Being Bohemian (Dec'09)

My next stop was České Budějovice which, thankfully, had more vowels (and also more accents) than Ljubljana. It was a beautiful day to take the train from Ljubljana to České Budějovice - snow all around and not a cloud in the sky. I was looking forward to enjoying the view from the warmth of the carriage even though I had to change trains twice (at Salzburg and Linz). Since the first change was about three hours away, I decided to catch some zzzzzzs. Unfortunately the plan went out of the train window when the elderly Slovene lady in my coupe decided to practice her English with (on?) me. For the next 2 hours, till she got off at Villach, I had to hear her views on any and everything. And she didn't take the hint even when I was reciprocating with increasingly shorter 'hmmmm's and 'aaaaah's. The only insightful comment she made was when she was describing her family dog: "He must be English, because he eats only cake". Sunlight was wafting into the coupe and I really wanted to sleep badly but I had to hear all sorts of details of her life (which I usually enjoy hearing but that day I just wasn't in the mood) including how often she got drunk when she had visited London in the 1950s. Needless to say I said a silent prayer of thanks when she got off at Villach.

As they say, when you rid yourself of one trouble, another one manifests itself immediately. At Villach, the train developed some problems and was stuck on the platform for about 45 minutes which meant that I would miss my connection at Salzburg. I decided to cross the bridge when I would get to it etc. and dozed off. But, as soon as the train stopped at Salzburg, I ran to the nearest TT to find out where one could catch the train to Linz. And there was another Indian asking him the same question. Having got our answer, we both ran towards platform so-and-so. And in the process of doing so, we quickly exchanged what two Indians exchange as soon as we meet - our geographical origins. And we both laughed when we asked each other our names- he was also Anurag. And as we chatted on the train to Linz we realised that both of us have the same disease of wanting to incessantly travel - we figured it had something to do with the name. In his defence he is a Bengali so travel is in his genes, I have no such excuse.

Since we caught a later-than-expected train to Linz, I had to make an additional change at Summerau at the Austrian-Czech border before I finally got to České Budějovice. I was cursing ÖBB (Austrian Railways) throughout the journey right upto Summerau. But all that melted when we saw what was to get us from Summerau to České Budějovice – it was a one-carriage train that was straight out of the 70s. That, coupled with the fact that it was full of ticket checkers who were going home after calling it a day, made it feel as if we were really back into the Communist Era. That is the beauty of travel – when you have a bad or moderately uncomfortable experience, it is immediately compensated for by something totally pleasant and unexpected.

So after this bitter and extremely sweet experience I finally made it to České Budějovice – my namesake was going to Prague so he had to change a train yet again. The first thing I noted in České Budějovice were the 'high' temperatures (around 5-6 degrees) which meant that I had to take off my layers of clothing. Tired, I got to the hotel which was bang in the centre of town – I congratulated myself on having got it right for once. The receptionist at the hotel made my day even brighter. She was easily the most beautiful apparition (I am getting carried away) I have seen for quite a while. Delicately dressed, she was not too sure of what she was doing - after she fumbled with the paper work (which to me seemed in slow motion) and handed me the keys, I asked her a few questions about town (where can I find this? Where can I find that? etc). At every question, she would blush and nod her head with a ‘No, I’m not sure. Sorry’. For someone who looked like that all sorts of crime (let alone a petty one of ignorance) were forgiven. Sadly I never saw her again (maybe she made sure she wasn’t there when the creepy Indian who asks lots of questions was around).

Ok now a bit about the town. České Budějovice is in Bohemia (the western part of the Czech Republic, which also includes Prague). České Budějovice's German name is Budweis and the beer brewed there is called 'Budweiser Budvar' which is not to be confused with the extremely poor imitation made in the US. Because of the brewery, and the fact that it is not a very well-touristed town, the beer here is ridiculously cheap, even in the hippest of bars (there was one inconveniently close to the hotel where I was staying). The town has an extremely large square Naměstí Přemysla Otakara II which is supposed to be (like every other square in every other European city) one of the largest in Europe – it is surrounded by ornate Baroque buildings, including the town hall. The carillon which went off from its bell-tower every hour sounded as if it was being played by a child with no sense of rhythm and tune - and this would go on for at least 2-3 minutes. After being irritated the first few times I heard it, I actually started enjoying how bad (and charming!) it sounded.

