And Outside The Rain Fell...

All classes for today stand cancelled. Group meet with at college for an assignment due next week! Sigh. Got my credit card. Used the Velib free cycle. I loved it.

Back in wonderful Paris.
Busy day. Classes all day. CAF filled. Good food, now in the college canteen.

Arriving into the University town of Koblenz, we were engulfed in thick fog all around. Students streamed in and out of the station, and we had a helping of Yoghurt and fruits to kick off morning.

Walking down into the streets looking for the Rhine, we came across some of the most elaborate graffiti I’ve witnessed on the walls of an underpass.

We could hardly spot the bank of the river amidst the fog, and expected the Rhine river cruise to be quite a lull if the fog did not lift. The cruise was to take us down the river Rhine to Rudelshiem. The journey onwards mostly was fog, until the sun suddenly peeped out around 11 and the beautiful countryside came out in its full splendour. The castles, small and originally intended to collect toll, were built by thieving barons and bishops, from what was then the busiest waterway in the world, now looked rather decrepit with time.

Eventually, the Rhine river ceased to be used for transport by the shipping companies due to the extremely high tolls by the feudal lords, which marked the beginning of their decline. Today, most of them own vineyards, acres of them, and almost all of them have ropeways to the top. Cruising along on this almost historic waterway was obscenely boring, except when the castles popped up in the hills dotting the river. The castles were beautiful, picture perfect with their gun turrets and their towers, their fortifications and vineyards all along the hill slopes. The little idyllic towns along the side were just that – little and idyllic, with an occasional church spire towering above in the sky. Too bad mist covered most of it for good photography. The cruise was at a snail's pace, and weirdly (Mondays being half price for senior citizens) we were surrounded by people over 65, the average age probably scrapping 75! Drifting off into sleep between the “ooooh” and “ammmphs” marking a new castle spotted; the cruise was, in retrospect fun.

The trouble began when we realized our cruise was late, we were misinformed about the timings, and more importantly, we might miss our connecting train to Paris. Being in Paris tomorrow was terribly important; we had classes we couldn't miss.

We reached Rudelshiem at 3.15, running about looking for the station. Spotting tracks by the river, we ran along it, eventually spotting a train at the station. Not wanting to go all around the entrance, the four of us jumped in tandem, spiked bars notwithstanding, across the fence, running across to the shutting train doors. The checker immediately opened the door again, and he did not understand a word of English. Life was harsh, and we did not know if the train would take us to Frankfurt. Our connecting train to Paris at 4.50 pm, and the next train out of this station at 4.10, we were doomed to miss this train. Hungry since morning, feeling wretched, tired, and without a way to get back to Paris, we tried every combination to get to Frankfurt in time. But the soonest we could get there was 5.40, far too late. Worse still, Tards would be catching the train from Frankfurt (and we were to join him there), his phone wasn't reachable and there was absolutely no way we could reach him.

Frustrated and looking for a way out, the only option was to get to Frankfurt and take the Paris train at 7.10, shelling out another 15 Euros and assuming the reservation counters remained open.

We did exactly that, again having to catch a connecting train to get to Frankfurt - this time under a minute (you can imagine it as a comedy - four chaps with heaving baggage, running madly across platforms, trying to get our legs in before the doors to the train closed. My pant too was falling off, so I had one hand on my belt, one on my bag, a jacket on my forearm, another bag on another forearm and a backpack at the back). Getting in just in time, we couldn't stop laughing at what was transpiring.

A perfect day gone all wrong.

Reaching Frankfurt at 5.40, navigating our way to the reservation counter and getting a Queue number of 27, we began designating duties- one hunts for vegetarian food, two guys stand for reservations, and another looks for alternate booking ways.

We heaved a sigh of relief when we got our reservations on the 7pm train, and feasted on huge Falafels at 3.50 Euros a piece. We met the rest of the ESCP gang in the same train, and the day finally was back to normal.

Only it had to get better. Tards messaged, we met the train ticket checker who had been informed of us missing our train and with a big smile sympathized with our situation. Watching the French SCNF(The French rail company) and the Deutsche Bahn(the German rail company) checkers discuss our predicament and decide to refund our 15 Euros was quite a sight. I sheepishly was murmuring Danke and Merci under the same breath.

Everything suddenly sorted out, we relaxed, caught up on lost conversations with others from ESCP and settled down comfortably into our ICE Train, cruising along at 180km/hr. I spoke to the people I love most, and drifted off to sleep yet again.

A mighty 4 day stubble, soiled clothes, unkempt hair and 12 days of unadultered madness. Eurotrip had begun in style. And how.

Munich!!! Oktoberfest. Yoo-hoo. Being a teetotaller, I have little idea why I am so excited to visit this beer fest in the centre of Bavarian Germany, but having now done so, I can say that Yoo-hoo all over again.

Reaching Munich at a comfortable 11pm, doing our routine searches (almost in order - search for Boingo, Luggage Lockers, City maps, tourist information centre and Subway - it reminds me of Hermione casting protective spells outside their tent while on exile). Doing the usual, we encountered a very rude Tourist information guide - a chap who spoke in monosyllables, pointed to a 0.3 euro map every time we asked a question and seemed to say, "Oktoberfest. Why bother with anything else". Walking a few hops across Munich and encountering tall, gothic bell towers, we reached the fest grounds. And oh, what festivities!

The entrance we took had super neurotic rides everywhere- being plunged from a 13 storey tower, having your body twisted and turned like you are in a washing machine or being hung upside down in a weird position several feet in the air, it made my heart skips several several beats. I wanted to be on them! But probably not now. Not now.

Next - water. We need water that did not cost 3.5 Euros to a litre, and walked around a little of Munich trying to figure out where we could. An evangelical charity came to our rescue finally, with the volunteers (who worked with people in Africa) allowing us to fill our bottles.

Our thirsts quenched, we returned to the fest. And that's when we encountered the "tents". Temples of debauchery, they would put Bacchus and Dionysus to shame, such was the revelry and merrymaking.

Sporting local beer brands, and each tent having its unique, distinctive charm, we hopped around, dancing to the loud German music, watching people go absolutely crazy with their kegs of beer. It is a place no mother would like her son to be at, but weirdly, I saw that entire families came here together. Grandfathers, father, sons, and their respective girls. They were all decked in traditional Bavarian clothes - knee length trousers strapped to the shoulders for men with white shirts and wacky caps. The women were in frocks with plunging necklines, their hair done in pig tails and a blush of red on their cheeks. It was a way of life here, much like our Dusshera or the Gujarthi Garba, an annual tradition of sorts.

Beer flowed in huge litre high tumblers, and a kind old family allowed us to watch the festivities from their table. And oh, what mirth! Even being teetotallers, we could join in the fun, humming to unknown german songs and dancing on chairs, getting photographed with complete strangers and watch people go totally "Talli". It was so crazy; I knew we had done the right thing taking this diversion to Munich.

Affection flew between couples, and it could get rather embarrassing even for us at times! Ha-ha. It was pseudo drunk love all around, what with old men flirting about with young girls.

The "temples" were decked completely in finery, and each different in its own way, probably reflecting the traditions of the brewery itself. With mascots as hungry lions or gremlins, stud horses or traditional German farmers, they all charmed in their own way. The massive tents were football field sized, with a few tables reserved for those who would pay a premium for being at their favourite brewery's tent, the rest filled with merry hoppers. Most came in huge groups, all dressed for the occasion and laughing and partying boisterously.

Leaving the crazy fun temporarily, and wanting to watch it once again at night, we headed back to station. We still had to decide what we were doing for the night- Munich was sold out, anything available would be far too expensive, all overnight international trains were full, and we could find absolutely no connection out for the night. Thankfully, Munich station never shut, and resigned to the pleasure of spending another night at the station, we grabbed our customary subway, and headed for the sub lines, which were now free! We went across to Marinetplatz, climbing the steep St. Peter's Church spire for a euro, getting a spectacular view of the city. Bells struck here at odd hours all day, sometimes in tandem, mostly not. Watching the setting sun, we could spot the Munich Olympic stadium, the Bayern München dome, several church spires and even the first lights from the Oktober fest.

