4th time and counting

D and I just got back from a visit to Paris, this time accompanying D's parents who are visiting. Paris doesn't leave your system.You fall hard for it every time you visit, till a point arrives where it becomes unattainable. You cannot break through that invisible wall of je ne sais qoui. You are not a Parisien. You are only a tourist. And you cannot come to terms with the city until you live in it. You can only remain in awe.

On Day 1, we took the train to Giverny in Vernon, where the Monet Foundation is situated. Except for the fact that it was chilly and raining, the day was great and we got to see the region of Normandy pass us by.

Since we'd already been to the tick-mark places in our past 3 visits and the mood this time was really not to spend a lot of money, we walked. The day after we visited Giverny was a bright, sunny day. Perfect for my in-laws to go up the tower. We waited in line in their place till the ticket windows opened and saw them in. We had about 3 hours to kill. And we ended up walking about 5 kms from the tower to Alexandre and Rene Parodi Square. Took the bus back, which took us along the periphery. This was a more open area of Paris, less congested, equally beautiful.

The next day, after helping parents take the train to Louvre and going to deposit our bags at the cloak room at Gare de Lyon, we took the metro back to Cite, where we had French onion soup by the Notre Dame and I bought a book from Shakespeare and Co. And we walked aimlessly in the Latin Quarter district, along some academic institutes to Jussieu. It was a beautiful, gloomy day. Not a lot of crowd because it was Saturday.

This visit afforded us the time to really walk around and take in the sights and sounds of the city. Ever so grateful...

Under the iron lattice, you could hear a dozen languages and a million dreams coming true.

May Day Tradition

I don't remember seeing little flowers last year, but this year on May Day, people were seen selling little sprigs of flowers on streets. Buses and trains weren't working, offices were closed, but streets were full of tourists and restaurants were making good business. In the midst of it all, I'd see people holding these little flowers. I was wondering what tradition it was to give flowers on Labour Day.

This morning, I went to the regular guy to buy some vegetables. At check out, the lady at the counter gave me this familiar looking sprig with little white flowers. Aah! I asked her what it was and she said it's a May Day tradition.

Still not satisfied, I came home and looked up the internet and found some interesting story behind this lovely tradition.

"SHOPS are shut, buses are not running, and unions are marching for workers’ rights, as France marks the Fête du Travail today. 

But, as well as work and workers, May 1 - which became a public holiday in France in 1947 - is associated with an older tradition. It is the Fête du Muguet, when thousands of roadside stalls selling lily of the valley spring up. The flower only became associated with workers’ rights in the 20th century. 

Last year the French forked out €31.8m to buy a sprig of lily of the valley (“muguet”) as a token of affection for family and loved ones. 

The tradition of giving lily of the valley flowers on May 1 is said to have begun in 1560, when knight Louis Girard presented King Charles IX with a bunch of lily-of-the-valley flowers as a token of luck and prosperity for the coming year. 

It is said that he took a shine to the idea and began the custom of presenting lily-of-the-valley flowers to the ladies of his court each year on the same day. 

Growers, particularly in the Loire-Atlantique, where 80% of cultivated plants will come from this year, have said that the recent mild conditions mean a bumper crop."

Solidarity

I spent this afternoon with my friend whom I met in drum class. She was planting some things in her garden and had given a shout out to anyone who was keen to help.

Naturally, I went to her place and to help her plant some tomatoes, strawberries, aubergines, and courgettes. On her terrace, there is a heightened platform of about a feet high, and about 4 by 4 in size. The earth in it had to be turned, pebbles removed, little weeds pulled out. A bunch of her other female friends had turned up too.

It turned out to be an afternoon of fun. I was meeting a few women for the first time. But over snacks and tales, we became acquainted and I found solidarity in this group which spanned across different ages and nationalities.

I know I am right when I smile at a stranger. I know it's the right foot forward when I say 'yes' to almost everything and 'no' almost never crosses my mind. I know I am right when I ask a question and am answered back in kind. And that's how a conversation begins.

That's all one needs to do to live a life filled with a colourful bouquet of experiences.

Silence

This morning, I found myself reading the newspaper without any surrounding noise and interruption. I looked up, checked myself and realized this was the first time since I arrived in India in early January that I had some time to myself.

Coming to Ahmedabad to visit my parents and siblings, whether from Bangalore or elsewhere, means a few days of peace and quiet and zero plans and commitments. It ALWAYS turns out to be the opposite.

This time around, there were a few events we had specifically wanted to be a part of. We welcomed a baby girl born to my sister-in-law in Bangalore. The 3 weeks preceding that saw me running around and lending a helping hand to anyone who asked. Besides, I was in Bangalore, my second home. I didn't want to miss out to reliving some past moments either. So meeting friends and driving alone at night along the inner ring road were high on the agenda.

My stay in Ahmedabad so far has been about eating out, eating in, managing and helping around the house and baby-sitting my niece and taking her out. My parents are busy people (!!) and I am often found wishing for some time away with just them for company. That way I can have undivided attention and some exclusive time with them.

I just returned from a wedding late last night. Weddings can be such an emotional time! It starts really high and ends with a really bad low. I was meeting some cousins after a long time, some for the first time.I was left wishing we'd meet more often, or at least be able to spend some more time together for some more fun and frolic. The older relatives looked older and I wished for their health. For some, I was left wondering if I'll be able to see them again. This entire gamut of emotions hits you within a short period....some 24 hours. And you are left alone to nurse the hangover...heavy-lid eyes, memories of laughter, separation pangs, heavy hearts, etc.

So a quiet morning seems meditative. I feel like for the first time in a long time, I was able to concentrate on the food in my plate and taste the daal and rice over lunch with my 87 year old, highly intellectual uncle who is missing the sense of speech and sound since he was 6 months old. Lunch felt like a meditation exercise. And I realized I had finally achieved the tall speeches 'life coaches' make about the power of silence.

