry, don’t mean to offend anyone – these are not my words, but those of a Croat lady after all!), and the Montenegrins are very lazy. There is even a joke about a competition on who can lie on the road for the longest time. After 24 hours, the competition had to be stopped because the three participating Montenegrins were still lying there with no intention of getting up in the near future. We were shown a card with ten funny Montenegrin Commandments:

In Kotor we were passed to a Russian guide (a lady named Katya, from St. Petersburg, living here for seven years). Very quickly, she walked us around the Old City, as we only had two hours of free time, including a guided tour and lunch. The Kotor city walls are located high in the mountains, and we didn’t get to climb up there. The Old City has plenty of churches and monasteries, the first music school in the Balkans, the first theatre (now it has been sold to become a hotel, so there is no theatre in Kotor anymore). There are both Catholic and Orthodox churches here, but the Catholic ones are more in number – as there are more Catholics here, although generally the majority of Montenegrins are Orthodox. In tough times, many churches had a Catholic and an Orthodox altar at the same time, i.e. were open for both confessions.

Along with other memorable places, our attention was brought to the Pima Palace on the Flour Square. Head of the Pima family used to be one of the largest grain traders here.

Interestingly, in contrast to Dubrovnik, the buildings here are necessarily located at an angle to each other – it was believed that locating them in a row would bring bad luck.

The Kotorians are most proud of the fact that they never were under the Ottoman Empire, even though in their history they used to be subordinate to Venice, were occupied by a Napoleon’s general and by Italian fascists (for two months). On this occasion, we heard a story how Jesus Christ appeared to a girl named Katarina from a mountain village and told her that in two hundred years, the Turks would attack Kotor. The girl didn’t hesitate to come down from the mountains with her mother to warn the Kotorians about the danger. The latter immediately started building a wall to protect their land, succeeded in this and, when the the Turks did attack, they managed to parry the enemy’s strike. Katarina herself had become a nun. In appreciation, her relics were later transferred to the Church of St. Clara, right here, so that the saint would continue to defend the citizens.

By the way, her descent from the mountains was no big deal – we were informed that some inhabitants of the mountain village Njeguši do it every day when delivering products to Kotor.

Driving out of Kotor, we saw a beautiful town on the other side of the bay (the fog had already cleared a little) – either Muo or Prčanj, where we weren’t taken. There was no time left for bathing either, although there were beaches here and there.

On the way back we were told that during the previous tour a few days before, the car queue on the border was seven kilometres! The most thorough shakedowns are usually undergone by those with Albanian and Kosovar passports – this road is actually a drug “Silk Road”. Recently the guards caught a couple in a car with German plates, transporting drugs for the sum of 10 million euros. But this time we were lucky, there was only one bus ahead of us, from Ukraine, which took quite a long time to check though.

Posted in Croatia, Dubrovnik, Europe

Croatia – Day 5

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28 August 2012 – Tuesday

Today we got up almost at the crack of dawn to take the trip to Elaphiti Islands. As it was expected, people were picked up from various hotels and taken to the port of Gruž. That’s where we boarded a 16th century galleon (well, a copy of one, of course). Altogether, there were at least 150 people on the galleon, coming from virtually every country in the world. And there were four guide girls, each speaking a different language: English, French, German and Russian. The guide for the English speakers was Ivana, whom we had already met, and since we found here very knowledgeable and nice, we decided to join her group.

So, back to the Elaphiti islands – only three of them are inhabited, and we visited all three. The first one – Koločep – is absolutely tiny, with a population of 50 people. Actually, there wasn’t anything to do on the island, neither were we given much time to explore it. We walked up the street (the only one here possibly?) a little bit, and hurried back to board the ship.

Before we got off, we had been told that everyone could change places after coming back, so seats shouldn’t be reserved. At the same time, it was allowed to leave bags and other belongings – and of course, everyone left them where they had been sitting. So when we tried to move to the upper deck (previously we had had really bad seats) returning from the first island, we encountered the stormy displeasure of a Russian couple who claimed that they had left their things under the seat, therefore it was theirs. So we realised that after the next stop we better look for seats which have no bags on, next to, or under them.