Getting down again, we walked about a bit, covering fantastic unmarked buildings on the streets, got a fantastic bargain at Pizza Hut for their margarita pizzas (okay, I admit it, we shamelessly begged for a discount. The kind chap almost threw 40% off on the price!), and returned to the Station catching up with Josen and Rex from Wimwi. Both of them are always a pleasure being around with, and they gave us company to the October fest again, this time in lights. We soon crossed paths with what seemed like half of Wimwi - Ankur, Mohit, Abhiroop and Jhoomer, and we also let out our customary “ZigZag” tempo shouts there in the grounds. For once, we were the ones shouting. It felt good being back with Wimwi crowd, and another tent later, we took a walk around the park. Strewn with bits of glass and crazy drunk people, I knew I’d probably never come here again, but I loved the place while I was here, if it was only for the completely different experience.

Meanwhile, out of the blue, we made plans to head out to Koblenz for the night. We could at least spend the night in those fantastic ICE trains, and see a new place while we were at it. Heading back to station, we had apples, filled water and headed out to the platform to board our train.
Germany will be fun when we return. For now, settling the hopelessly complicated expense accounts and putting a tired exhausted body to sleep.

26.9
By the end of today, I had quite some difficulty in figuring what I did all day!

4 countries, 4 people, 3 trains and lots of sleep. We were moving away from Scandic Europe back to mainland, through a short stay over at Munich.

Oslo greeted us in the morning, with Baba joining us who was in apparently in the same train as ours since last night. Our first train was to leave to Goteberg in Sweden at 8.30 in the morning. Routing out the Subways in Goteberg early morning on the net, we set forth in a thoroughly uneventful journey, traversing the Nordic countryside deep in sleep after 10 days of country hopping. Breakfast was sandwiches and Marie biscuits, and we anticipated a yummy lunch at Goteberg.

Currency conversion in the Nord countries is always a pain, and doing so especially when you have less than an hour between connecting trains makes life rather painful. We picked up 4 12inch subs, boarding our next train to Copenhagan in Denmark. Having side seats to sit on, we feasted on our lunch, chatting about. Life seems so much different from the craze of first year, the work during internship and the good old CA Days.

Time passed quickly and we changed trains yet again from Copenhagan, boarding a train to Munich. We had made a countless changes over the last 10 days of our travel schedule, and in fact, we hardly had a concrete return trip planned before leaving. Just this morning, the plan was to spend a day at Goteberg, spend the night in a hostel and move through Sweden into France. Suddenly, we were reaching Germany the same night, and with completely different plans.

We now planned to see what all the fuss about the Oktoberfest was about, and we planned to do so from the heart of Bavarian Germany itself- Munich. Our train was to leave Copenhagen at 6.53 and the journey included an 8 kilometre journey under the sea! Next morning, Munich. Some more sleep beckons, as I write this staring at a 60 year old woman reading the New York Times with a 110 litre backpack (almost as big as me!) and her tent, sleeping bag propped against her. Wow. And night.

Today was a day when I was enveloped by nature.

Seldom does a day start immediately after the previous one ended, and here, by 6.30 am, we were boarding the train to Bergen, heading to Myrdal, from where we were to begin our fjord cruise.

Oslo to Bergen had been described by people we knew as the most scenic journey by train we would witness in all of Europe. And how!

Having slept until around 10, catching up on lost sleep, I woke up to scenes lifted straight from an LOTR description. Steep black mountains jutting out of the plains, its sides lined with trees in autumn bloom - every possible shade of yellow and green. The hills had a crystal clear river flowing by its side all through. Waking up to a sight like that, my first impression was that of an enormous giant, wearing a dark green fleece coat and a silver sheath by his side. The river meandered, filled to the brim, and looked icy to the touch.

A few miles on and the landscape completely changed, and effect was quite dramatic. In a few minutes, we were passing by snow capped mountains, with glacial river streams falling down by the sides. Thousands of water cascades fell by all sides, the effect mesmerizing.

The train chook-chooked away between crystal blue lakes, their frigid water lapping the banks as glacial cascades fell into them. To top it all, the person sitting next to us was the president of the Bergen-Oslo rail link himself, who spoke fondly of having recently celebrated the 100th year of operating the line, and was curious as to how we felt watching what we are. He gave us a beautiful rail calendar, a souvenir that is bound to create a lot of in-fighting unless we reach an amicable solution, that marked the Bergen-Oslo line through the seasons - the bright green spring from may, the orange hues and waterfalls of September, the frigid sheath of ice of January, the wonderful melting snow of April.

Opening the emergency windows, bitter cold wind streamed in as we passed tunnel after tunnel, some miles long, opening to exotic views of cascading waterfalls, snow caps and swiftly flowing rivers. I fell in love. It was absolutely paradise.

It soon started drizzling as we reached Myrdal- a little town straight out of a fantasy novel. A wood log cabin and a tiny cafe marked the station, and our dark green train from Myrdal to Flam stood on the other platform. Around us, rain drizzled down gently amidst bright green trees.

Buying tickets to our next line, this scenic one hour journey from Myrdal to Flam has been voted the most scenic train journey ever. An engineering marvel, it descended 800 metres to sea level cross a steep gradient and 20 tunnels, the largest 6 miles long. Wow.

Words are difficult to describe this journey, but here, we passed by truly what Norway was - shifting panoramas of thundering waterfalls and lush green vegetation, with rivers descending into the sea at Flam, Norway’s most exotic fjord cruise.

As the train descended into the valley, it stopped by at scenic spots for the shutter bugs to go crazy, and a stop at the mighty Kjosfossen falls was the hallmark of this journey. Churning down the hill with ferocity, billions of gallons of frothing, icy glacial water thundered down the valley, our train at a brilliant vantage point where the froth hit our faces hard and the mist rising up the hill drenched everything in sight. It was a sight to behold.

We passed by quaint towns with black roofed houses and waterfall after waterfall, eventually landing down to sea level at Flam. Here, the Sognefjord began, sea water coming back many hundreds of miles into deep crevices, with towering black mountains on both sides. Our cruise ship, the Fjord1 was to flow between this scenic journey to Gudvangen.

Standing on the deck, with icy cold wind blowing across my face and through my hair, this I felt was a moment that could not even be captured on film. And towering hills on both sides, with hundred of tiny rivulets crashing into the sea from the mile metre high mountains. You really must visit this someday.

Passing through incredibly narrow gorges through the canyon-like fjords, we were in Nærøfjord, the deepest arm of this fjord and perhaps the most dramatic one. We also came across the Undredal chapel, Scandinavia's tiniest church, which was a pleasure to watch. The serene two hour journey lulled me to a short nap in between, after which I went to the front deck, standing in the frigid cold air as evening bent on, munching on bread and carrot. Carrots are probably the most nutritious thing I’m eating on this journey.

Docking at Gudvangen, and out of Norwegian kroner for the next leg, the kind bus driver allowed us to get in, as we promised to pay her at Voss. It's the first time I’ve witnessed a lady driving a bus, and this Stalheimskleiva road trip twisted and turned through an incredibly narrow road offering views of several waterfalls. She drove with amazing dexterity! I was tired, and the one hour trip far too soothing to the eye, and nearly everyone on the bus fell asleep.

Landing at Voss and paying her in NKr and thanking her profusely, we walked around Voss, visiting the camping site (too expensive!). It was a beautiful town, a huge lake by its side, snow capped peaks around it and gentle rain falling down. We wanted to camp here for the night, but too expensive for us, we headed on the next train from Voss to Bergen, had a dinner there of Cup Noodles, “jugad-ing” boiling water from our store paying 2 kroner for a cup, had noodle sandwich and boarded the train back to Oslo at 11pm.

