Evenings in Paris - Day 3

The train pulled into a small station in the suburbs of Paris – Versailles, the erstwhile seat of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. The streets were adorned with festive flag garlands. The wind was freezing cold! A tree-lined avenue let to the vast courtyard teeming with cars! So much for the early start of the day…

The outer gates of the palace lead into a smaller courtyard, where a long queue snaked into what looked like a temporary structure (Versailles seems to be the Tirupati of the West). A Kuoni group from India rushed in behind me. Their guide had already purchased tickets. When he asked for money, they started bargaining. One of the aunties was scanning the queue ahead for “desi”s. She wanted to befriend them so that they could move ahead in the queue at their expense.

An hour later we were inside the tent-like structure for the security check. I realized then that it was not a ticket counter. I had to purchase tickets and then stand in the queue. Probably seeing my sullen face, the lady at the security counter gave me a priority card and asked me to return to her after buying tickets. Twenty minutes later (thanks to another queue), I was back at the security check gate. Two Bulgarian ladies unsuccessfully tried to jump in with me. Next time don’t blame the Indians!

Inside the massive golden gates lies a smaller marble courtyard. It advertises free WiFi. Somehow it eluded my phone.

It took three hours to see the palace alone. Behind the palace are the immaculate beautiful gardens of Versaille (“Don’t go to the gardens! It is a waste of time. You can see it from the palace” – the guide had told the Indian group). The palace has too many highlights. But what made my day was the girl posing in front of Marie Antoinette’s bed. She wanted a photo in a sleeping pose!

Musical fountains were advertised everywhere and indeed the music was playing. But none of the fountains were switched on!

Extreme pain of the sprained leg forced me back to the apartment for a short rest. There I remembered Ravi’s words: “If you want to see what the French do fir leisure, visit the nearby canal side”. True to his words, the place was brimming with people – picnickers, people playing marbles, jugglers, acrobats…and even a marching band! The canal cuts through the city until it joins the Seine near Bastille. I walked alongside, between the revelers.

As the sun started its descend, there was a last item in my agenda –the Pont Alexandre III, one of the most beautiful bridges on the Seine. The white bridge spans the river from the Quay d’Orsay to the Royal Palace. The restaurants along the riverside were doing big business. People had also set up their picnic baskets alongside the Seine. Feeling hungry, I did something I had avoided until then. At the foot of the Eiffel Tower, I entered one of those numerous roadside cafes.

Dinner was mighty expensive!

Are people really gullible or are they plain stupid? All along the road from the Eiffel to Pont Bir Hakeim, gamblers had set up their wares. People were playing for 50 euros and 100 euros and losing money.

The only souvenirs for me from Paris were the metro tickets and a bottle of water.

Evenings in Paris - Day 2

Ravi had left the apartment all to me for the three days. I slept in later than usual. But come morning, I couldn’t put my legs down. They were weighing a ton.

From the living room, you could spot all kinds of trains entering and leaving the Gare d’Iest – a trainspotter’s delight. In the distance, you can spy the tip of the Eiffel tower. But dominating the skyline was the majestic dome of Sacre Coeur.

Situated on a hilltop in Montmartre, you can access the cathedral either by foot or by a funicular. Taking the funicular (the Paris metro tickets work) is a better option if you do not want to be harassed by the young men stationed on the steps, trying to tie a piece of thread to your fingertip. They don’t take “no” for an answer and try to forcefully pull you by hand. “It’s for the church…for God!” they argue. If you allow them, you pay the price for the thread – 10 euros, 20 euros or even 100 euros as the young couple behind me found out.

Behind the cathedral, snake the by-lanes of Montmartre – one of the most beautiful localities in Paris, a quaint little village in the middle of the bustling metropolis. It’s heaven for budding artists. At this early hour, men and women were setting up easels, ready to showcase their crafts. The paintings ranged from the sights of Paris to still life. Tourists were getting their silhouettes or portraits painted.