We really enjoyed the sailing, but I can’t say that the coast was of an absolutely marvellous beauty. Once again, these were no Norwegian fjords.

The next island, Šipan, was marked by the abundance of churches and olive trees per capita – for a total of 600 inhabitants there are tens of thousands of olive trees.

As we were told, there are very few people constantly living on these islands – there are almost no jobs, so the islanders mostly work on the mainland, and come here for the summer and weekends. Especially that there are only primary schools here, and also no regular medical care – the doctor looking after the islands only visits each once or twice a week.

We went up to the Church of the Holy Spirit, which looked much like a fort – it used to serve as a shelter from pirates, and the big bell was rung in case of this danger. Today, the bell signals either someone’s funeral, or that there is a forest fire.

The view along the road was very beautiful, with spectacular fields, orchards and olive groves. Overall, a very stereotypical Mediterranean view, I should say.

As we came back, there was a very nice light lunch served right on board: grilled fish, coleslaw, water, and dry wine.

And the next one – the main destination for the majority – was the Lopud Island, famous for its sandy beaches, which is quite a rarity for these places. Here we were given about three hours of free time, and we decided not to waste them looking for a taxi to get to the famous Šunj beach on the other side of the island, but to settle on the closest one. So, we had plenty of time to swim, tan and get all covered in sand. We hadn’t taken any towels with us, and there was nowhere to get them, so we had to allow ourselves some time to get dried off.

By the way, captains of ships used to settle on this island – provided, of course, they were rich enough to build sturdy stone houses.

Posted in Europe, France, Paris

Paris, je t’aime – Days 8 & 9

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28 March, 2010

This was my most idle day in Paris. I was going to meet a friend for lunch, and didn’t know how to kill the time before that. I couldn’t really go anywhere as my ankle still hurt. When I saw 12:00 on my mobile, I started getting ready, but then, giving my watch a glance, realised that I somehow managed to change the clock not one hour, but two hours ahead, so it turned out I had an extra hour to kill!

When I arrived to the place we agreed on (near the metro Bastille; while getting there, I saw the Canal Saint-Martin from the train window, where Amélie Poulain was throwing pebbles, not sure where exactly – the channel is pretty long), I had to wait for my friend for an hour! It turned out that she was coming by car, and not by metro, in order to save time, and it turned out even worse – some roads were closed.

But at least, on her way she called the Latin American restaurant “Barrio Latino” we were intending to go to, and made a reservation (we found out that you had to make one to be allowed in). So there we went, and we had a very good time. The restaurant was absolutely packed, because on Sundays, those who took a brunch buffet were offered free salsa lessons. We were sitting on the second floor, watching people dance downstairs.

As for the rest of the day, I had to spend it in my hotel room – all my friends were busy this evening, and I still wasn’t able to walk by myself.

29 March, 2010

My last day in Paris – hopefully, the last one this time. In the morning I rushed to buy some makeup, and also chocolates for my colleagues in the office (my ankle was doing much better). The weather was very good, and all the beggars had gladly poured into the streets. Speaking of beggars, I didn’t mention earlier that there were a lot of them here! Some of them just sat quietly and peacefully in the streets with signs saying there were hungry, and always with pets (mostly dogs, although I once saw a cat too). I don’t quite get the point of this, probably they have those pets for company, or maybe the sight of a poor hungry animal is intended to soften the Parisians’ hearts more than that of a poor hungry person. And some others keep constantly pestering you in the street, coming up with different tricks – just like that scam with the ring that we had had the pleasure to witness and take part in.

So, after shopping, I decided to visit Versailles, especially that the weather, as I said before, was good. But, as a Ukrainian proverb says (I couldn’t find its English equivalent anywhere), if a poor man is going to get married, the night will be short. In the beginning everything was going fine. I took the metro to Saint-Michel, then changed to RER to Versailles – and there I went, admiring the beautiful scenery along the way – the suburbs of Paris are much greener and more picturesque than the city itself, especially with all the flowering trees!