Technical problems meant that we had to switch from the train to a bus at Voss at 1 am in the night, and back to train at 4am, but little did it matter cause I was sleeping far too quickly and far too peacefully in practically seconds. There are even rumours that the buses were ferried across a lake in the night, but I was too dead tired to figure that bit out.


Another day gone by, and inevitably, every journey is now 24 hours of action packed adventure, and not just the customary 18. Next stop, Oslo. Phew.

Today. Extraordinary. That's the only word I can think of. Outrageous Oslo.

Oslo is a capital that possibly is the smallest capital city in the world. And for the capital of one of the most visited countries in the world, it has surprisingly little to offer. Perhaps not.

We started the day at Stockholm. This is my 7 countries so far in roughly 10 days. Germany, France, Belgium, Finland, Sweden, Norway and Denmark. And to think I was content and happy with the thought of being in India before IIMA happened. And staying here in Europe, I just realized how much I love India!

Starting at Stockholm, we left Stockholm University early morning to the station, again avoiding tickets and even picking up complementary bags offered by a book exhibition. The bags are going to be immense help here, and we get a banana and juices (a single banana costs 50 bucks in Scandinavian Europe. 200ml of Fruit juice is around 70 bucks). Living on the shoestring that we are, having some part of our breakfast sponsored made us think, wow, and a nice start to the day.

We board the Intercity Express, using our Eurail passes and flowing into Norway. And how. The entire 6 hour journey was dotted with at least a 1000 lakes, beautiful serene lakes, crystal clear water, flanked by tall windswept pine trees, the sun shimmering on the water. And the train dotted and curved alongside these lakes, until a mighty river came along that we followed for the rest of our journey. And to top it all, beautiful black tiled sloping roof houses dotted the countryside; the houses often nestled deep in the trees or on the lake banks.

We reached Oslo at 2.30p.m, did some painful conversions to Norwegian Kroner and finally landed up at the tourist information centre, picking up our customary maps.

The Oslo journey was to be completely on foot. Few capitals can boast of having a glorious medieval history, a sea shore and mountains dotting it all side like Oslo. We first hopped over to the adjoining Opera House, a marble and metal structure, shimmering in the blazing autumn sun. Cold wind blew across the adjoining sea, and the sloped terrace offered excellent vantage points of the city.

Hungry now, we began our walk to this place called Blitz. This neo-activist place was something we were totally unprepared for.

For starters, some facts- Oslo is the most expensive city on Earth, so claim the statistics. We needed food. Vegetarian food. And our travel guide recommended this place, Blitz.

Going to the road where this was supposed to be, we hardly could find the place. A bit of searching, a bit of asking later, we figured it was this totally unmarked white building with some graffiti on its walls. Entering, I encountered the weirdest people ever. Punk rock stars, tattooed arms, a million piercings and outrageous green and pink hair, they told us they were about to protest against the establishment in 15 minutes, so we should hurry with the cafe. They wanted us to join them- apparently a Pakistani national had been arrested. This only vegetarian cafe offered sandwiches, bread, coffee and juice at steal away prices- entirely volunteer run, they were now waiting to leave for the protest, drums and placards in hand.

Watching the goth punk people, we were half scared, thoroughly amused, and our stomachs partly full, we left to the city palace, admiring the armed guards patrol the area. Beautifully uniformed and walking in absolute sync, their batons and feathered caps, their black uniforms and white stripes immediately commanded respect.

The early evening atmosphere was rather insipid, with few people on the streets, no activity absolutely. What this gave us was little to observe except cars- from Saabs to Citroen, Volvo to Audi, and good old Mercedes, always designated to being a taxi here, as we walked along the roads from the City Palace to a landmark garden.

We next headed out to Vigeland's Sculpture Park, a landscaped park with pseudo erotic male, female and child sculptures depicting the various phases of life. It really was striking, watching those stone sculptures in fantastic poses against lush green trees, superb gardens and a lake passing underneath. We came across a huge tower of human bodies them, beautifully intertwined, flanked with humans in various postures- depicting, as I saw it, grace, power, solitude and the cycle of life. With the evening sun glowing on one side of the tower, the effect of light and shadows on the sculptures was mesmerizing. It's difficult to describe a moment when you just stand and stare in awe at human figures so beautifully carved. I stood there for several minutes, lost in thought, before proceeding to explore the rest of the garden, comfortably watching a gang of skateboarders performing stunts with the sun setting as a backdrop.

Early evening brought with it a cold chilly weather, and as always, hunger. We hunted for an Indian Restaurant- encountering several - Gandhi's India, Krishna's Cuisine and Gateway of India. Exorbitantly priced, we moved on to McD'S, unable to find a Subway, munching on cheese burgers. It was a bland dinner, but until we get to Paris, it satisfies. On an average, we are doing walking tours of European cities at the rate of at least 15 kilometres a day.

We walked, comfortably getting lost in the streets of Oslo. And the atmosphere of the city had changed in its entirety. Cars zipped by on roads, pretty pretty women wore their Friday night fineries heading to the nearest clubs, the buildings were wonderfully lit, and the posh shopping streets seemed alive.

Boisterous young chaps hung around pubs, and we could hardly believe it was the same city we were walking in in the morning. Street music rung through the roads - violens, flutes, even a tabla. Love was in the air, everywhere.

We stopped by often, breathing in the atmosphere of this new city.

At 9.30, we walked over to the royal castle, closed sometime earlier, which looked quite eerie in its solitude and strong halogens lights creating a wonderful collage of lights and shadows. As we loitered around, two royal guards found us, and told us we were not supposed to be there (I was waving a flashlight reading castle sign boards). They actually gave us a full escort to the gate, almost giving us a sense of royalty, with their heels clicking in unison and their hands swinging in tandem. Never once would I have imagined being escorted (out, but what the heck) by the guards of HM! Never.

We walked on exploring, tiring ourselves out. Finally heading to the station, where we would be spending the night in peace, waking up for a 6.30 train to the fjords.

I found internet access at the station, and made good use of it.

But little did we know this would the most exciting European night we had as yet experienced.

At 1.30 a.m., an announcement rung that the station would now close and open again at 4.30 a.m. cursing under our breath, we asked the Politi (police) where we were to spend the night. He gladly suggested the streets!

Outside, on the streets, the three of us contemplated several options. The stairs and the benches around the station were far too cold, with an icy gust blowing across. Realizing the open space around the station was far too open; we realized the only other option at that hour of the night was to spend the rest of the 3 hours walking the streets of Oslo.

And we were in such a shock. The only street that was alive was full of punk BOYS and girls, sporting weird tattoos, hairdos and terribly drunk. The cold hit us hard, and if things couldn't get worse, some kind of a police case occurred right where we were standing. Few cafes were open, the ones that were seemed too shady. And the only road that wasn't deserted was.. it was lined with hookers.

In retrospect, and to be honest, we were scared. 3 hours in an unknown city with what seemed like an aggressive crowd can never be funny.

We needed a refuge, and shuttled between the station and that road, and finally decided we were going to spend the night in... hold your breath, a Seven Eleven(7-11). We explained our situation for this 24 hour open store, and he allowed us to stay the night there. The problem was there were no chairs, the store was the size of an average bedroom, and it was stacked with goods. It was the safest place we could find that night, and as things go, it was popular with the punks too.

From then on, it got amusing. Not one character we saw seemed what may be described as normal- gay youth in a merry mood, hookers with their customers, policemen, and drunk men, they all dropped in and out. And the three of us, standing in one corner of the store, blessed the cashier attendant for allowing us that comfort of the store- it was warm, and I had internet. And terrible company.

Standing continuously for 3 hours, we were tired, miserable and bored. We ran for our lives to station the moment the clock struck 4.15 am, thanking the cashier for his asylum.

Dead tired, we crashed at the station, the other two sleeping and I writing this.