I was pleased to note that there was an Indian restaurant in the heart of town – unfortunately I could not test how genuine it was since it was closed for X’mas and New year holidays! I had to settle for faux-chinese food.

On X’mas day, being in the Yuletide spirit and all, I went for a concert in the town church hoping to hear some good music. The lady sitting next to me gave me very encouraging looks (she was perhaps impressed by this non-Christian in the House of God) but those looks of encouragement were quickly replaced by disappointment when she figured that I didn't say 'Amen' or cross myself at the appropriate times.

From České Budějovice, I visited a couple of other Bohemian towns. The first was Český Krumlov, an extremely beautiful town. Since I was travelling there on Christmas eve, I was a bit nervous as there was only one bus running between České Budějovice and Český Krumlov. I checked with the driver (twice) at what time the return bus would be running. I reconfirmed whether it would definitely be running. Using gestures (he didn’t speak English) he convinced me that I would be fine. Armed with this borrowed confidence I decided to risk it. Český Krumlov (literal translation ‘Bohemian Krumlov’) is situated on a circular bend of the river Vltava (the same that runs through Praha). With its beautiful narrow winding inclined paved streets, it is like a miniature Praha (though prettier and less busy version). The castle, which seemed a tad too large for a town of its size, is perched on a cliff the other side of the river and looks quite daunting and beautiful at the same time. I spent my time walking around and pinching myself time and again at the inexpensiveness of the beer.

As I got back to the bus station to catch the bus back to České Budějovice, I saw the reassuring smile of the same driver I had seen in the morning. He said ‘See, the bus run’. And then I tried Italian with him (it always works in this part of Europe) and immediately be switched to fluent Italian (a little too fluent for me!) and explained that both his sisters are married to Italians and settled in Italy which is why he learnt the language.

From České Budějovice, I also visited Plzeň (in western Bohemia) which was quite industrial and dull. However, the centre of town (with a largish square with an even largish church surrounded by pastry-like pink, yellow, and pastel-coloured baroque buildings) was quite a nice place to amble around and savour the town’s speciality. The German name for Plzeň is Pilsen and the beer brewed here is Pilsner Urquell (Urquell means 'original source' or 'fountainhead'). You get the idea!

My Bohemian rhapsody over, I moved to Salzburg. As I waited for the train at České Budějovice (hoping that the train would be the single-carriage one), I realised that 2 trains left from the same platform at the same time (in opposite directions). Fortunately, I managed to get on the right one (and didn't find myself in Praha). A few hours later I landed in (to use an Americanism) tourist-central! While I was lucky enough to avoid seeing too many tourists for the majority of this trip, I realised that the worst for saved for the last. There were simply too many tourists in Salzburg (given that it was X’mas time - what did I expect?).

The X’mas market was nice (and ridiculously huge), so was the organ-concert I went for, as was the meal at the Indian restaurant, but the overall Salzburgian experience was spoilt by the presence of far too many tourists. Well, if you can't beat them.....So I went for (yes, I am embarassed to admit it) a 'Sound of Music' tour. They took us to some of the locations where the film was shot ('this is where so-and-so serenaded so-and-so' and 'this is where she got married to him' etc. etc.). And in between 'locations' everyone would break into a song. Fortunately the person sitting next to me on the bus was equally untutored in ALL the lyrics of ALL the songs of the film. Maybe I need to see the film for a second time (which is only about 500 times less than all the others on the tour!).

But I did manage to end my trip on a happy and calorie-filled note when I partook of a Sacher Torte (not once but twice) at Hotel Sacher (only two places in the world where you can get the original). Reminds me, I need to go for my run - the calories have still not been burnt off...

The Polite Hungarians (Nov, 2008)

Let me break the chronological order and come to the last place first - Budapest. I've been travelling for close to two weeks now - fatigue in my bones is probably an understatement. On my first day in the Hungarian capital, I walked towards the main square - till that point it appeared to be a charmless city with wide leafy roads and too much of traffic. There were some decent looking buildings and the girls were pretty in a shy sort of way. But that was about it.