Once in Versailles, I decided to have lunch first. The waiter in a local restaurant was just bursting with compliments – ah, “princesse”, etc.

After lunch, I walked to the palace, and once in its territory, paid attention to the suspiciously small number of visitors for such a famous landmark. My worst suspicions were confirmed when I went to the ticket office: “Le château est fermé le lundi” (“The castle is closed on Mondays”) – read the sign categorically. Who would have thought that it might be closed on a day like Monday! I should have checked though…

But at least, the park and gardens were open, of course. I wasn’t really up to walking around on foot, but luckily I noticed a little train running through the territory. The ride on the train was very enjoyable – the sun was shining, there were beautiful green lawns and sheep everywhere.

Having made a full circle, I went back to the station, and returned to Paris. But before going to the hotel, I went to Montmartre to see and photograph the Moulin Rouge! And in the evening I met some of my French friends.

Overall, I liked Paris a lot. It’s true that I didn’t have to deal with any local crime or the local bureaucracy. But still, it’s a wonderful city, and I hope to be back some day!

Posted in Europe, France, Paris

Paris, je t’aime – Day 6

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26 March, 2010

Today our ranks have thinned – Mom took a flight back to Baku. The day didn’t turn out particularly exciting – perhaps to some extent because of the weather: it’s quite cold today (well, not like -20C, of course, but still very little enjoyable), windy, raining occasionally (if not hailing!), even though the sun kept peeping out every now and then.

First thing in the morning, to my displeasure, we went shopping. Well, not quite shopping, but rather exploring the Galeries Lafayette , shocked with the prices. Okay , these were designer brands – Gucci, D & G, Prada, Céline, Versace, etc. But for goodness’ sake, they weren’t worth this much money! The red dress for more than two thousand euros, which I mentioned yesterday – yes, that one was really gorgeous. Here though, you can come across dresses for 13,000 euros, which, honestly, I wouldn’t even take for free (well, that’s a lie probably; I would take them for free!).

We did manage to buy quite decent stuff in nearby shops at the end, even though we got stuck for a good 40 minutes in a  in a plus size store, where my Mom spent ages choosing clothes, trying them on, and on, and on. It wasn’t actually her fault; it’s just that the sales assistants here differ radically from their London colleagues. In London they don’t bother you unless you specifically address them, and even in that case, generally don’t tend to go beyond the scope of your request. Here though, as soon as they see you looking for something particular, they’ll start offering you more and more new models until you are eventually forced to buy something.

After all this hassle I was already sick of shops, so we went to have lunch at a Japanese restaurant. Then we went back to the hotel to take a short nap, and headed to the Boulevard Montparnasse, but weren’t particularly impressed. I’m not sure whether it was because of the grey weather (that’s when it started hailing, by the way), or the Boulevard is really not extremely remarkable. I think it was more due to the weather – in sunny weather all the street cafes would be working, and the atmosphere would be much happier and nicer. But never mind, the weather had already been very nice to us before, giving the opportunity to see the most interesting places.

So pretty soon we went back to the hotel. Mom left for the airport, and I went out with my Azeri friend, her flatmate and classmates. We went to have dinner at an Azeri restaurant. Actually, the restaurant itself is called «Caucase», but the owners and chefs were Azeri. And the food was absolutely delicious!

Posted in Europe, France, Paris

Paris, je t’aime – Day 5

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25 March, 2010

This day didn’t go without stupidities as well, and I must say, I’m incredibly exhausted! We started the day with a visit to the Hôtel des Invalides, intending to see Napoleon’s tomb. The turnstiles in the metro weren’t working: «Ça marche pas!» – happily exclaimed a guy walking by. So we took a free ride and got to Les Invalides.

We bought our tickets, and first popped in the Army Museum, located in the same place. It’s really surprising to see how patriotic the French are and how much they respect and love their history. Unlike back home, where with each new form of government the old one is anathematised, everything is renamed, all monuments are demolished. Here they appreciate everything, starting from the Gauls, all the Louis’, the Emperor Napoleon, all their republics… And also it looks like they are a very warlike nation – no surprise they are represented by Gallic roosters. Everything seems steeped with wars; the whole city is full of historic sites dedicated to various victories and battles.