This was an experience liked no other.

Thinking back, there was nothing at all to be scared off, we were three guys, not once did anyone threaten us or was aggressive, cops were all around us because we were at the scene of a crime, the we were at least warm. Still, I knew I would never want to experience this again, doing all this in a totally unknown city, with almost no one you could rely upon; it scared us at one point.

I guess it is all part of the great European experience. It is 6.30 now, the train to Myrdal is about to leave.

Love, peace, tranquillity, and stay warm.

Stockholm again, waking up in the ferry docking at 6 am, counting crows over time zones and getting 5 people to check out of the deck. It was now much colder, much cloudier than we had last been here. Contemplating the 6-7 km walk up to the Central Station gave me quite the shivers. I had almost got down to asking for a hike, and in retrospect, I should have. I mean, what the heck, what could possibly have gone wrong?

We took the long long walk – a heavy backpack, a bottle of water and a winter coat, my uber cool muffler along with ear pads – and I was all set to go. Walking across highways, cross roads, waiting for endless pedestrian signals to turn green and a growling stomach, more cross roads, more avenues, more signals – we trudged along. We had our first pit-stop at this beautiful park, and resting for a while, Patwaji came up with this stupid silly step-counting game, and as much as I hated the game, it was fun! We shared a “chota” pack of Parle-G on the way, arriving at Central station, heaving, our calves begging for rest.

Picking up a relatively underpriced coffee latte at Burger King, which was surprisingly very refreshing, we all headed to the Subway, getting an awesome bargain deal there. We did some “jugad” with the ketchup (a Sub just doesn’t taste good with Ketchup, and no one seems to stock Ketchup here!). We walked all around the city, admiring moored yachts, sail boats (including one called the Black Pearl), pretty pretty woman, fast cars and rip-off bike rentals. We walked across the Seansen bridge, and it was suddenly as though we are in an entirely different part of Sweden – the majestic Nordiska Museet (Nordic Museum) greeting us at the entrance of this royal park – the Djurharden. This museum was housed in this massive castle, and we were pleasantly surprised when we discovered that the museum would be free that day after 4 p.m. Every 6 Euros saved is another Sub, and we were more than glad to come back later knocking at its doors.

Our next stop – Skansen. A huge, huge open air museum, this giant spread across an entire hill, a miniature Sweden, Sweden at its best, almost a theme park. Skansen housed everything that was Swedish, in fact, everything Nordic, from homes of the Nomadic Sami tribes to ancient Finn houses, from exotic animals from the Tundra belt to glass blowing shops – everything here was wonderfully recreated, overlooking the city of Stockholm.

Walking across cobblestoned paths to live size Swedish Manor houses painted red – their exotic tiled black sloping roofs and the gardens flanking it; climbing bell towers and watching a tiny stream lazily drift by the entire length of the park – the entire effect was surreal, surprisingly soothing. The Europe you would dream about, the Europe you would see in movies.

I also met this Sami lady – Morit, who explained the ways of their people, of their indigenous traditions and their ancestral nomadic culture. Following reindeers, rearing them, living in a hut made of many poles that kept the cold away in winters and the insides warm, with chutes for smoke to go out without snow falling in. It was brilliant, their ways humble, and completely interloped with nature.

We walked across to the most exotic zoo I’ve witnessed yet – reindeers and brown bears, elks and grey owls – housed in habitats that were painstakingly recreated to match that of their wild cousins’. Having walked at least 18 kilometres from dawn, we were now terribly tired, crossing miniature market place, ancient chapels and windmills, many summer farmsteads, watching old carpenters and a live glass blowing unit from up close. We witnessed molten sand being converted to beautiful globes of gold, in innumerable colours, shapes, designs and contours. As evening drew on, it grew far colder, and having experienced much colder temperatures up north, we were here without jackets, shivering and exposing ourselves to every bit of the sun before it set for the day.

Out of Skansen, we visited the massive Vasa museum – Vasa – a 17th century sail galley that sunk an hour after its first sail. Much commemorated during its time for its might and the power it would bring to the Swede navy, it sunk off the cost of Stockholm to the bottom of the Saltsjon Sea. Miraculously lifted in 1961 – 333 years after it first sunk, the Vasa is now preserved in a museum that is more engineering than history, 500 sensor points that constantly map every sign of decay, the massive ship standing tall in the museums main hall, with galleries of artefacts and recreations all around.

Magnificent.

Old wood, the structure almost the size of a football field, most of the guns and turrets still intact, flanked with wooden busts of ferocious lions, Roman gods and ancient mythological creatures, it seems every bit of the Vasa was built to invoke fear in the enemy. Only one tiny detail went wrong, the hull was apparently badly conceived, and top heavy, the ship could not withstand the winds it encountered. The artifacts built for the museum are mindboggling – from movies to huge huge globes, from a reconstruction of the entire deck to recreating the faces of those who were then on board, this museum was so much science, so much art, history, Nordic geography and politics - all packed into one brilliant entertainer, all coming together as the Vasa.

Bansi, who had joined us for this museum, had to leave then so that she could shop for us. The four of went to the Nordisk Museet – we had a good 45 minutes before the museum closed, and we wished to make the most of what we were getting for “gratuit”.

The museum was accompanied by a superb audio guide, and although the museum claimed to be a Nordic museum, it was entirely about Swedish culture – its progression through the ages.

We finally took the long walk back to the Central Station, the weather now extremely chilly, reaching Bansi’s home dead tired. And bless her, for she had a steaming hot meal ready for us –Pasta, French fries and Rasam rice, a weird but utterly delicious combination for 4 starved vegetarians in Stockholm.

Hit the sack. Period.

Another day. Now, Europe seems almost paradisiacal. Almost, if only we could water for free. Sigh.

Today, we are at Turku, a rather medieval town on the eastern coast of Finland. Although amongst its oldest cities, very little of Turku really was old, except probably the name. Turku apparently is an archipelago of 15,000 islands!!

We were to be joined by Pissu and Kidu, who were coming in from Helsinki. Pissu always is splendid company, and I was quite looking forward to meeting him. Waiting for half an hour for their arrival, and feasting on a single apple for breakfast, we, as has now become almost a routine, headed to the tourist information centre – exploring the city using a map with Patwa at the lead.

Soon after, we crossed a bridge to visit the pseudo ancient cathedral, with beautiful white arches and some of the most spectacular stained glass windows I have seen in Europe. The atrium also had a painting of the last supper, and it was the first time I actually witnessed an organ playing live at a church. The feeling invoked melancholy for some reason, with the heavy bass and the long notes. Also, the chrome and gold plated tubes looked brilliant, reflecting the low church lights. The church also had beautiful arches, high and white, giving the church a very airy feel, something quite surprising for a cathedral.

We next stopped by a little, picking up snacks, before proceeding to pick up cycles, only to find the shop close. This was something we all really wanted to do, to do a cycling tour of a European city, and this was as good an opportunity as another. A couple of quick calls later, a man rode up, opening up his shop to allow us to choose our cycles. I picked up a beautiful red cycle – a Tunturi, with a silver blue helmet and some of the best gears in a cycle that I have seen. I loved the bike on first sight, and she was to be my companion for the day. And oh, how we fell in love! And she was quite a bargain at 4.25 Euros for 5 hours (by European standards, that is).

Riding along the riverside, flanked by beautiful moored ships and yachts, I was enjoying every moment of the ride, especially since nearly all of Europe has dedicated bike tracks, and vehicle traffic almost makes way for cycles when they see one. Riding on gravel tracks along the river, we stopped by every so often to click photographs, do a few skids or just go in circles in glee. I was happy to ride a bike for so long, and a cycle this good deserved more than just a few pictures.

