More pictures of Romania, part II

It was...both funny and painful, watching Brazil being hammered to bits by the Dutch last night. I don’t think anyone was really surprised by what happened, but nevertheless, that must have hurt. Am quite looking forward to the final showdown today. Again, I don’t think there’s going to be too many surprises there, unless Germany decides to pull another 4 goals during a toilet break.

Hm. When I was going through my pictures today, I’d forgotten what bad weather I’d gotten during my last two days in Romania. Cloudy skies just aren’t good for photographs. They make everything look about 5 times worse. Nevertheless, it does lend character to the towns, it being Romania and all. If you replace these pseudo-modernist buildings with their medieval counterparts, it’s the perfect setting for Van Helsing.

Back in Brasov.

And this is what it’s supposed to look like, when the sky’s clearer.

Walking around Brasov’s old town.

Some more artistic graffiti to chew on.

And hey presto, we’re in the highly rated Sibiu again. The buildings with their peeping eyes.

One of their restaurants with their FIFA Brasil menus - which is extremely ironic, given what happened during the last week.

The parade as they go marching down.

Some more graffiti, this time right outside the hostel.

Aboard the train to Deva - there was practically no one else on board.

Corvinus Castle, named after the famous king Matthias Corvinus, whose name I really like. It looks and sounds so plushy.

And that concludes it, I think. Will follow up with some more if I’m still stuck on my dissertation. Oh, dear. No more memes for me - “Referinho couldn't help them” this morning cracked me up.

More pictures of Romania, part I

When I’m writing my blogs, I’m always faced with the difficult dilemma of picking photos. It’s always really hard when you’re faced with a slew of fantastic photos but you can only pick one or two. That’s been the case for almost every place I’ve been (which provided me with good weather).

So I decided to go through my photos from the places where I’ve finished my entries, and what better place to start with than Romania?

And I give you part I.

Bran Castle.

You’ll notice this picture’s the same as the banner picture I use for this blog. Actually, I don’t think it’s the same - but I took about 5 or 6 photos of it from the same spot, so it counts anyway. Looks spectacular, doesn’t it?

Bran castle and its main courtyard.

Within its grounds

We’re in Sinaia now - and this is its train station. I really liked this little village, nestled within the Carpathians. This village was a lot closer to what I had imagined Romania to be like.

The photogenic Peles Castle, and prepare to be inundated by photos.

Even the statues of animals look vampy.

The castle - and I’ve got about 30 other pictures of it that are both breathtaking and look almost exactly the same.

Atop of Rasnov Fortress

The “silva” in Transilvania/Transylvania.

More to come soon, since I’m kind of stuck on my dissertation. 

France, part III – la belle Toulouse

(A/N: And that's the last of my entries from my old blog, for now. Wow. Didn't take as long as I expected. The tricky part is getting to know how to operate your new blog, all of that boring technical stuff. Once you've got that under your belt, the rest is child's play.)


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“Life is filled with strangers who shape our lives, both good and bad. All the people you meet leave a piece of themselves with you.” (source)

I was browsing through some travel blogs whilst planning my Polski jaunt this afternoon, and this particular paragraph really struck a chord with me. I think I’m going to write a very emotional post when I get to the Barcelona part of my travels (which is the next one, as a matter of fact). The hard thing is deciding how much of myself I’m going to put into it, since a lot of it was pretty personal (in a good way though, not bad, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking!). Even though I adored all the people I want to write about, I think I’d feel weird if I were them, and I was reading my blog, and came across a sentence describing me as “having the cutest socks ever, and a smile to die for.” (A/N: This is just a fictional example. FYI, all of the people I met had great smiles, and I didn’t notice the pattern of their socks, or if they were even wearing any in the first place.) Can’t have too much of a good thing. When you’re on holiday and you’re meeting lots of new people from parts of the world that you’ve never been to yourself, it’s an exhilarating experience. You observe them, you analyse them, you hang on to their every word, you put their thoughts and actions into a cultural context, you find yourself referring to them by their nationalities, you watch them for stereotypes (I plead guilty to this. Very, very guilty) and you formulate opinions of them. And you find yourself wondering if you’ll ever see them again. Adding each other on facebook is a luxury exclusive to the 21st century traveller (I’m thinking Before Sunrise now, and the fact that the first film was shot in the 90s, and they agreed not to exchange landlines/addresses. What would they have done in today’s world!), if you can call it a “luxury.” It’s a bittersweet feeling when you talk to each other on skype/facebook/whatsapp/email, but deep down inside you know that the possibility of you meeting up again in person is slim, and if you meet again, you’ll still have to say goodbye. Before you know it, your relationship fades into that of liking each other’s drunk Friday night pictures, or cheesy Suarez memes. (For the record, I do not have any drunk pictures. )