What I liked the most in the museum were the figures of French soldiers of different eras, especially the ancient ones: Gauls, Normans, Carolingians, Merovingians …

We didn’t want to spend too much time in the museum – after all, we are not extremely excited about arms. So off we went, right to the Dome church, where the Napoleon’s tomb was. It was cold there (just like it should be in a crypt), and right in the centre was the magnificent tomb of Napoleon. In principle, the reverent attitude of Parisians to Napoleon is quite understandable – he constructed a lot of streets, built houses, including the Hôtel des Invalides for disabled veterans.

It felt relatively warm outside, after the cold church, but it was raining. It was the first time it rained here since our arrival. As I was intending to have frog legs for lunch, we went to the Latin Quarter and found the same restaurant (Auberge de Saint-Sévérin) on the Rue Saint-Sévérin.

By the way, we took the RER, and not the metro, to get there. It was more convenient, as we would have to make two changes on the metro. But we entered the metro station first and then changed to the RER station. And we had to spend an extra ticket there, so as they say, there is no such thing as a free lunch (i.e., the non-functional turnstile in the morning).

Coming back to the frog legs, I quite liked them – they tasted somewhat like poultry, although a little bit dry and insipid. I also liked fish with sauce – after all, who, if not the French, knows how to prepare excellent sauces? Of course, they are all excellent! What I liked the most about this whole situation was the fact such a wonderful three-course meal with wine for two cost us only 40 euros including tip. And the restaurant had a beautiful cat!

We were planning to do some shopping after lunch, but once outside we realised that the rain had stopped, the clouds had parted and the weather was gorgeous. So we played it by ear and walked along the Boulevard Saint-Michel.

The boulevard was lively and cheerful, especially in such weather. We even were able to do a bit of shopping and bought a pair of shoes each. As the Sorbonne was supposed to be very close, we decided to take a look at it. However, as I tried asking various people the question «C’est où, la Sorbonne?», one man replied «I don’t speak French!», another woman looked puzzled and misunderstanding, and only the third Madame explained how to get there. So much for Paris, with the alleged impossibility to address to people in English, and their desire to respond only in French. On the other hand, it sometimes happens that you get “responded in French,” even when you ask nothing. For example, the old woman in Montmartre yesterday. Or today, when we turned off the Boulevard Saint-Michel to the no less cheerful Boulevard Saint-Germain, discussing how far away the  Saint Germain des Près metro station was from here, we were approached by an elderly man who said: «Le métro Saint Germain des Près, c ‘est là-bas! », and pointed in the opposite direction of our movement.

And by the way, we were interested in the metro for a particular reason. When I walked with my friend in these neighbourhoods the other day, we wanted to go to the Café Ladurée, serving fantastic sweets (according to my friend!). The cafe was closed then, but in a shop window next door, I spotted a gorgeous red evening gown. And now, I wanted to find that very boutique. We went round and round the narrow streets, and were just about to give up (as our feet were already pounding with pain!), when we noticed the Café Ladurée, and next to it – the shop we’d been searching for. We rang the doorbell, went in and asked how much it cost… Deux mille-something (€2000+) … Yeah, dream on, Leila!

On the way back we nearly got stuck in the metro – suddenly the train stopped in the tunnel, the lights went out, and the driver said something very fast – in fact, so fast that I didn’t understand a single word. But luckily it didn’t take longer than ten minutes.

In the evening once again I met with my friend and his friends and colleagues at the La Cordonnerie pub on Réaumur-Sébastopol.

Posted in Europe, France, Paris

Paris, je t’aime – Day 4

Posted on by travellingleila

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24 March, 2010

Another busy day began, finally, with visiting the Louvre. We walked into the courtyard and right up to the glass pyramid, which is maybe even more famous than the Louvre itself thanks to The Da Vinci Code, and got inside.