We then headed to Turku Castle, a large castle with a rather “un-anaesthetic” facade. Huge interiors with high vaulted arches, the castle had little to offer by itself. The only thing that interested me was an Indian tourist contingent that was rather happy to see fellow Indians there. The castle had a museum that was expensive (4 Euros) and thoroughly boring. The feeling was unanimous – we would rather cycle around town than spend time there. Our Indian fortresses are far more interesting. However, I’ve heard so much about the German and French castles and am excited to go there.

I headed back to city centre, filling my growling stomach with a foot-long sub. Ah. It was sumptuous. Energised, we next headed to a small island off the main coast. Ruissalo – this was Finn countryside at its best, beautiful, untouched, pure, pristine, fresh and surrounded by water. A gruelling 8 kilometres away, the bike ride criss-crossed with the highway, crossing the harbour and finally, over a bridge into some of the most beautiful cycle tracks I have seen yet. With Pissu around, and with so much to catch up on, there was never a dull moment around. We drove unchartered, eventually stopping over at a wooden platform jutting out into the bay – to be greeted a wonderful view of the sea, the flush greenery and the city. Prits, Bansi and Tardi stopped over here, and the rest of went ahead further, into the wild. We were delighted to see a hydro-boat there, moored by the bay. The four of us clicked many snaps in with it, before heading out further by vast green acres, to cycle down to a sandy beach with hundreds of seagulls perched in content glory on it. Pissu tried to shoo them away on his cycle, and I half expected them to come back down, pecking at him for disturbing their peace. It was hilarious watching Pissu charging down at them on the beach.

The ride back to the wooden platform was delightful, with Pissu sharing what was to be a quite a revelation to me! Haha. The genius! The ride got even more interesting with gentle, cold rain beating down our backs, and my tired calves begged for rest even as my charmer of a bike egged me on. A long ride later, we reached Turku city, did the usual grocery shopping, dropped away the bikes ( I hardly wanted to leave it) and headed to the station picking up our bags and to the harbour where we were to pick up the cruise to Stockholm.

On board the Siljia Europa, a much smaller cruise ship, we had sandwiches, cup noodles and watched Friends to end the night in peace, and much needed rest for our aching bodies.

A quaint, beautiful day well finished.

Rovaniemi. Lapland. The Arctic Circle. To visit 66º 32’ N latitude was something unthinkable just a few months back. To do it was unbelievable. We landed in Rovaniemi, expecting it to be frigid. Surprisingly, it was rather pleasant, bright, sunny.

There was something incredibly romantic about the place, about Lapland, about the trains we were travelling in, the awesome wilderness and the way nature was interlinked with people’s lives, the tundra forests and miles and miles of pine trees all around. The clear blue skies and air that air that actually did not smell of tobacco and gasoline.

This is something I’ve now almost begun to expect from Nordic Autumns, pleasantly cold (10º to 12º C) and very sunny. The warmth of the sun is actually pleasant, and you’d look for sunny spots to stand in.

Dumping our bags in lockers, we picked up maps, navigating to the tourist information centre. A delightful old lady greeted us there, giving us brochures, nice carry bags and enough information to pass off the day. She even filled our bottles with water (which rather unusually is hard to find unless you’d like to buy bottles).

I heard Colbie Caillat’s Bubbly outside on the pavement, and it immediately brought about a smile, for several reasons. We walked across the road to a scenic river flowing across this quaint little town. It had a suspension bridge across the river, flanked by yellow trees in autumn bloom on both sides, the water lapping against a pebbly bank gently. Sitting there, feeling in the atmosphere, the atmosphere of a little town wrapped in nature’s sunny embrace, the last one before a white blanket spreads across the town, shrouding it in snow. We were probably not at the best time of the year, but the place was ruddy beautiful.

We boarded the Santa Claus Express, the bus from Rovaniemi to the Arctic Circle – this bus was delightfully coloured, in a way a kid would imagine the mythical express taking him to Santa’s Land. I, shamelessly, didn’t mind being that kid at all. It had a “Christmas-y” feel to it, especially since Bansi and me were singing Jingle Bells at the bus stop.

Santa greeted us at the Arctic Circle in his very own village. Apparently, the place is a sight to behold in the dead of the winters. Even otherwise, in Autumn, this cobblestoned town, with little houses marking the different buildings of the village gave it the feel of being a theme park.

Crossing the Arctic Circle, which passes over the town was a momentous feeling, the feeling that you’ve done something so few others have done. I would love to go further North later in the trip, but not right now.

We met the grand old man himself, Santa! Every bit the way I imagined his house to be, we also came across the machine that is supposed to make the earth rotate.

Many photo-sessions later, including a paid one with Santa which was far too expensive for us to afford it, we had a small picnic amidst tall pine trees. Santa’s village is apparently very popular, and I even saw a super cool photograph of the Finn band Lordi with him. Peace.

Returning to the city, hungry and famished, we headed to Subway, eating a superbly delicious sub each. A lot more relaxed now, with our thirsts quenched and tummies full (never thought these things we’ve always taken for granted would be such a pain), we headed towards the city church, a Russian Lutheran church, almost entirely made of wood and very typical small-town. The walk through the church cemetery, walking across the epitaphs of what seemed like a war memorial was an awefully pretty, yet in a way, saddening sight.

We always take our time at places, skipping “must-visits” rather than hurrying through everything at once, relaxing, sitting around, walking the cities – that really to me is what a vacation is. To do this for three months would just be perfect. I miss people back home, friends who I used to call and chat with at whim, eating spicy food that didn’t cost a bomb, studying. This is a wonderful experience, but I’m glad I’ll be going back to the life I lived in 3 months. Till then, woo-hoo!

We walked across meadows, frequently stopping over to see toadstools (which were everywhere here, in all colours, all shapes, all sizes, growing amidst the grass), it reminded me of Sylvia Plath’s Mushrooms – amongst my favourite-st piece of poetry.

The town had very little to offer, but the feel of a small town, with a little river flowing by, quiet citizens disappearing into their homes by duskfall, we were all rather glad to just lap it up without doing much.

A wonderful day well spent, we boarded the train to Turku, tired, exhausted but superbly content.

Edit: Will keep posting soon. Keep checking below! Photograph edits later.

Holidaying in Finland. Absolutely beautiful. Will post detailed entries around 28-29th.

In the heartland of Nordic Europe, Finland, finally. Getting off our huge Siljia Cruise, we were greeted by a brimming, sunny Helsinki, with its de facto symbol, the pearl white Cathedral, looming large over the city. The city overlooked the vast harbour, and to watch the yachts and ocean liners flow into them makes you realize how everything to do with Helsinki has something to do with water or the sea.



8tanyac, the super cool pseudo-Russian friend from WIMWI, was supposed to meet us at the port, but she didn't. As luck would have it, we didn't have her number and had absolutely no way of reaching her. Giving up, we decided to walk towards the city centre on our own, when suddenly this chick walks up the promenade, all bright and smiling, saying "Pooooooooch!".



She was to be our tour guide for the day, and poor Patwa, who was doing an absolutely fantastic job with the map so far, had to take a backseat. We visited an orthodox red bricked church first, with a tall blue spire. This church, overlooking the sea, was nestled in the most delightful of surroundings, green meadows and hundreds of green, lush green maple trees. It almost seemed like autumn had skipped Finland.



People love their dogs here, and i saw a couple playing with their dogs, almost 10 to 12 of them of these meadows. The Scandinavians so far seemed to live an unusually relaxed life, taking their time to enjoy the scenic beauty around them, the markets closing at 5, and nearly everyone outdoors.



We lugged on with our backpacks in tow towards the Central Station, stopping over at ornate fountain squares and for exotic cars (The Ferrari still eluded me though). Dumping backpacks at the station (4 Euros), 8tanyac took us to the Parliament building, mighty pillars and an imposing facade, this neo-modern building imposed heavily on the street, standing out with its solidarity and size.