But enough with the commiserating, and on with my travel log/blog/diary/post.

The Fondation Bemberg, an art gallery that offers free admission to students for its permanent exhibition.

I then went over to the Saint-Étienne, in the heart of the old city (Carmes), and got my very first taste of Continental gothic cathedrals. It was a magnificent piece of work, very calming. I spent quite a while here finding my inner peace before moving on to my next destination.

Outside the Saint-Etienne, otherwise known as the Toulouse Cathedral

Inside the Cathedral

Be sure to check out the organ, suspended in mid-air.

Walked over to the Saint-Cyprien side of la Garonne for a light lunch and nap. Probably one of my favourite parts of this entire trip. In retrospect, I did lots of outdoor napping when I was in France, but in all of the other countries, my schedule was either too packed (no time to lounge around since I had about 8 castles to visit in one morning), the weather was not right (too hot, no trees, no river, raining etc.), or it simply wasn’t safe enough for me to let my guard down (yes that’s you I’m talking about, Romania..and quite possible a tincy bit of Iberia too). But France…France was just so right for everything. It may have set the bar rather higher than expected. Everyone, and I do mean everyone I know, who went to northern France Paris either got mugged, looted or pickpocketed, so I was initially wary of everyone who came close or spoke to me. It took me about half a day to realise that I was grievously mistaken and that Toulouse was, in all honesty, probably the safest city I’ve ever been in all my travels.

With the Pont-Neuf in the background

Another thing that made Toulouse special for me was the fact that it’s not a touristy place, but it certainly deserves to be, much more so than some other places I’ve been. It’s a comfortably-paced city that’s very tourist-friendly and stress-free, and it also boasts a wealth of rich cultural heritage sights. Isn’t that what every traveller longs for, the best of both worlds? When I first arrived in Toulouse, I was amazed by how clear the air was, and how empty the streets were – empty’s not really the word I’m looking for here, but when you’ve lived in capital cities for the whole of your life, you get used to people and vehicles strewn – no, packed – all over the place. In Toulouse, you can walk everywhere without being jogged by someone’s elbow/overtaken/pushed/shoved/nudged. The cars do not play tetris with bicycles and motorcycles and pedestrians. The people were friendly and obliging and the food of course was wonderful – although the laurel wreath for culinary delights still has to go to Romania. How I do miss Moldovian stew and polenta.

When I walked back to Pont-Neuf, I saw this, which made me laugh. Although Jean-Luc Picard was supposed to be French, after all.

"Make it so."

The Esquirol, located in the city centre, close to the oldest part of the city, Carmes. Medieval, cobbled streets and a slew of fascinating shops.

I had booked a  boat cruise down the Canal du Midi with Paladine Boat Tours at the tourist office. It was a very good price, in my opinion – 6 euros, and the cruise lasts for 70 minutes. The captain was a very friendly man and the scenery…Well, the scenery just blew me away. It felt like I’d stepped into Middle Earth, into the realm of Thranduil Elvenking. Or probably Lothlorien. Unsurprisingly, the Canal is also an UNESCO World Heritage site.

