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The Sound of Paris

September 6, 2010 by neha

Paris sounds like trouble. There’s always a piercing siren call about. I can’t tell whether it’s the cops or the ambulance till they pass me by, the little blue light swirling around in manic urgency.

My first few hours in the city were punctured with bouts of anxiety. I’d look away from my guidebook (or my pastry) and wait for the sirens to get closer: cop or not? I wondered who was hurt, who was in trouble, and if it would all work out in the end.

But it’s fascinating how quickly one adapts to place and accepts the background tapestry. Over the following days, these sirens blended into one another, fading, becoming familiar and less distinct. Now, I could sip on white wine at a snooty cafe, and not be bothered by that incessant noise. It was all very Parisian.

On our way out of Paris, we were held up by slow moving traffic in one of the city tunnels. Around us two wheelers used the gaps between lanes to speed away. One such bike came rushing at us and violently knocked (and cracked) the side mirror on my side out of its hold. The thud was pretty loud; I wouldn’t want to be the hand that caused it. On either count, there was no siren to be heard.

Posted in writing | 2 Comments »

Dubrovnik Diaries – Different Moods

July 18, 2010 by neha

In the last post of this series, I’m putting together some of my favourite photos of Dubrovnik.

From the walls, the church tops, spires and bells, are so much more accessible than when standing below the church steps, neck craned and eyes squinting. I count the tiles, the bells and the pigeons. And then I count clouds.

St. Blaise, the patron saint of Dubrovnik, takes his job very seriously. He stands above the cathedral, along the wall, at the entrance, above the water, looking out at sea. There’ll be no slacking off on his part. None at all.

She sits along the walls, on an open patch close to the Maritime museum. The thousand tourists don’t distract her from the intricate patterns she was creating. When asked if this is all her handiwork, she says yes. And her mother’s. And her aunt’s. And her sister’s. Then she goes back to work.

Shop windows are my weakness. Ok, one of them. But look how colourful they are. And shiny. And full of things you can buy. Pretty things. New things. Did I mention shiny things? I’m not allowed to spend too much time in front of them.

From a  distance this is such a sweet picture. A group of senior citizens sitting on a bench along the water, exchanging stories. In my head, these are stories of the good old days and of youthful escapades. As I get closer, I hear the swear words, and catch the aggressive gesturing. I walk by really quick. The fight continues for a while.

Here’s the truth – the real reason we travel is for the food. The first thing we do is look up the best food stops around, and then we plan the rest of the day around our meals. Can there be any other way? I think not.

The pigeons are her friends. She runs in their midst, arms raised to her sides. She feeds them pieces of bread; pieces torn by her mother standing on the sidelines.

Posted in croatia | 11 Comments »

Dubrovnik Diaries – The Water

July 16, 2010 by neha

Outside the walls there’s a whole other world. Two actually. On one side is the city, the rest of the city, where regular people lead regular lives, go to work, go to school, fuel up their tanks, and clean their floors. On the other, is the sea, the Adriatic and everything it brings with it.

This is an anomaly in Croatia. The sea usually doesn’t play second fiddle to anything. The electric blue-green water, so clean that you can see the floor down below, past the fish and other sea creatures, takes it well though.

It entertains those who’ve had their share of the city within the walls without sulking. Sometimes it’s a giggling group with a hyperactive camera, at others the solo traveller with a paperback, or an exhausted local grabbing a bite (and some peace) on a bench.

It’s never too lonely though, not with the daily ferries, charters and fishing boats. When the people turn away, it entertains cats and spiders and sea creatures like crabs before they are caught and added to the pot. When it’s left alone, as it usually is at some point, it sings and hums, sometimes softly, at others it’s a roar.

Posted in croatia, writing | 1 Comment »

Dubrovnik Diaries – During the War

July 14, 2010 by neha

The war is over, but it isn’t forgotten. Entering the old city from the Pile Gate, visitors pass the map detailing war damage. In the Franciscan monastery, exhibits share space with bullet holes and lodged shrapnel. The Sponza Palace has a war time photo exhibit, a memorial and a reminder of the brutalities of a war fought not too long ago.

A photo from the exhibit

Walking past photos of burning landmarks, the very landmarks I’ve spent the morning with, is eerie. I try to fight that dark, clamping heaviness as I walk past the soldier portraits. Some are just fresh faced boys of no more than nineteen. No one should have to be nineteen forever.

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Dubrovnik Diaries – After Dark

July 13, 2010 by neha

When night falls in Dubrovnik’s old town, the white stones bathe in gold. Under lamp posts, and in the shadows of flickering moths, they sit back and work away the stiffness of an over worked day.

The light hits all the right spots – the stained glass of the cathedral, the clock on the bell tower, letting the night cloak the many, many statues, including Orlando’s right in the middle, in a blanket of solitude. Not far away, the water hums quietly, hitting against the wall.

Posted in croatia, writing | 4 Comments »

Dubrovnik Diaries – Plate Half Full

July 11, 2010 by neha

They serve the sea on a platter, in glass bowls, on pizza, between bread. They serve it along the waterfront, in tiny lanes and along the steps. The catch, it goes without saying, is fresh, caught between the dark night and dawn; maybe this explains the lurking cats around the town.

The ‘but’ comes before and after the meal. It starts with over eager waiters accosting passing visitors, waving menus, almost forcing them in, promising the best authentic Dalmatian meal. The trite posters along the wall may tell a different story.

Even when the food is great, and the service not so bad, the bruise comes with the hefty bill. What goes by as a meal in Dubrovnik could get you three elsewhere in the country. The one good thing is that you’re never in the mood for seconds; you don’t (further) overspend; you don’t (really) get fat.

Posted in croatia, writing | 9 Comments »

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