Geneva

Geneva, I discovered is not just characterized by its fountain spurting high above humanity in a magnificent lake or by the riche who live around it. Nor is it all about cows, and chocolate and fondue.
It is in fact one of the most diverse cities I have visited. The surprises began during the train journey where a breath-takingly beautiful landscape awaited-green hills, towering on either side of the train, made it appear like we were going through a secret passage through them. The pristine rivers flashed by the countryside, dotted by numerous cottages so typically Swiss, as the well-organized farms stood out from their Indian (as well as French and English) counterparts. So it was somewhat of a disappointment when the train pulled in at the station for it was in the midst of a concrete jungle and with the French signboards crying café, bar, tabac, it was like I had never left. It soon got better once I got the first glimpse of the jet d’eau and the lake it embellishes. Surrounded by the awe-inspiring Jura mountains with their ringlets of clouds, the lake was regal, magnificent and pure. The water was so clear one could see the bottom and its myriad shades of green and blue can leave a mark on even a disinterested looker. The lake is also the source of the Rhône- the well-loved river which flows through Lyon and one can see where it gets its beauty from. Walking around the lake and peering in the water every two minutes to make sure it was still as clear, we soon forgot the heat and the fatigue.
Next I was encouraged to go to the watch museum-the Patek Phillipe museum and I graciously accepted( out of politeness, tinged with apprehension) . To my surprise I realized that watches in the museum were in fact pieces of jewelry in the 16th century and it was actually a jewel collection-any girl’s paradise. Snuff boxes, fans, mirrors, rings, necklaces embellished with more gems than one can imagine awaited me. In fact they were so beautifully inlaid that one had to search very hard for the original purpose it served-keeping time for the watches were dwarfed by the humungous gems. There were ingenious mecanims for decorating the clocks, with moving parts and melodies and I realized that watch making was indeed advanced mechanics. After having gaped, admired and thought about stealing every piece of jewellery possible, I had to be torn away(literally) to be taken outside.
 My friend and guide took me then to a neighbourhood which was in fact a little Italian village. Huge houses with shutters and red-tiled roofs on either side, a calm so decidedly non urbane, it was like we had left the hustle and bustle of Geneva behind and come to a quaint Italian quartier. We strolled along the streets, soaking up the atmosphere and chatting incessantly. Next on the list was the old genevan town where cobbled streets, heritage trams and tolling church bells awaited. It was like coming to another part of town-gothic cathedrals, fountains which spouted water and streets which led nowhere, we were soon lost in the beauty of history.

It was time for a change once again as we picnicked around the lake, watching a movie in open air and seeing the sun settle down for its nightly nap. Geneva by night was even more impressive than during the day-the wind made the jet d’eau leave a spray trail and the city- lights around the lake formed a necklace of pearls around it. One could hear the gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) waves lapping at the rocks and the ever changing reflection of the lights in the water added to the beauty. And just when one thought it could not get more beautiful, the moon came out from behind the mountains adding an unearthly glow. We must have lost track of time as we gazed at the scenery and it was soon bed time.

We got up next morning, refreshed and eager to explore some more. I was in the countryside now, for my friend lived in Vernier village, little outside Geneva, and in exploring the forest around, we found the river Rhône again. It was a little trail in the woods by the river and we took a leisurely stroll around the mountains and discovered quite a few waterfalls which came cascading down to the river. It was like hiking in Shimla or Ranikhet, or in the forests on the hills, where the only sounds were made by non-human creatures and the river. Who knew the Swiss countryside was so magically calm? It worked up quite an appetite though and I was treated to some brilliant food cooked by my friend as soon as we found our way back home.
After our tummies growled no more, we headed back to Geneva to get one last look at the lake. We again sat in the parks beside the lake and watched the sky go from light to dark, the wind change from mild to stormy and had to eventually run for cover as the rain came pouring down. Geneva seemed relieved from the heat it had been experiencing as were we. Nothing like old friends and their banter as we laughed and chatted until the time came for me to leave, thus ending my Geneva adventure.
Until the next trip then…

Snippets from a traveler’s life

Snippets from a traveler’s life

How best to overcome the fatigue and the tiredness of continuous exams, presentations and report submissions, the sleepless nights and the aftermath?Simple; just take a refreshing sip of lush, green and enchanting England.