The breathtakingly beautiful Canal du Midi, which commenced construction in 1667

It was quite extraordinary. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I don’t suppose I ever shall again. The waters were quite still, and mirrored the overhanging boughs perfectly.

There was a bicycle trail along the Canal, which I walked for an hour before deciding I wanted dinner. I took another nap by the canal before going home.

Where the Canal du Midi begins

This shop sells the best paninis I have ever tasted in my life. After the second day, I started going to this shop almost exclusively, and tried practically everything on the menu. The shopkeepers were very nice.

It’s located on the Rue Saint Rome.

On the fifth day, I bade adieu to Toulouse and took a bus to Barcelona. The journey was hot and boring, though cheap (all other alternate methods cost over 60 pounds, while eurolines cost me 20 euros) and I managed to arrive safely in Barcelona Sants at about 4 in the afternoon, after a 7-hour journey. But that of course is another story.

I really liked Toulouse, and I think it’s far too underrated. People go to places like Barcelona and Paris all the time, but you barely ever know anyone who goes to southern France, apart from the obvious places like Avignon, Lyon and Marseilles. I’ve strayed off the beaten path quite a bit, but it’s opened my eyes up to new vistas, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m writing this at my desk in London Bridge now, and the sky outside is blue as speedwells, and I’m reminded of Capitole in the early evening hours; its resplendence in the rays of the slowly setting sun, children laughing and running in the plaza, a man playing the Blue Danube on his accordion, me and my panini. Thinking of Barcelona and the days to come, those days in the future that are now in the past, those early summer days that will never come again and thrive only in sweet, obscure memory.

Legolas Greenleaf long under tree, in joy thou hast lived!

(A/N: Have a feeling that I’ll get VERY depressed when I start writing my Barcelona entries. I already feel kind of lousy now. Am going out to get some Ben and Jerry’s to cheer myself up. People automatically assume that travellers are a flighty bunch, that we’re so much better at saying goodbye because we’re always on the move. And that’s just not true. We travel because we want to find the people we fell in love with (I mean this in the broadest sense of the term, in a completely platonic context) from our previous journeys; that Scandinavian boy with the disarming smile and tousled hair who shared your passion for Indiana Jones, especially Raiders of the Lost Ark; the Irish girl who debated Freud and Foucault with you in the hostel all night and whom you ended up going out for a beer with; the Romanian boy whom you talked to all night using google translate because you couldn’t speak Romanian and he couldn’t speak English, and you somehow ended up singing the Numa Numa song together. Alors, sometimes you do find them, but then you have to say goodbye again, and the cycle begins anew.

And where does that leave us?

OK, I know I’m rambling and incoherent. I’d better just go to Sainsbury’s now.)

France, part II – the journey in Toulouse continues

Toulouse’s old city centre and most of its sightseeing spots are located in their downtown district. It’s easy to get around by foot, which is what I did. I did rent a bike for a day, which was SUPER cheap – 1.20 euros for 24 hours, using the Velo Toulouse scheme, which has kiosks all over town (and one right outside my hotel). Toulouse – well, actually, all of France – is a great place to bike, with well-planned and comfortable bicycle trails running alongside their famous rivers and canals. The intrepid traveller can pick up a detailed bike trail map for free at the Tourist Office, located in the Capitolium.

One of my friends goes to the University of Toulouse, although unfortunately he was working near Paris at the time and was unable to leave. He was kind enough, however, write me a VERY comprehensive guide to the city, which was extremely helpful.

I started from the city centre, the famous Capitole/Capitolium.

The Capitole

Splurged on a French crepe. After enduring 7 months of decidedly British food, this was bliss.

Yum, though not that cheap at 4 euros

I then walked to the Église des Jacobins nearby, which was a beautiful, serene place. Admission was free.

The next place I went to was the Basilique of Saint-Sernin. I didn’t manage to get in since I couldn’t find the entrance, and there were gaggles of jaded-looking teenagers lolling about, smoking and drinking, so I didn’t stay in the neighbourhood long. My friend had also warned me that it was a bit dodgier than most of other places in Toulouse, and advised me to steer clear of it.