Common sense is not the best companion of travelers. And so, I climbed up 300 steps to the dome of Sacre Coeur. A spiral staircase winds upward through a claustrophobic column. At some places, you need to cross over from one dome to the other. The way down is not the same, so there’s little chance of bumping into someone coming down through those narrow steps. A slow climber though, can cause a delay for people going up. Thankfully, at that early hour, I was the only one climbing. The dome of Sacre Coeur offers one of the most magnificent views of the city, and as Ravi had pointed out yesterday, Paris was a small city.

A long queue stretched into the entry gate of Saint Chapelle, since it was also entrance to the Palais de Justice. Bags were being meticulously scanned and checked. “Museum Pass” holders seemed annoyed that they were not treated with privilege. The highlights of the chapel are the sixteen huge stained glass windows. Around the corner stands the more famous and bigger Notre Dame cathedral. Another long queue stretched into its doors. Whereas the entrance to Saint Chappelle was a tree-lined avenue that offered shade, here we were at the mercy of the scorching sun. Thankfully the queue moved very fast. Inside the massive cathedral was a ticket counter – the access to a gazillion steps that take you to the bell towers. Common sense prevailed.

For those who have read Victor Hugo, Notre Dame evokes familiarity. There are many shops around the cathedral that carry the name Quasimodo. But being well-read is not always good. Under the watchful eyes of the gargoyles, stood a tourist posing for a photograph hunched up like Quasimodo!

Another Parisian specialty for lunch – Crepes with sugar syrup and lemon!

Across the seine from Notre Dame stands the Hotel de Ville. No, you can’t stay there - It’s the town hall. The huge courtyard of the majestic structure was filled with picnickers. A stone’s throw away stood the gates of the Louvre – something I had deliberately avoided since I had spent a whole day inside during my previous visit. Still I had to have some “been-there-done-that” snaps. I got my first (and only) photo clicked in front of the pyramid. The place was immensely crowded. Many people were around the pyramids, trying to touch them. Others were fast asleep by the fountains. Everyone else would be crowded around the Monalisa. But most importantly, the place had free WiFi.

Straight past the Arc de Triomphe, the avenue leads to La Defense. A vestige of modern-day Paris, the place is full of glass-laden skyscrapers. The huge tesseract of the Grande Arch stands tall facing the Arc de Triomphe, challenging the old structure. There were people perched on its steps. The Arch stood like a gateway into the city. There were hundreds of people running about, to catch a bus or train home. And approaching the city from outside were the ominous dark clouds of a storm.

Evenings in Paris - Day 1

Night fell sometime after 10 PM, . The lights on the Eiffel Tower had been switched on. Standing on the Pont de Bir Hakeim (or the “Inception” bridge), I had made a feeble attempt at balancing my big camera on a small tripod. After mixed results, I decided head to the Palais de Chaillot. My hunch paid off. It was a completely different scene there. The lights from the tower across the Seine cast a brilliant glow on the fountains of the dimly-lit Trocadero Gardens. An ocean of people throbbed. Someone turned on the music, and the Esplanade turned into a dance floor. Couples broke away from the crowd and started waltzing. Young men were begging single ladies for a dance with them.

Paris is a romantic city.

It had been an incredibly hot day. The Eiffel tower loomed up at the bright blue sky. Around it, innumerable young black men were trying their best to attract customers with miniature Eiffel models (some of them brightly lit), and selfie sticks. An exasperatingly long queue snaked at the base of the tower. Deducing that this was for the elevator to the top, I decided to take the shorter queue up the stairs. Not many climbers – certainly not the Indian honeymoon couple up front. 

After buying tickets, they asked: “which way?”

The guy at the counter pointed ahead.

The husband: “That’s the stairs. Where’s the elevator?”

“That way”, said the counter guy pointing at the snaking queue.

“We already have the ticket. We can’t just go in?”

“No. You stand in the queue”.

The wife wasn't amused. They kept mumbling.

The average Chinese tourist has the best camera that money can buy – mostly the high end Canons. As a single traveller, you might think “Ah! Here is a guy who understands DSLRs. He can click my photo”. Far from the truth, the purpose of that camera is to point and click. They wouldn't even know how to focus the camera. And just when you have composed your shot, ready to click the photo, you find one of them waltzing into the frame, animatedly asking you to move. Turn back, and you will see their fellow traveller with a huge camera gesturing at you in exasperation for blocking their shot! Today, they were in abundance on the second level of the Eiffel.