As I set out from a sweltering hot day in Paris towards Norwich, I saw the parched French landscape grudgingly give way to the fertile English soil, nurtured by the blood and toil of generations of men. The landscape dotted with teeny tiny houses among vast fields gave way to the hustle bustle of London and then  transformed again to the rolling country side of Norwich. Green, gold and brown seemed to merge in one hue as we continued, ambling through villages and those typical beautifully quaint English cottages one always dreams of having.  Norwich came at last, the light at the end of a very long, albeit beautifully embellished, tunnel. Meeting family is always such a joy and this time was no different. After a sumptuous Mediterranean dinner, we strolled along the trail of gorillas, innovatively painted (some even resemble batman and ironman) admiring the beauty of Norwich as it slumbered.(The painted gorillas represented their not so fortunate real-lifecounter parts becoming endangered by the minute.)

The next day we set off for the town of Bath, where Jane Austen wrote some of her best works and most of England went to, well, take a bath. For it was here that the Romans discovered the healing properties of the hot water springs and decided to make a pomp and show about it by building a public bath. Now when one mentions public baths, one automatically thinks of the unhygienic conditions, where the entire world comes to wash their dirt and sins away. However the Romans were well aware of this fact and set up an elaborate system of purification in place, well before entering the main bath itself so that only once a person was deemed clean enough for the bath could he enter it. A spa, a sauna, numerous dressing rooms and massage rooms were all part of the main structure, and at the helm of it all-the Scared Pool. This was where the hot sulphur springs finally found an outlet for their boiling rage and gushed to the top. And they remain angry and warm to this day-steaming hot and tantalizingly therapeutic (yes we did touch and drink it and yes we do live to tell the tale).  With an elaborate drainage system and brilliant engineering, the Roman baths are a marvel of their age and to this day, even after significant additions by the English kings, survive the blemishes of time.

Bath in itself is a small town with various other attractions, notably the Jane Austen house and the Fashion museum where one can not only see but also get to try on the Victorian dresses for oneself. And after doing so and trying to sashay down the room, we had a new found respect for the women of that epoch who readily underwent this torture for the sake of what fashion deemed as beauty.  Next on the list was the imposing Pulteney bridge sitting atop the gushing waters of the Avon and built on the lines of the locksmith’s bridge in Florence(but that makes for another blog post). Nibbling on the some fresh Italian ice cream seemed like a dream come true on that hot sweltering day(and yes the sun does reveal itself to the people of England) and all this while strolling the by lanes of one of the most scenic cities in the world-Bath.

The following morning, we had another of our childhood fantasies come to life-that of paying a visit to the mysterious stone circle known as the Stonehenge. The way was marked by chalk figures as old as the hills themselves, and the alleged fields marked by crop circles( made by men or otherwise) and the quaint thatched roof cottages of one of the villages. But nothing could have prepared us for the stones themselves, massive, towering, over powering, awe-inspiring and we paused for a minute, overcome with a fatal desire to touch them yet glad of the distance between us and the Stonehenge.  We did not just marvel at the strength of the men who brought them from Wales without modern machines, but also at the architects who conspired with the stars and seasons to overwhelm the common man into believing that it was less of architectural ingenuity and more of a sacred temple for worshipping the forces of nature.

From the ancient we moved to the medieval by shifting base to London and paying a visit to the Westminster Abbey where centuries of men prayed, hoped and dreamed- from royalty to poets like Chaucer, all found their final resting place underneath. From grandiose royal weddings to even more opulent coronations, this abbey really has borne witness to man’s journey through time. For a less romantic version of life, we visited Tower of London, marked by blood and gore in the violent English history. It was in this tower cum hill fort that Sir Isaac Newton lived as the head of the Royal Mint and that Sir Walter Raleigh was imprisoned.  All of Henry VIII’s wives were also killed here and apparently a man, one of the many bloodthirsty England hung, was hung, drawn and quartered here( from where the expression originates). This is also the resting place of the famous Koh-i-Noor in the queen's crown and the less I say the better. Moving on, next on our list were these interesting fountains which seem to spout out of the ground suddenly and which were quite the rage with people actually bathing in them to take respite from the heat. From then on, we just roamed around near the river banks until we were tired  and/or hungry. It is rather magical to be roaming around, discovering parts of London very different from what one has read about(read Picadilly circus, Buckingham Palace which of course we did see but we enjoyed the parks around rather than the Palace itself). It’s the realization that you don’t want to be a tourist anymore and would rather explore the city for what it is than for what it has to offer.

And thus another beautiful trip to the city of my dreams came to an end. Until next time then!