 

Saint-Sernin

Back to the Capitole.

There’s a very nice memorial of Charles de Gaulle in Jean-Jaurès.

After going back to the hotel to eat and rest (got some sandwiches from the nearby Carrefour), I went over to Pont-Neuf, the only old bridge across La Garonne, which was built between 1544 and 1626. My friend told me that the holes carved into it were made to reduce the pressure on the bridge during river floods.

A lovely stroll along the Garonne.

As I walked along the Quai Lucien Lombard, I had a splendid view of the Place de la Daurade and Place Saint Pierre. According to my friend, the homogeneity of the block was due to the fact that it had been planned by the government just before the outbreak of the French Revolution. In the aftermath of the Revolution, the houses were completed by various different private owners, hence the wide variety of style and technique.

A closer look

I really HAVE to write my holiday diaries right after I get back. I’m looking at these pictures right now and remembering snippets of my thoughts when I took them, but that’s all they are: fragments and bits of a much bigger picture that’s all but lost to me now. Photographs are all very good, but the emotional aspect of travelling is just as important as the travelling itself. I do remember taking numerous strolls along the Garonne, buying a chocolatine at a shop my friend recommended, and eating it by the riverbank and napping in the green shade of the weeping willows. A dog came up and practically breathed down my neck, so I ended up giving him my chocolatine, which he wolfed down eagerly before loping away. It wasn’t till much later that I remembered belatedly that dogs aren’t supposed to eat chocolate. The late afternoon sun filtering through the trees, the wind ruffling the grass and teasing out my hair – that’s what I do remember, and listening to Hotel California on replay.

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,'said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can checkout any time you like,
but you can never leave!'

and I look up into the blue skies

Prologue to continental#1; France, part I – the Cite de Carcassonne

(2014/07/12 A/N: Am still migrating the contents of my old blog over to this one, and the server at blog.com is so ghastly it's not even funny any more. I have not been able to login to my account ever since I got back from Poland. Everytime I try that a huge "502 Bad Gateway/nginx/1.0.15" shows up, or the page doesn't load. I find it difficult to believe that such a bad server host could exist in today's world. I can't even get into my account to announce that I've moved over here. Wow. This world's insane.)



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This entry has been woefully late in coming. My first trip to Europe started on the 12th of May, and now it’s the 24th..of June. (A/N: Well, it WAS, when I was writing this..!)
The first few parts of this entry were written before I went to Romania, and I’ve noticed a slight discrepancy between my writing then and now. I’ve become more flippant, I think. And, of course, since it’s already been more than a month and loads has happened since then, I’ll have forgotten lots of things, but I still have the pictures, at least.

Before I go any further, I’d like to talk about what this initial trip to the Continent meant to me. I’d been abroad before on my own (that’s actually what I’m doing right now with my degree and London) and I am the sort of person who likes to spend lots of quality alone time, which means plenty of solo trips out and about. This, however, was very much different to anything I’d ever done. I was going to countries I’d never been before, where I didn’t speak the language, and I’d never planned out a proper itinerary for myself like this one (the first of many to come!). It was fantastic, tailoring a whole trip for myself, but it was also an extremely daunting and time consuming task. And to be honest, I had no idea what to expect – I wasn’t really thinking about travel dangers, not speaking the language and other things. What I did was plan my trip meticulously, right down to the last detail. I booked ALL of my tickets, be they train/bus/coach/sightseeing hotspots – online and beforehand, and printed them all out. I downloaded the offline google maps of all the places I was planning to visit – we live in the 21st century and GPS is a godsend for the intrepid hopelessly naive first-time traveller. I also took out an annual travel insurance that covers the whole of the Schengen area. It’s a long, torturous procedure, but it’s incredibly rewarding, and this whole experience has been a life-changing one, although again it’s not something I can fully express in words, but I’ll try my best, as I relive my journey through these entries.