I stood there for a long time, taking in the view from the top (and to catch my breath after the climb). A delightfully high-pitched squeal rang out. I turned back. There he was, kneeling before his girlfriend with a little box in hand.

Paris is a romantic city.

Heading down the stairs, I spotted the honeymoon couple coming up the stairs. They weren't looking happy.

The way down was better, except for the embarrassment of the American lady who asked me whether I was from Nat Geo.

A few blocks away, the golden dome of Les Invalides could be spotted. I walked towards it. A huge crowd had gathered to witness some traffic safety drill. Before I could go in my leg muscles gave away, tightening up like rocks. I sat down in front of the huge dome, unable to walk further – invalidated before the Les Invalides.

It was incredibly hot. There were ice cream and water vendors everywhere. But the tourists were more inclined to dip their scorched hands and feet into the huge ornate fountains (into which Andrea throws her phone in the movie) at the Place de la Concorde. Ahead in the distance looms the Arc De Triomphe, at the end of the Champs Elysees. French and Spanish flags adorned either side of the avenue. Innumerable expensive cafes dot its streets, not to mention the fashion houses. An Adonis guards the gates of Abercrombie & Fitch – every girl wants a photo with him.  A few blocks ahead stands the huge store of Louis Vuitton – only for window shopping.

A massive French flag hangs from the Arc de Triomphe. The walls are dotted with the names of the various campaigns of the French. A small memorial burns at the centre. It seemed like a rich man’s India Gate. A tiny door on the side leads to the steps. “No elevator” exclaimed a guy who had just come out. I've had enough of stairs for the day.

Finally at 5 PM, my shoulders were relieved of my baggage at my host, Ravi’s apartment (delightful guy and a well-kept apartment). With the camera hanging around my neck, I headed to the Palais Chaillot and the Trocadero gardens.  I loitered around the fountains, pitying the elderly guy who stepped into a waterhole on the floor, thankful that it didn't happen to me. A few minutes later, I slipped and twisted my leg – momentarily invalidated.

I set up camp on the Pont Bir Hakeim to click the lights of the tower. A Chinese couple had already moved in for the shots. But we weren't the only ones there. A couple was preparing for their wedding photo shoot.

Paris is a romantic city

No country for gods

Disclaimer: Nope, this is not a religious article. So before you start blaming the current government, read it!

Disclaimer: If there are spoilers, I don’t care.

1998 August: I was fresh out of college, thrust into the cruel corporate world in Chennai – a place known amongst many other things for the huge (and mostly ugly) cut-out posters of Tamil movies dotting the pavements of Mount Road. This time around, there was a surprise addition – an English movie! The huge poster proclaimed that his eyeball was larger than the dome of the Taj Mahal. “Size deos matter”, it screamed! The world was waiting for Godzilla. Godzilla strutted and screamed, grabbing the lion’s share in the destruction of New York, from Armageddon and Deep Impact. These were the days before subtitles made their appearance in English movies. Since we wouldn't be able to comprehend the conversations on the screen, all we were interested in were the visual effects and they were not disappointing (probably the only stuff that Roland Emmerich knows to do).

Fifteen years later (more-or-less) comes another Godzilla – literally “another”, for he has undergone a complete identity change from 1998. The French are no longer responsible for his creation. Apparently he is a prehistoric alpha predator who was sleeping somewhere in the depths of the planet, awakened through deep sea exploration. All the so-called nuclear tests conducted by America were actually to kill this guy. And yes, he is apparently a “HE” and not the he/she thing that can reproduce on his/her own to produce more he/she-lings than could fit into Madison Square Garden.

We have a Fukushima(-like) accident, when a nuclear power plant in the Japanese town of Janjira is destroyed by acquaintances of Godzilla – a massive cockroach-like winged creature that hatched out a mine (christened MUTO - Massive Unidentified something-something by the Americans). He feeds on nuclear radiation and communicates with his girlfriend in the US through electromagnetic pulses.  Unfortunately for them, Godzilla eavesdrops on them and is determined to nip their romance. As the intelligent Japanese doctor says, “Gojira” is nature’s way of restoring balance.