We bought our tickets and decided to see the Venus de Milo first of all. We spent quite some time looking for it, but in the meantime had the opportunity to view other Greek and Roman sculptures. I have to mention that we recognised the Venus from afar – by the great number of people around it.

That’s when we realised that it was a good idea to find the Mona Lisa immediately, while it was still pretty early, because later there would be an incredible pandemonium around it; and after that take our time and see some less popular paintings. And it paid off – there was already an impressive crowd gathering around the Mona Lisa by the time we found it, and later we wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere close to it. As one Russian guy said to another: “In a crowd like this you can’t really find the hidden meaning behind this painting!” But judging by the photos that I made, the meaning was hidden in the bald head of a man, which was reflected in the painting’s glass 😀

After enjoying La Gioconda for a while, we took our time to see some Italian, and then Spanish paintings (and the latter, we enjoyed the most). In the end we went upstairs to see the Dutch School representatives.

I would say, the optimal time spent in the Louvre should be no less than three days. And spending the whole day there, I believe, would be too tedious, and impressions would get all mixed up. As for a half-day visit, you can either gallop around the museum and not really see anything, or, as we did, choose beforehand what you most want to see, and devote your time to it. By the way, I was impressed by the large number of Russian tourists in the Louvre.

As we were done with the Louvre, we went to Monmartre. Mom was grumbling about the need to climb to the Sacrè-Cœur Basilica, but it was totally worth it, because the stairs were really beautiful, and the view on the city from there was magnificent. Plus, I have to admit that we hadn’t been able to find the funicular. Even despite the fact that, while we were standing near the metro station on Place Pigalle, feeling lost and staring at the map, an elderly lady came up to us and offered her help, and when we asked her how to get to the Sacrè-Cœur, she replied that there was “un petit bus” somewhere around (obviously, she meant the funicular), which accepted normal tickets for public transport and it was better to use it, otherwise there were too “beaucoup d’escaliers”.

Generally, Monmartre is an amazing place! Narrow cobbled streets, a huge number of cafes, street artists, a fabulous view of Paris … By the way, Montmartre is part of that very 18th district, which I didn’t like on the way from the airport. I found the Sacrè-Cœur a lot more beautiful than the Notre-Dame on the outside.

In the evening I met my Azeri friend once again and we went to the Latin Quarter to have dinner. It is also a very interesting and colourful place. Narrow streets are packed with endless restaurants – French, Italian, Greek, Chinese, Korean, in other words, anything you may wish; in front of each there is necessarily a tout, trying to persuade passers-by that their restaurant is definitely worth visiting immediately. After we already had dinner, I found that one of the restaurants on the Saint-Sévérin street served fried frog legs. So tomorrow I will come here again!

Posted in Europe, France, Paris

Paris, je t’aime – Day 2

Posted on by travellingleila

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22 March, 2010

It was a long and rich day full of impressions! It began at 9 am, when we left the hotel after the breakfast. The original plan to go to the Louvre was dropped immediately, because the weather was delightful and promised to stay delightful all day, so spending a day indoors would have been a sin!

And so we walked to the quay of the Seine, and decided to go to the Champs Elysees from there, but this plan was soon changed as well, and we headed to the Eiffel Tower.

The road to the tower was not much impressive, but something strange happened there. Some dodgy-looking guy rushed towards us with a gold ring, asking if it was ours. After he learned that it wasn’t, he began actively trying to foist it on us, pointing at its countersign and insisting it was genuine. And then he began to beg for money to buy a sandwich and a Coke. When we asked a completely fair question on why he wouldn’t take the ring instead and sell it, he said that he was a Baptist. Somehow he managed to wheedle 4 euros out of us (yes, I always knew that the word “DUPE!” was written in large letters on my forehead). As for the ring, we decided to throw it out of harm’s way, as the whole story seemed too suspicious. Thinking back now, I realise that there wasn’t need to worry too much – the ring, according to its weight, was not gold at all, and most probably this is a common scam.