A quick overview of my itinerary – 19 days in total, which I started off by spending 4 days in France (Toulouse and Carcassonne), 5 days in Barcelona, 3 days in Portugal, then it was over to Maastricht (a Dutch town on the Belgic/German border), which I used as a base to make day trips to Belgium (Bruges and Ghent), Germany (Aix-la-Chapelle) and Luxembourg (Luxembourg City and Vianden). I spent an average of 16 euros a day (this sum includes tickets, living expenses and so on).

So, without any further ado, I give you..the entry I wrote two weeks prior.

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My travels so far have consisted of endless castles and gothic cathedrals which are fine and dandy but somehow all end up looking the same.

My masters life is one where I go through cans and cans of fizzy drinks. If I were the drinking type of person I would probably drink a lot. But yes, lots and lots of soft drinks, cans, and meeting beautiful boys in Europe who want to have a serious relationship with me, whatever that means. This is the life.

My dad was in Toulouse for a summit, which was the sole reason I decided to make it my first destination. The cheapest way of getting there from London was to fly to Carcassonne (15 pounds) and take a train from there (12 euros). I decided to make a bit of time for CCF, since there was apparently a lovely fortress there that I really wanted to see. I touched down in Carcassonne, France on Monday afternoon. Bit of a bumpy ride, but the incredibly hot flight attendant named Carlos more than made up for it. If heaven existed, all angels would look like him. I think he caught me staring at him on more than one occasion. He’s wasted as a flight attendant. He should become a male supermodel, or go into acting. I’ve never seen anyone as perfect as him. Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to get a picture of him. The plane was a tiny 737 model.

I don’t like flying, which is odd, because when I was little I loved it. Then again, there is a considerable difference between short flights and long haul flights. The 737 plane kept shaking, the seat was unadjustable and the table was wobbly. I kept wondering if the plane would lose all structural integrity halfway across the Bay of Biscay.

Anyway, I arrived in Carcassonne airport, and took the shuttle from the airport to the train station. The driver was a very jovial man who spoke splendid English.

A view from the Gare de Carcassonne

I thought Carcassonne was a very picturesque little town, with narrow streets which are typical of European towns, though I didn’t realize this until I’d reached my third city.

Carcassonne’s claim to fame is the Cite de Carcassonne, which features a rather splendid medieval citadel (an UNESCO World Heritage site), with a lovely little bridge.

The bridge

After I’d crossed the bridge, it was a rather steep climb. A rather nice panoramic view of the city could be seen, but of all the city panoramas I’ve seen on this trip (Barcelona, Luxembourg, Lisbon), the best one belongs to Lisbon, with Luxembourg coming a very close second. But that’s a detail for another entry.

The Cite

The Cite de Carcassonne, best viewed from one of the bridges. I really wish I’d gotten blue skies; cloudy days make for awful pictures. Going into the citadel was free, but it was not that impressive. I did like the conical towers, though.

Construction work being done. Again.

A chapel within the Cite.

There was too much construction work going on, which spoiled my pictures. The weather at this point had gotten kind of blustery, which is typical. It did that too in loads of other places I went to on this trip, such as Belgium, which was such a shame, because Belgium was – is – gorgeous.

Well, I reached Toulouse within an hour (the train ride was very pleasant), and met my dad, which was fantastic. One thing about travelling is that you pick up bits and pieces of their languages. Gare for train station in France, for instance, which proved to be surprisingly useful.

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(A/N: This is the ‘present’ (well, the /6/24) me speaking, now. I am starving. Why oh why am I so perpetually HUNGRY?)

I didn’t do much after I arrived in Toulouse from CCF- had a nice soak in the tub, cooked some ramen, and went on facebook. And I think that this is quite enough for a prologue, so I’ll stop here with a teaser of Toulouse’s city square. In retrospect, this was one of my favourite Continental cities. Till then, adieu!

 

The Rue Lafayette