On this main square, a horrendous accident had taken place which did nothing to alleviate my fast-souring mood (with wailing ambulance sirens and the police cars all around me). I was tired and a reasonably far way away from my hotel. I then decided to call it a day (in the hope that the next day would be better) when I decided to do one last bit of sightseeing - there were turkish-style thermal baths close to where I was. I walked into to have a look around - there was a long list of tariffs in Magyar - I was emboldened by the presence of a few diffident looking Indian boys who paid and walked in. Well if they can, so could I. So, I made the payment of 2600 Hungarian Forint and boldly entered.

Problem no. 1 - I had to change into something more appropriate for a bath - remember I was not sartorially prepared to go for a soak.
Problem no. 2 - I'm shy of public display of skin.

I somehow overcame both the problems - i'll spare you details of the logistical difficulties of before, just before, just after, and after I dipped into the bath.

There were number of rooms with little pools (all at different temperatures) and hundreds (i'm not joking) of people either lazing in the pools or wandering around. When I stepped outside, I was taken aback by what I saw - there were two huge outdoor baths with the most elaborate fountains and waterfalls and hundreds of people - some chatting, some playing chess (in the water), some drinking beer, some snoozing and yet others contemplating the meaning of life. Though it was quite cold outside, the water itself was around 35-36 degrees. I, despite the aforesaid fear of public display of skin and the fact that I am swimming-challenged, stayed in the water for more than an hour. I'm also proud to report that, unlike countless other who were holding their breaths while walking, I didn't have to do that as I've lost all traces of my paunch. Anyways, the baths (which I went for on each of my four days in Budapest) were easily the single most relaxing activity I have done in a long while.

Ok a bit of a rewind first.

I took an hour long train journey from Vienna to a town (village?) called Melk - it is (also!) on the Danube and is known for its 1000-year old Benedectine (something to do with St. Benedict) monastery. Monks have been living here for over 900 years. It has been done and redone up in the previous 300 years so it looks very colourful (quite unlike the dark and dungeony one where Sean Connery solved the mystery in 'In the Name of the Rose'). The town itself is as quaint as they come in the corners of Europe - narrow winding cobbled streets with tiny shops selling embroidered and wooden trinkets (run by cute old ladies who move is slower than slow motion). There wasn't much to do there apart from sitting on roadside cafes and watching the locals (who all obviously knew each other. Melk Popn: 6k) and tourists (thankfully no loud americans) walking by the corner fountains and pastry shops selling strudels and sachertortes. Though a lot of the architecture is old 16-17th century, the buildings have all been restored in the 18th century baroque fashion to give it a very rich look. All in all a very relaxing day.

Now onto Bratislava - it is the capital of Slovakia and is only about 50 miles from Vienna (actually Vienna and Bratislava are the closest capital cities in the world - if one doesn't consider the Rome-Vatican City connection). When the Turks overran Hungary, the capital was moved to Bratislava (How's that for history?). Anyways, when I reached Bratislava, I wandered around for quite a while at the railway station to catch Tram No. 13 to the centre of town. I could see trams going in and out of the tram station but I couldn't find a way of getting there! There was apparently a narrow alley between two buildings from where one had to take an escalator (a sign of things to come?). The short tram journey to the centre of town did nothing raise my expectations about Bratislava. There were ramshackle communist style buildings and the tram itself was falling apart (Somehow, the town reminded me of Ulan Baatar). Thankfully, the centre of town turned out to be a cute and agreeable place - colourful buildings, cobbled streets, and small shops (that seems to be the motto for this trip of mine!). The town really transforms itself at night when all the buildings are lit up (energy conservation doesn't seem to be too hot an idea in this part of the world). Touristically speaking, there is not much to see in Bratislava apart from
(1) Danube (yes, it was following me everywhere), and
(2) Bratislava Castle - which looks like an upturned table. It is currently undergoing renovation so I wasn't able to visit it.
What surprised me about Bratislava was that there were no Indians visible, and NO Indian restaurants (good cuisine obviously is not appreciated there. As of now, atleast). But there was a plaque commemorating (atleast that is what I thought ) a visit by Dzawaharlal Nehru, father of Indira Gandhiova!

Ok, now back to Budapest - As some of you know, Budapest is actually 2 separate cities - Buda and Pest. They are both separated by the Danube (again!). Buda is the hilly residential part which also houses the Castle (on a hill). The views from Buda hill across the city are really amazing - and it looks even better at night. Pest, true to its name, is the commercial and touristy part where all the visitors like yours truly spoil the character of the city. The city has large leafy boulevards and old baroque buildings (many of which are sadly crumbling) which seems to be the norm in this part of the world (so it has ceased to amaze me after 14 days).