From time to time, pretty flowers in the gardens excited the macro-photographers amongst us, I personally do not like plain macros of flowers and the like too much (don't hold me on to this one though)



Tarsi and Bandi posed for several photographs together, and the 4 of us urged them to pose more and more as couples do, all mushy et al, Shameless and brazen as I am, at my requests, the two always just smiled on, never for once making the rest of us feel awkward or unwanted. Hats off to them, a perfect pair totally.



Now, Boondiii, next in line, shameless as he is, still hasn't called his girl from Europe, or so he claims. Sigh. And lol. Commonly known as ‘budhao’, ‘Uncle’ and ‘loadu’, this lad is the comedian of the group, with his sharp wit about him, and almost blunt rebuttals leaving us all speechless and smiling.



I noticed the Europeans used every form of transport, super cars that zipped along at 200km/hr, super fast bikes, umpteen cycles, roller blades, skateboards, Segways, Nordic poles, even shoes which had little wheels where the sole should be, and of course, what seems like their favourite- walking.



We then retraced our steps to the town centre. Town centres are a pleasure to visit, bustling with activity, from exhibitions (Pablo Picasso) to live musicians.



By then, starving, our guide offered to take us to the "UniCafe", which to our disappointment was closed. We searched on, finding for ourselves a food court in a mall, and were delighted to find our yummiest vegetarian meal yet.



The salesman, a tremendous seller, offered us falafels - bread with some kind of pulse cutlet, an assortment of greens and ketchup. The chillies, tomatoes, cucumbers and cabbage were extremely juicy, very very delicious. He offered us all this for 5.5 Euros, topping it with awesome cappuccino, jugs of water (very expensive otherwise) and a 10% discount. He was a funny man, and kept repeating "for you, I give discount", with hand signs as if he's slicing off our throats. We could only bless this man for the sumptuous meal he had to offer us, after miles of walking around hungry.



We visited the pearl white Cathedral next, the Tuomiokirkko, which unfortunately was shrouded in scaffolding due to maintenance work. A beautiful church, I’ll let the pictures talk. To me, the highlight of this church was the enormous organ pipe, gold, silver and copper beautifully settling together to make up the ornate instrument. Statues of Martin Luther stood inside the church, and the interiors reflect the simplicity of the reformation of the church at those times.



Tanya soon took leave, and the rest of us proceeded to Suomenlinna, a sea fortress which was a ferry ride away.



I was on a call with mum and dad for the first 5 minutes, and strange as it was, I did not notice anything at all around me while I was speaking, so engrossed was I in their talks. Imagine my surprise then to find myself in the middle of a beautiful fortress wall at the end of the call, almost suddenly and out of nowhere.



What followed was perhaps the most beautiful part of Nordic Europe we had seen, nature at its pristine best, wooden bridges, sail boats, old fortress and tunnels, cobbled roads and sweeping views of the sea, the island had it all.



The leaves glowed green and red here, and the tomb of Gustaf III, a king who apparently died defending this country, before it fell to the Russians. His tomb was beautifully encased as a boat, capped with a copper shield, helmet and sword it was beautiful. Suomenlinna itself was constructed as a fortress by Sweden, defending Finland against the Russians, until it eventually fell to them.



Walking across meadows, true countryside heather, we reached a clearing, opening out to the sea. The wind here was gusty, and with the sun beating down on us, it is now a moment imprinted in my head, clear and unforgettable. The Finn countryside here was dotted with benches, with waves below crashing on to the rocky stones out at sea. We came across ancient cannons, and at one amusing instant, PritS was butting his head in one of them for some reason, insisting for a photograph.



We left the place soon, boarding our train to Roveniemi, towards the north of Finland, to Santa Claus land!

Stockholm. Finally. The satisfaction of reaching this place was immense. Getting up to the last few drops of water in the morning at 6 am, I folded up my jacket and blanket on which I’d spend the night, rather comfortably, crouched across 2 seats. The realization was now creeping in, I was actually backpacking across Europe, with little planning done and a lot of enthusiasm.

Bansi came to pick us up, and we were all immensely happy to see her. Bansi and Tardi make a great couple, and when she first saw Tardi, her smile said it all.

Switching to the metro, we went to the University Station, her hostel block a few hundred metres away from there. Wide roads bordered with sprawling meadows (including woolly cows that looked absolutely dazed), few cars and nearly no people around. Bansi’s room was cosy with a beautiful view overlooking tall coniferous trees and lush green meadows.


Bansi actually treated us to bread and baked beans(which PritS loves), and, as Barney would say it, wait-for-it.... idlis!!!

Rava idlis in Stockholm, I was already loving Stockholm, and bless Bansi for providing the ultimate feast to a pseudo-south-Indian.

It was Bansi’s turn in the dorm to clean the kitchen, and we all pitched in to mop floors, do the dishes, dust the cutlery and pans. It’s all brilliant, learning the ropes, doing things you’d never imagined you would do in a totally new country.


Bansi guided us to a nearby cove, very close to the apartment, and it was breathtaking, to say the least. She was to join us soon, and we walked there trying to find our way there. Stopping by at a children’s play park, PritS and me were see-sawing on a pseudo-swing that resembled a wooden log.






Walking further, amidst huge trees flanked by meadows and a road passing through it, you may want to imagine our delight in finding a beautiful inlet of water, coming up from I think is the sea. We were greeted there by two huge Alaskan wolves with a lady walking them. We took turns petting the dogs, and they seemed to bask in the attention we were giving them.



Photographing along the banks of the cove and watching the numerous contrails criss-crossing the sky, as crystal clear water lapped the bank.


Walking back, Bansi took us to Gamla Stan (old town), one of the most beautiful cities I’ve witnessed yet – saffron and terra coated buildings comfortably mingling with deep blue water and a skyline dotted with towering church spires. The lanes were all cobblestoned, flanked with historic buildings on one side and several open air cafeteria, ice cream parlours and souvenir shops on the other. We could see several Indians around, sharing a familiar smile with them in a completely unfamiliar country. My first impression of Gamla Stan was old buildings that almost seemed to fall onto each other, separated by narrow, almost claustrophobia-inducing roads and bright orange buildings.






We walked by the Riddarholmskyrkan Cathedral next, where the Swedish royalty is buried. Its central tower rose several feet into the air, made of wrought iron and giving it almost an eerie feeling. Made of red bricks, Bansi told us this church had been burnt down and rebuilt several times, almost of all them accidental fires. Standing tall against a background of aircraft contrails, staring into the tower gave an awe-inspiring feeling, of the might of the bygone Swede kings and what they all ended up being. Philosophical? Almost. Too bad it was closed from September to May. Nevertheless, it was reputedly the only church that has charged believers and non believers for entry – for the past 200 years!



A statue of Gustaf III brought about a huge smile on my face; the mighty kind shared my name(well, my chosen moniker for Europe). Lucky him. To all the Gustavs and Gauravs of the world, lucky you.

Walking around, we went about the garden of the former Parliament, Riddarhuset, also called the House of Nobility, a pretty building with an ornamental and neatly laid out garden, with huge conical trees. Walking around souvenir shops and checking coffee prices, we reached the Palace of the Royals, Kungliga Slottet, the entrance of which was an impressive building with a baroque facade, lined with several French windows, surrounding a huge cobblestoned courtyard.

Smartly dressed marine guards in blue suits, a glistening rifle and baggy green berets stood guard to the palace, with remarkable stillness when they were not patrolling the palace. Oops, almost forgot. Today was the first time I spent money on something non-essential – and what better than icecream to do the honours.

We witnessed the Change of Guards ceremony. It wasn’t too elaborate, but their performance against the facade of the royal palace, amidst ancient howitzers and the near circular courtyard made it look imposing. The marine band however took the show away with their performance, with the xylophone being one of the favourite instruments I witnessed today.





PritS then introduced us to his delightful friend Naina, who walked us around the commercial districts of Stockholm, skipping the tiny maze of cobbled streets for the frenzy of localities basking about in the last few days of bright sunshine. She was familiar with the places, loaned me a few Kroners for my souvenir, grabbed a huge glass of coffee and seemed all chirpy and happy!