So, we have a male MUTO flying fast towards the American mainland, with a brief stop-over at Honolulu to destroy everything – expect the dog, who takes one look at the impending danger, barks and runs away. The female trudges along towards the coast, laying waste to Las Vegas in the process. The viewer is left to wonder whether the visual effects team was watching “Starship Troopers” while designing these creatures. Then there’s also Godzilla, speeding towards the shore with an armada of battleships in escort.

The MUTOs feed on radiation – so much that he swoops down from the sky to grab nuclear missiles, like a pelican diving into the water to grab a fish. The military decides to lure them off-shore with a nuclear missile (are we ever surprised?) and finish them off while the intelligent Japanese doctor keeps insisting that Godzilla will finish the job for them.

Refreshingly, the monsters spare New York from destruction. It is the turn of San Francisco to bear the brunt. Since there is no Statue of Liberty in San Francisco, we see Godzilla take out a portion of the Golden Gate Bridge for no apparent reason, before heading inland to kill the mating MUTOs.

Godzilla boasts of a stellar star cast including Bryan Cranston, Ken Watanabe, David Strathairn and Juliet Binoche, who have nothing much to do. Aaron Taylor Johnson is no different. For most part of the movie, he just needs to keep staring ahead though Johnson and Elizabeth Olsen make a fine pair, as if they were twins - oh wait! That’s for next year. But then the two cockroaches and a dinosaur are enough to make up for everything.

In a finale where one can mostly see smoke, dust and darkness, we finally realize that Godzilla has vanquished the MUTOs. He heroically swims off into the sunrise, as people hail him as “Saviour of the City”.

In the end it took the monster to save the city. Where were the Gods? As they say in our local lingo, “Gods illa?”

No…I wouldn’t watch a re-run of this.

The long wait continues

It's too short to be a blog post. But something has to give! Three years is a long time of inactivity. Is it laziness or a loss of creativity? Has social media destroyed the writer in me? In these three years I've made many a journey, but have never bothered to pen down my thoughts! Maybe it's time to alter things a bit. It's all about time...

The Silk Road - 8

It’s probably been the longest week for me here in Shanghai - probably because of the wait to see where I will be headed the next week. After see-sawing between Beijing and Chengdu, it’s finally been decided that I would head to Chengdu for the coming weeks. It could well be my last week at Shanghai.


Subash has started cooking. While he does the cooking, me and Yash sit and watch Horror movies. Subash keeps yelling from the kitchen to switch it off. Thanks to us, Subash is now too scared to sleep. Megan Fox (ala “Jennifer’s Body”) has invaded his dreams, keeping him awake through the night. He is the first person I know who is scared of Megan Fox.

Yash left on Saturday. He couldn’t fulfill his desire of visiting Xian. Neither could Subash go for a massage with Yash.

Discovery of the week: No pee-pee boys, but it's again courtesy Yash – “In the USA, ‘tall’ means ‘short’. If you have any doubts, check in any Starbucks outlet”.

The Silk Road - 7

Sometimes a whole day is not enough. We had time for a few hours of sightseeing before we headed for shopping. The Summer Palace was far away and hence had to be ditched. We decided on the nearer one – the Temple of Heaven.

The guy at the hotel front desk had given the directions to the farthest metro station in the vicinity. By the time we got to the metro station, it seemed far away. Beijing Metro is the oldest in the country, and for a single trip to anywhere, it costs just 2 Yuan. But the trains are so damn crowded!

The temple was beautiful, but strangely, looks like the ones you find in Kerala – the round body tapering roof types. Of course, here, you cannot go inside it. Whatever is there to be seen has to be viewed from the small door. Surrounding the Temple of Heaven is a huge park with other temples and pavilions – and a gazillion people selling all sorts of trinkets – and Subash wanted to buy them all.

Opposite to the temple complex stands the Hongqiao Pearl Market – where you get duplicates of everything under the sun. The rest of the guys went gaga over the watches. Yash successfully brought almost a dozen watches, driving the salesgirls to exasperation with his bargaining. But he drew a blank with the bags.