Then we walked to the Eiffel Tower without any incidents. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the chance to go up, as the queue was unbelievable and we didn’t want to waste time standing in it. Especially that there were a lot of gypsy beggars scurrying around, soldiers with weapons, and more dodgy guys selling Eiffel Tower figurines and trying to palm them off on us. However, at some point they suddenly started off to run somewhere simultaneously! Most likely, they were running from the police, but my mom’s comment really made me laugh: “Where are they running? Did anyone tell them that more dupes had arrived?”

The Eiffel Tower itself made me want to take an infinite number of pictures of it. And the sight of this beauty was simply breathtaking. However, if you look closer, the tower doesn’t have any special beauty. By essence, it is a pretty ugly construction. So, I think that its beauty is a purely psychological phenomenon – it is the main symbol of Paris, one of the world’s major attractions, so our eyes are used to considering it beautiful.

After viewing the tower on all four sides and at least a dozen of photos made, we decided to take a bus tour around the city, taking advantage of the good weather (quite unusually, it didn’t start raining with wind, as it always happens when I get in an open-topped tour bus!). And this, I must say, was a very good idea. Such tours should always be taken at the very beginning of one’s stay in a city – it allows to understand its structure and logic, and at the same time to determine the places that you want to visit later. Especially that there are always places that you generally do find interesting, but seeing them from the bus is just enough, and in the future you don’t have to spend time on visiting them. For example, the Place de la Concorde, which we drove through so many times that we definitely didn’t want to visit it separately.

We got off near the Notre Dame Cathedral, looking for a place to eat, but for some reason couldn’t find anything other than sandwiches and croque-monsieurs. So we had to get on the bus once again and head to the Galeries Lafayette.

This area is somewhat like the City of London, where the majority of people are wearing suits and there are lots of banks around – Commerzbank, BNP Paribas, etc. We managed to find a restaurant here.

Looking through the menu, I came across a dish called «Rôti de chapon aux cèpes avec Gratin Dauphinois», and became interested, because I had previously heard of Gratin Dauphinois being a very tasty potato dish. I had no clue what “chapon” was, though, so I asked the waiter. He replied that it was “le coq”, and mimed the process of castration. By the way, the poor cockerel tasted quite good, and the Gratin Dauphinois was absolutely fabulous!

After lunch, replete and happy, we continued our tour bus, to go back to Notre Dame de Paris and get inside. As there was still plenty of time before the 6 pm mass, which we very much wanted to attend, we decided to get off near the Eiffel Tower once again and have a cup of coffee in one of the outdoor cafes.

Then we caught another bus and headed directly to Notre Dame de Paris. On the way, I made a few observations. First, it is the love of the French for their flag. It seems to be everywhere: not only over every state institution, but also over all billboards.

Secondly, it is the huge number of motorcycles on the roads, I’ve never seen that many before! And most importantly, they tend to rush at a crazy speed!

And third, I noticed that the names of shops, cafes and hotels are directly dependent on the location. For example, they are all called “Madeleine” in the neighbourhood of the Madeleine Church, or “Notre Dame” in the area of Notre Dame de Paris.

Speaking about the Notre Dame Cathedral, initially, we were prepared to stand in a long queue for an 8-euro ticket. As we approached the tail of the queue, we noticed a sign, saying that there was no point in joining the queue, as that was it for the day. We got very upset, but then decided to ask how to get to the mass, and found out that the entrance was through the church, and it was free! Frankly, I didn’t understand what these guys in the queue were planning to pay 8 euros for, because inside, we were able to view everything free of charge. Actually, “free” is a bit of an overstatement, as we had to spend money on candles, and metal medals “for luck”, and the entrance to the treasury of the church, and the donation after the mass.

The treasury was well worth the three euros paid for it – it had amazingly beautiful goblets, finger rings, busts of various archbishops, as well as objects of unknown purpose, probably just for decoration.

We highly enjoyed the mass itself too. The service started with vespers at 17.45, followed by the mass at 18.15. Everyone was given sheets of paper with the lyrics of hymns and psalms in Latin and French. Since, wishing to see everything well, we sat in one of the front rows, we had to sing along with everyone. But it all sounded truly divine! The next part mostly consisted of preaching and talking about the biblical Susanna and the two elders, occasionally interrupted by chants such as «Kyrie Eleison».