The parliament house looks like cousin of the one at London but from inside this one is like a palace - it has very sumptious looking rooms and extremely rich interiors. There is small model of the entire building which was built out of matches (using over 100,000 matches).

It is interesting how people who speak an acquired language tend to use formalities and politesses which native speakers dont use. But in Hungary when they use those formalities they say it with so much of earnestness that it is endearing. The number of times i've heard someone say 'have a nice day' or 'thank you so much' and ACTUALLY mean it is really heartening. On a bus I moved to let an elderly gentleman sit next to me. He said 'Koszonom' (thanks in Magyar) a couple of times when he realised I spoke no Magyar. He asked me 'Speak English?'
I nodded my head in the affirmative
Then he said 'hello'
I helloed him back.
The rest of our journey was in silence.
Just when he was about to leave he said 'Good bye. Have a good day. Thank you. Hello.'
He used all the English words he knew to say bye to me. And he meant every word of them.

Another heartening aspect here is that despite the large number of tourists here, capitalism and greed don't seem to have spread their roots here (atleast as of now). The people come across as very simple and warm and one sees very few of the tacky in-your-face souvenir shops. If a person is begging he'll literally apologize for having to do so. And if you say 'no', he or she will still say 'have a nice day'.

And I won't be surprised if the person running a taxi service catering to tourists would gladly give directions to an alternative cheap bus service that runs from across the road and gives him competition. But I'm sure all this will change very soon. Sadly.

There were two other things that struck me about Budapest (apart from the thermal baths, that is).
Firstly, the number of bookshops. Almost every second shop is a book shop. People here must really like to read!
Secondly, the escalators to the metro stations are dizzyingly steep. Btw, there are three lines here (all of which intersect at the same station) and the first of these lines is apparently Continental Europe's first metro line

Well, as they say 'good things come to an end' - today was the last day of my holidays (sigh!) and I rounded up my trip with a Schubert concert in the main church in Buda.

Guten Tag from Vienna (Oct, 2008)

As soon as the train left wet and rainy Prague, the weather became clear and the sun made a prolonged appearance in the skies. It was a indeed a pleasure to sleep in the gentle sunlight wafting in through the carriage windows though there was a sense of trepidation as I knew my strech of good weather luck would not last. and that it would be raining and muggy in Vienna. But it did last (for some time atleast!)

How one reacts to a new city depends on a number of factors - the journey, the expectations, the first place one visits, the crowds, the weather. My introduction to Prague was a cold, wet day (or rather evening) yet the first things I saw were the twin gothic spires of the Tyn church rising through the mist. That took my breath away and the subsequent overwhelming crowds at Prague castle and the constant rain could do nothing to spoil that first wonderful impression I got of Prague.

Vienna, on the other hand, was a different start. After checking-in, I reached Schotten-ring that is at the heart of the city and walked along Karl Lueger Ring towards Rathaus and the Parliament. The buildings were, no doubt, beautiful but I found the traffic a bit too heavy and fast and the horse-drawn buggies a tad tacky (even though I found them charming in Prague). All this despite the fact that the weather was a dreamy 16-17 degrees with the sun out in its full glory (so much for my fear in the train!).

So I didn´t like Vienna?

Initially yes, but then this changed as soon as I reached the Hofburg area. Suddenly the traffic melted and the horse carriages seemed to become quaint. Yes, I was beginning to like Vienna.

Vienna has a preponderance of Museums - Kunsthistorisches (sp? - Art history) museum which has a smacking collection of paintings as well as Greek/Roman/Egyptian artefacts, Royal Apartments (the residence of the Hapsburgs, the monarchy of Austria) and the silverware collection of the royal household (which at times catered to over 5k people - lavish and ornate are probably understatements - the most interesting parts are the elaborately folded napkins, the technique for which is apparently a state secret) and the 18th C Albertina which had an extremely comprehensive Van Gogh exhibition (which over 200 of his paintings and drawings). Much to my dismay, the museum also had a few Michelangelos which were hidden in an obscure corner. Another great museum is the Belvedere which has a number of stunning paintings - especially by Klimt and some lesser known (atleast to a philistine like me) artists.