We returned to Bansi’s place soon, and promising to come back soon, took off soon for our ocean cruise to Helsinki, Finland. The first sight of the cruise ship – huge, mammoth, gigantic, big! Picture perfect, it was one of those cruise liners I always wished I’d travel in some day. We were welcomed on board by enthusiastic attendants, who positioned themselves (with their quirky smiles) at the entrance, clicking photographs of passengers boarding the ship. Walking through the labyrinths of corridors and what seemed like an entire mall inside the cruise, we immediately dumped our bags into our sea facing cabins, and rushed up to the deck, to wave a goodbye to Stockholm. Atleast for now.




Standing on the deck, the wind blowing across the face, and deep blue water frothing by the sides of the ship steaming through it, it inevitably, pardon the cliché, reminded me of the Titanic.



We could spot beautiful little houses housed on the many little islands that formed past of Stockholm’s coastline. Most houses looked like summer homes of rich people who could afford them – coloured nearly always in a distant shade of red, and black tiled roofs, surrounded by lush coniferous trees. It was a sight meant to be enjoyed.

Chatting about on the deck for long, we went down to the Promenade after watching the sun set over the horizon.







Greeted almost immediately by a live Swede-Finn singer, we walked from shop to shop, checking out expensive perfumes (Boss, Gucci, Bulgari, Burberry), casinos, pubs and restaurants. The sauna above also looked attractive, but we decided to give it a skip.


I have also finally begun to think of things in Euros, don’t find the need to convert constantly to INR. The thumb-rule: anything below 1 Euro is inexpensive.

We witnessed a performance by superb circus artists – with a knack for getting the attention of what I would have assumed to be the rich and snooty crowd. They also gladly posed for the shutterbugs, myself included.


We returned to our cabins to enjoy the cold dinner of baked beans and bread, which still was sumptuous. Bansi slept away immediately after dinner, while the 4 of us crept around, watching old folks dance to retro music in the ballroom. The night culminated in the moonlight club, where karaoke night enthralled the local audience for hours before actually clubbing began. By this time time, I could hardly keep my eyes open, falling asleep even while walking.

Somewhere, reading back, I know that they way I’ve described the things I’ve saw does not do justice to the magnificence and grandeur of the sights, but I’ve done my best. Now, all prepared for Helsinki. Over and Out.

P.S. I take credit for many of the photographs on this blog, although not all. Several of them are PritS', a wonderful abstract photograph, with a knack for observing things everyone else misses.

As things were meant to be, we are finally on our first leg of Eurotrip. Yeah, say it with me, “Yippee”. Feels good, doesn’t it?

Paying some 35 Euros for the super fast (300 km/hr) Thalys from Paris to Cologne (in Germany), it was a smooth journey, with little to report from the countryside except for towering church spires, many flat bladed wind turbines and endless meadows (especially on the German side). A brief stopover at Brussels later, we reach Cologne, site of my “favourite-st” building on Planet Earth. Being the bit of the brat that I am, I refused to get inside the Cathedral in the one hour transit period that we had, and instead, all we did was admire the imposing Gothic facade. Beautiful, but I’d describe it on a later date because this is not what this trip was intended to be about.

Boarding another train, the Regio DB from Cologne to Hamburg, we were surprised when an ancient carriage lugged into the station, with almost no markings signifying which coach is which. Armed with reserved tickets (that cost us 3 Euros each), we were determined to get our seats. Shocked, and to our dismay, we found out that the train was infact completely unreserved. We were ripped off our 12 Euros. Sigh.

Some clever thinking later, we all got seats in different corners of the same coach, comfortable coaches, but now few things compare to the Thalys. When the ticket checker finally did come around, I convinced her to cancel our reservations (instead of demanding seats) and got ourselves a refund of the money we paid! Cologne to Hamburg, for free!

Drowsy and rather bored, I drifted off to sleep soon. I woke up to the sound of a few kids quarrelling about, and the seat opposite me was now occupied by a Mom and her 3 kids. A pair of twins with clear blue eyes, and a cute elder sister, they were playing about, talking in German, occasionally casting curious glances at the non-German me, and passing off shy smiles. By the end, one kid and I started to make faces at each other. Try imagine me doing that for a moment with a six year old kid and you’ll understand why the mom burst out laughing loudly!

Switching trains at Hamburg, we got into the ICE 2112 (InterCity Express). Seldom does one travel on trains that are more sophisticated than airplanes, but this one was, complete with an audio entertainment system, revolving bedroom sized washrooms and automatic doors. Little did we realize that this would become the norm soon. The journey, comfortably paced at around 5 hours, was scheduled to reach Copenhagen at around 10 p.m.

A 3 hour ride later, while I was on a call, the train lugged into what looked like a station that was completely walled. I saw a hurried rush of passengers getting out of the train, including PritS and Tards. Confused, I followed out, expecting it to be safety drill.
Imagine my surprise when I climbed what appeared to be a station to find myself on the deck of a ship! My train was in the belly of a ship, whole and complete!

Take a deep breath and read that again. The possibility of an entire train fitting into a ship, and suddenly setting sail on a luxurious cruise liner was unbelievable. This short journey from Mainland to Denmark was on a ship, and our train journey was to continue from there on. And all this for just a 3 Euro ticket. I loved it. Absolutely.

Armed with a thin tee and a muffler, for in the delirious state that I was in, I had left my winter coat in the train. We climbed on to the deck to face an icy cold wind shooting through our spine. We were on board the Scandiline, a huge, 5 star ferry. Watching the sunset from the starboard, and extremely cute couple from our train coach took a photograph for us. Scandinavians so far have been extremely polite.

It is difficult to explain the scene I was witnessing. Frigid seas, a gigantic ocean liner, shops selling luxurious designer brands in the ship’s promenade, my train in the belly of a ship, a shimmering orange sunset, cold wispy air and very thinly clad for the weather, all I could let out was a fumbled “wow”. It was beautiful, to see those wind turbines on the coast, frothy water on all sides and the feeling of being on a ship – completely unexpected.

We love the half ride completely.

At Copenhagen, we had precious few minutes to decide what we were to do next. Head to Malmo, spend the night at the station here and proceed to Stockholm next morning. Or spend the night in Copenhagen and go to Stockholm next morning. Unable to find the tourist office, we rushed to the DBS train counters to enquire about tickets. It was hilarious, in retrospect :
PritS: Sir, do you speak English?
Gentleman in Grey: (fluently) Yes, I do speak English.
PritS: We wanted to go to Stockholm.
GiG: When?
PritS: Today or Tomorrow.
GiG: Your train leaves in 2 minutes from Station 4.
PritS: (Something about tomorrow morning’s train)
GiG: Your train leaves in a minute and a half from Station 4.
PritS: (Something about Eurail passes)
GiG: (Completely unfazed, almost bored) One minute if you want to go to Stockholm.

The rest of us almost dragged PritS to Station 4, to see the train from Malmo lugging in. Ticketless, for we were refused reservation, we got in with the “Jo hoga, baad main dekha jayega” – Dad’s philosophy.
A superb train again, we were curious if we would be fined and thrown out for being ticketless. An awesomely sweet ticket checker quickly checked our Eurail passes, and deciding that this journey indeed was free, dished out valuable information on our connecting train to Stockholm from Malmo (which would be at a 5 minute gap). Thank her profusely, and blessing the Scandinavians for being so polite and going out of their way to help people, we got out at Malmo.

Here, another dilemma we faced was if we could board a sleeper night train without reservation. When you are new to a country, an entire continent infact, and have done little research, everything worries you.

Dad’s philosophy again, we boarded the train, sitting in the last coach, a chair car. Finding ourselves an unoccupied cabin, and with a what-the-heck attitude, we sat there, dumping our heavy backpacks.