Generally, looking at all this, I come to the conclusion that if I was a believer, I’d certainly be a Catholic. Because only Catholic churches, services and rituals make me feel awe, albeit minimal. On the other hand, it seems unlikely that I would be able to listen to stories of Susanna, the elders, and others like them with sincere reverence.

Leaving 2 euros as a donation, we left the cathedral just in time to catch the last tour bus, which dropped us off at the Grand Opera, from which we had to walk to our hotel. Once near the Boulevard des Capucines, we decided to have dinner somewhere. Seeing «Le Grand Café des Capucines», I got quite excited about oysters in the menu exposed in front of the cafe, but my mom flatly refused to try them. For the sake of revenge, I suggested Pizza Hut, where the pizza was very, very mediocre.

Posted in Europe, France, Paris

Paris, je t’aime – Day 1

Posted on by travellingleila

РУССКОЯЗЫЧНАЯ ВЕРСИЯ ПО ЭТОЙ ССЫЛКЕ. CLICK HERE FOR RUSSIAN VERSION.

Since I’m not travelling anywhere right now, I decided to dig out some of my old writings. Unfortunately, the photos aren’t as good as the ones in my posts about China – I didn’t have a very good camera back then, and my photography skills were much worse than now too. Voilà:

21 March, 2010

Here is the city of dreams – Paris, ladies and gentlemen! It starts with the Charles de Gaulles airport, with its moderately “jemenfoutiste” (something like “I-don’t-give-a-damn-ist”) staff, who don’t bother doing any unnecessary inspections.

The road from the airport is quite far from dreams, and so is the 18th district, through which we have to drive: dusty worn signs, dirty buildings…

It doesn’t take too long to get to the centre, or, more precisely, the Grand Hôtel du Palais Royal, where we will be staying. The staff here speaks English pretty willingly, thus saving me from unnecessary embarrassment – I am still somewhat scared to speak French.

But right after that, in a restaurant, I have no other choice than to do so. And I realise that I am understood – which is really good! Waiters in Paris restaurants (so far, on the particular example of the Les Fontaines de Saint Honoré restaurant) are totally unlike their, say, London colleagues – they are more fun, more bustling and more relaxed at the same time. So, cheerfully, bustlingly and relaxedly, they served us the famous French onion soup. The whole idea of an onion soup arouses scepticism among some people, but in fact it is something incredible… A thick rich broth + pieces of bread floating in it + melted cheese = something delicious and amazing. Yum!

We were taken for Spanish, and when we explained that we actually came from the former Soviet Union, for some reason all the waiters came into enthusiasm and even said: “Spasibo!”

After lunch we went out to scout the territory. It turned out that the Louvre was literally a few steps away from our hotel.

I was feeling quite stunned by the fact that everyone around was speaking French! I find it hard to break the mental barrier and start speaking it too yet. On the other hand, when I do, I see that it’s considered absolutely normal. That is, the French perceive foreigners speaking French to them as a totally natural thing.

So we walked from the Louvre to the Paris Opera (which we didn’t recognise at once – it looked like the Paris Opera, but the deceptive inscription read “Académie Nationale de Musique”), and then turned to the Boulevard des Capucines. This is a very busy street, with endless bistros, cafes and restaurants, with a smooth and imperceptible transition into the Boulevard des Italiens.

On our way back we dropped in a drugstore to buy some water and toothpaste. I couldn’t find toothpaste immediately, but just as I wanted to “show off” my language skills and ask “Est-ce que vous avez du dentifrice?”, I immediately noticed it.

In the evening, after a good nap, I met with an Azeri friend and we made the same route once again, ending up in the Bistro Romain on the Boulevard des Capucines. My friend strongly advised me to try carpaccio – thinly cut slices of raw beef or salmon, with some sauce. Surprisingly, I liked it.

And of course, I should mention the wine served everywhere – it is magnificent! It has none of the bitterness we are accustomed to, it is full of fruity aroma, in fact it has a “bouquet”, as wine experts call it.