The Schloss Schonbrunn is the poor man´s Versailles. The Summer Palace of the Habsburgs is not nearly as big or opulent and the rococco and baroque decorations are not even half as rich looking as that of the Louis´ Palace. There was, however, one interesting room in 40-odd rooms that are open to the public - it is called the Millions Room because of the special kind of teak used in the room. However, the paintings (over 200) were all miniature mughal´s cut into weird shapes by the royal family themselves (talk about boredom!). The palace complex had a outdoor labyrinth maze made of bushes and hedges (like in the movies) - it was fun to get lost in it - but even more interesting was the look on everyones face (especially the adults) - one of pure childish sheepishness
I even paid to visit a museum dedicated to King Franz Joseph´s wife Elisabeth (second half of the 19th c). He called her ´Sisi´and that is what Vienna knows her as and that is what the Museum is also called. It was a strange to visit a Museum dedicated to someone I had not even heard of before coming to Vienna. She was an early version of Lady Di - she was obsessed with her figure - even after 4 children she maintained her waist at 51 cm. Her images adorn everything in Vienna (from chocolates to Postcards, everything). Her hold over the souvenir market in Vienna is matched only by a certain Mr. Mozart. What Kafka is to Prague, Amadeus is to Vienna. Enough said.

One of the places I most enjoyed (and repatronised with my custom) was ´Cafe Central´. Vienna has a very strong coffee-house culture (India Coffee House, anyone?) and Cafe Central is one of the best - Freud spent hours there, as did Trotsky. The atmosphere is very 1920s. People wearing their best pearls and dresses come and smoke cigars and expensive cigarettes while agonising philosophy, and perhaps literature, over endless cups of coffee. A grand piano in the middle of the hall was being played by a dead-ringer for Henry Kissinger. I ordered the obligatory caffeine when I noticed that someone at the table next to me was having beer (the-neighbour´s-wife-is-always-prettier syndrome) so when I asked the server if beer was available, he looked insulted. ´Ofcourse we have beer. Austrian beer gut bear´. That sealed it for me and I ordered my pint of Ottakring. Freud, hopefully, would have approved.

Another must visit for the gourmand is the Sacher cafe in Hotel Sacher. The name rings a bell? It was here in 1832 that a certain Mr. Sacher hurriedly concocted a torte that still bears his name and the ´original´ is sold only at this cafe. Seeing the busy looking waitresses in their aprons with ribbons at the back, one is transported back to the Cafe Central days! Surprisingly the tarte itself was not as overpriced as I had expected it to be, but it did predictably have the 5000 calories I had expected it to have. I, obviously, need not sing paeans to its taste. That is a given. And proof of the eating was a few minutes later when I entered the ladies room instead of the men´s and only after a suitably scandalised lady kept on uttering Damen and pointing to the door, did I realise my mistake. Ofcourse I attribute it to the heady and tasty sugar which the management of that cafe had put into that torte.

Now coming onto yet another Viennese institution - The Spanish Riding School (Spanische Hofreitschule) with their snow-white Lippizzaner stallions. They have a weekly show and I did manage tickets for it even though I dont know the first thing about equestrianism (perhaps not even the correct adjective). The show is in their indoor 18th century riding hall that is photo-op in itself. Once the music started and the beautiful stallions strutted their stuff everyone was spell bound - they did about 5-6 different routines (long rein, short rein, if you really want to know) and the last routine was a 8-horse one called ´ballet of the white stallions´which was really amazing. Maybe I´ll get myself one of these horses!

Sunday morning I went for a mass service - at the HofburgKapelle. There are throngs who try and get tickets - yes one has to pay to attend the service - that is because the accompaniment is by the Vienna Boys Choir - the boys themselves are dressed in their trademark sailor´s dress and caps. Perhaps the most famous Boy band of them all ! They sang Mozart´s (who else) ´Requiem´and even though I didn´t understand a word of the service (it was in Deutsche), I really enjoyed that hour and a half.

What strikes me about this place (when compared to the UK, say) is how seriously people take the matter of their appearances. Even a visit to the local newspaper stand is an ocassion to take out one´s best jackets and coats and shoes......
Freud mesuem (the house where he stayed from 1898 to 1938) was a disappointment, but it was more than made up by a musical bathroom near the State Opera.

Well enough for today