Before I continue, let me retrace a bit to explain that by this time, our throats were burnt dry due to lack of water (too expensive everywhere, and too little time to find public drinking water booth, what with all that running around).
Continuing, once aboard, we sat in this cabin, the only one in the entire coach, drawing curtains, waiting for the train to start moving. Once it did begin, PritS and I decided we needed water, and quick! Finding a ticket checker in the adjacent sleeper coach, we asked him for water and the polite man said, with a thick Nordic accent, “But in Sweden, you must carry your own water!”.

Explaining a little about us having been travelling since morning, traversing several thousands of miles from Paris and switching trains in record time, we said bye bye returning to our cabins.

A few moments later, this chap comes, asks for our tickets, entering in an almost hilarious hop-skip-jump movement, saying “Hungry and thirsty, can I have your tickets please?”.

Approving the passes we were carrying, he walked away, safely drawing curtains and shutting the cabin on his way out. He somehow brought a smile on our tired faces.

Resigned to our thirst, we decided we had no option but to got sleep thirsty and miserable. Patwaji handed out candys (Ravalgaon) to help sooth our thirsts, and we decided the best we could do was to sleep.

Imagine our surprise when the same gentleman returned with four cartons of water for us, offering a broad smile and leaving without saying another word, as if embarrassed with his own generosity. I loved these guys, and the feeling was unanimous.

Our thirsts quenched, I sit here under this reading lamp, scribbling away on a borrowed notepad, my memory still fresh. For tomorrow is another day, another adventure. 5 countries covered in a single day, and tired, I drift away to sleep.

Day 4- Wow. Just that word.

Waking up in darkness and to the sound of Patwa asking me to call my landlady, I spoke in a half sleepy tone asking Katia to do something about our electricity. Expressing shock, she promptly arrived in an hour, switching on a simple tripped meter. Sigh. Technology. Which reminds me, technology here is everywhere. The door to our apartment has a alphanumeric entry code, credit cards necessarily have a chip, petrol stations are (wo)man-less, cycles can be hired without anyone’s assistance. Everything is just automatic!

We had a breakfast of toast and jam, and set off to finish chores – calling cards, tickets for our trip, rice and tamil street. Splitting into two groups at Gard de Nord, Patwa and me headed towards Tam street and were awed. It was Sri-Lankan Tamilian stores everywhere, selling everything that can be passed off as Indian. As Indian students on a budget are, we asked nearly at every shop for the cheapest calling card available and got something that can be as good as it can get. Too bad we will not be in Paris for the next 10 days to use it, cause we indeed got tickets to our trip outdoors finally. Albeit at an expensive price.

Venturing further into Tam Street, we stumbled upon this rather ancient church Eglise Saint Bernard. A towering gothic spire and some fantastic gargoyle-ish creatures kept me fascinated. The thing about Paris, as I have observed thus far is that every avenue ends in something that would make you go “wow”. The city is just that beautiful.

Taking a deviation on our way back, we hit Ed Superstores, buying apples at a bargain (a Euro a kg), milk(Euro .7 a litre) and cornflakes, we met the other two guys and picked up a calling card. The journey back also had us seeing one of those famous Parisian labour strikes, men and women in orange demanding greater salaries. A silent march, with drums and placards marked their protest. Interesting. Very interesting.

We retraced our steps to home, stumbling upon another church, something nameless. It was unmarked on the map, on the roads leading to it, next to it itself. Almost mysterious.

Coming home to a lunch of parathas and maggi, we worked on our finals profiles till almost 5 p.m. Inevitable delays meant our Paris trip began at almost 6 p.m., with Patwa ji taking the charge as the lead guide. Walking by pretty cafes, women, avenues and buildings, we walked across a labyrinth of streets, all the time heading towards the Siene. No one really bothered which way we were headed, all that mattered was we were seeing things. And today, almost unanimously, we saw the Paris that the world sees. And we fell in love with it.

A city is difficult to love, and today, it almost came instantaneously. We first walked across to the Church of Mother Mary, or BEATAE, Marie Virigini Lavretanae. It was Patwa’s first time at church, and it vaguely reminded me of the school chapel, although it was much larger in size. Next, we walked to the Eglise Sainte Trinite, the Church of the Holy Trinity.






I have always loved churches. Their spookiness and towering structures, their cold silence, the candles, the tiny chapel chairs and the organ, they all just evoke a mixture of emotions – many of reminiscence of bygone school days. Lighting candles in these churches is expensive, although it is completely optional to pay up for them.

Paris, now darker, just got better. We stepped next into Galaries Lafayette, our first Parisian mall. And wow. I say it again, wow! As much as I love to shop, this one would make my bro Sau go crazy! Every single brand that you’ve gone “damn, that’s expensive” was here, and how! Hermes, Louis Vuitton, Dior, Versace, Chanel, Mont Blanc – and these are the brands that only I have heard of. A not-so-fantastic Burberry trial perfume still lingers on my hand, the lady at the counter was feeling a bit too altruistic, spraying around euros like that. I’m coming back to this mall before leaving, to see that fantastic dome again, to explore all of its 5-7 floors and to shop! I shall. Soon. Dad, money!

We crossed Avenue upon Avenue of fantastic architecture, fantastic wrought iron lamp-posts, gold embossed angelic statues anointing buildings, you can just absorb so much if you just keep your eyes open.

(Keeping the nose open would make you smoke as much cigarette smoke as a chain smoker). See the Academie Nationale de Music, honouring music greats such as Beethoven, Mozart and Spontini. Flanked by two beautiful statues holding what looked like musical instruments, it was my favourite building thus far in Paris


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Strutting across a few theatres and many more cafes, we reached the end of another avenue to find Place de la Magdalene. Almost reminding me of the Parthenon at Greece, it had superb pillars towering over us. We sat there many minutes, taking it all in. It awed us, to watch the Egyptian Obelisk across the road, to watch traffic zip by, to watch silly tourists use a flash at night.


To breathe in Paris is something few can do, and that’s when it began to sink in, we are at Paris. We are in Europe. Paris. Love. Fashion. Cafes. Cigarettes. Buildings. The Eiffel.

Eiffel?

But where was the Eiffel?

Elusive so far, our first glimpse of it was so totally unexpected that we went “wow, man, this is awesome” almost in tandem. To catch Eiffel towering in the background with its spotlight revolving across the light, a dazzling beam of lights – it was lights all over.

A few disasters with the traffic later, I almost decided I’m going to follow traffic rules here the way Parisians do. Religiously.

Some outstanding photographs, and we came to the Egyptian Obelisk, apparently a gift from the Egyptian empire to the French empire.

Here we were – at Place de la Concorde - standing in a square that was surrounded by few of the most beautiful architecture marvels in all directions. Imagine. Imagine facing the Louvre in one direction, the Arc de Triomphe on another, the French Parliament on another and the Temple of Magdalene on the last. We sat there for what seemed like an age, just admiring it. My first sight of the Eiffel with the Arc, sitting in that square, and I said aloud, “I would want to bring my Mum and Dad here”. It was really that beautiful, speaking about it would only dilute its charm. And what has not been said about the Eiffel before.





We walked down on the banks of the Siene, watching an occasional restaurant or tour-of-Paris-by-the-night boat steam by. We even saw a Segway!

Coming down to our last stop for the day, we wanted to see the Louvre from up close, and man, the Louvre at night was outstanding. The slow trickling fountain, calm water falling down into the gutter, it was music to my ears in the crystal clear cold chilly day. And the glass pyramid, the miles of the former palace, now museum glittering in beautiful tungsten lamps, a facade more beautiful than anything I have ever seen.

Music from a distant wind pipe player could be heard streaming through, a gang of American cyclists, a couple of skaters who were dancing on skates, everything was really really wonderfully Paris.




We walked back 2 kilometres to our home, crashing in around 11.


Dinner was bread and maggi, we had too much to pack, too much to do. The next 10 days will be good. Very very good.

Hitting the sack now.