Time

Time is endless in Your hands, O God. There is none to count Your minutes.

Days and nights pass, and ages bloom and face like flowers. You know how to wait.

Your centuries follow one another in perfecting a small wildflower.

We have no time to lose, and having no time, we must scramble for our chances. We are too poor to be late.

Thus it is that time goes by, while I give it to every querulous person who claims it, and Your altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day, I hasten in fear lest the gate be shut, but I find that there is yet time.

- 'The Heart of God' - Prayers of Rabindranath Tagore, 

Selected and edited by Herbert F. Vetter

Tranquil

I am learning how to use Photoshop for Rasadhwani.

I look outside to see dense fog and rain at 4:30 PM.

There is a bad cold in my head, threatening to spoil the first few days of a short trip we are embarking upon tomorrow.

Last night, at the party announcing Xmas break at drum class, I realized I might be heart broken when we finally have to move back home to India.

Pi's lullaby is on repeat.

There is a soft glow in the room from the lamp besides me.

Another year is coming to an end and I don't mind going down on my knees to say thanks to the powers that are.

I know 2014 is bringing me loads of positiveness and contentment, and I hope you find yours.

The Parisian Affair

(Part 1 and 2 are here and here.)

(This trip officially got over roughly a month and a half ago. That I am writing about it only now shows how lazy I have been about it. Bear with me! When I forget something, I look at pictures, close my eyes, or turn around and ask my husband. It helps that I do not have any major responsibilities bogging me down!)

As we bid goodbye to Germany and drove towards Paris, I felt a little melancholic. We were leaving behind the green mountains, which will soon be barren and ready for the white blanket of snow.

Big city Paris awaited us and I was really looking forward to visiting the city a second time. But it was a long way to go and just as we entered France from Germany, we decided to head to Strasbourg. It was on the way, no detour was required, and it doesn't hurt to spend some time in a new city. Strasbourg is just across the border, a big French city, heavily influenced by German architecture.

We parked near the city centre, walked towards the centre and came across a beautiful music shop selling excellent music. I bought a Brazilian capoeira music CD and my SIL got a classic...I think Bach. I could be wrong.

A walk around town brought us to a cathedral with Gothic architecture and beautiful colored glasses inside. Some pictures of Strasbourg.

I was really excited to see Paris again and see it through a fresh pair of eyes and also see it through my own memory. We left Strasbourg at around 1 that afternoon and estimated the arrival time at Paris around 5 hours later. It took us longer than that. We underestimated driving into the city, through the city. Not only were we met with traffic as we entered the city, but we also had to find our way through the city to our hotel. Small lanes, sometimes uphill, made navigation difficult. Eventually, we reached the hotel reception centre where the receptionist was practically waiting for us at the door. We quickly went through the formalities. We were told the studio used to be Picasso's studio while he lived in this district! My SIL and I decided to walk to the apartment and the guys followed reluctantly by car.

It was late by the time we settled in and we still had to go and deliver the car. We were tired after 2 hours of driving rather aimlessly in city traffic and must have broken a few traffic rules as well. It was absolute horror because we were racing across the city to deliver the car before 11 that night or face being charged for another day and we couldn't find a gas station. We managed fine with a few gentle souls to help us along the way.

I cannot begin to describe the excitement of living in the SAME apartment where Picasso lived! And we had direct, clear view of the Eiffel tower! For the next 4 days, we had unrestricted access to Paris as never before. We were not confined by schedules and maps. My brother and his wife were! But D and I were visiting for the second time and we just walked around, planned around their plans, and soaked in the very unique atmosphere of the city.

One particular moment stands out. D and I were at Sacré-Cœur Basilica in the Montmartre district of Paris. It was around noon. The sun was shining bright and we joined the other tourists and sat at the stairs. Our backs faced the basilica and we had a direct view of the city from the hilltop. There was a artist playing the harp and just as we sat, he started to play the Canon D. Now this tune is so close to my heart and I was in this marvelous city...the moment caught up on me and it was pure magic! I literally teared up behind my glasses!

Over the next few days, we ate pastries, cooked at the studio, stared at the tower from our windows till after midnight, visited Les Invalides and the Catacombs. The fees at the former were a little steep and we stood in line to enter the Catacombs but they stopped entry just when it was our turn. N and S were able to visit it the next day, though. We walked to the Panthéon and we were able to attend the mass service one fine Sunday morning at the Notre Dame Cathedral!

I played guide where I could, we ate ice cream and ate the lovely, hot French-onion soup, listened to artists and stopped to applaud and drop a few coins everywhere we saw them, at metro stations, under bridges, on the roadside. We repeated the bicycle tour we took the first time, in which we cycled around the city for 3 hours as night set upon us and then took a cruise along the Seine. D and I took walk tours and walked around the city with locals showing us the unknown nooks and corners of the city.

If it were possible, I'd be the one getting caught red-handed having a passionate affair with the city. Nothing I say and nothing you read and watch on TV can come close to describing the feeling of being IN the city. Would I live there? Perhaps a younger and careless self would have loved it. But the current self is just happy it got to visit the city a 3rd time, only for a weekend, to watch a dance recital! I planned my weekend in such a way that I allowed only 12 hours under the roof of a friend. The entire time I was out and about, walking along the Seine, sitting by the Eiffel and visiting the Musée d'Orsay.

Anyways, I had to get back to Marseille to commence dance lessons so D and I got back in the morning train and the other two followed at night. We were upon our last leg of this marvelous tour! Like always, when I end a travel post, I realise how lucky I have been to be able to see the places I have and experience these different cultures. An open heart and a smile on the face can get you some very good education.