It is now officially April (and, in fact has been for some time – I’ve been a bit behind on my blogging) and Paris is full of signs of spring: brilliantly green leaves have popped up as if overnight on the trees lining the city’s Haussmannian boulevards, Parisians are flocking to green spaces to pass lazy afternoons on the grass (I should know; I spend a lovely afternoon among the groups of young people lounging about the Place des Vosges) and night doesn’t fall until well after 8 p.m. This lovely transition from the chill and dampness of winter makes it even more difficult to concentrate on the massive amount of work that keeps piling up. It’s equally hard to image ever leaving this beautifully blossoming city, although I will be doing so all too soon (My flight delivers me back to the other side of the Atlantic on May 30).
I believe this all explains why I haven’t recorded my thoughts here in a while, but I decided to use a quick minute, just days before I leave for spring break in the south of France, to catch up on my amazing experiences. In the last few weeks, I’ve visited four enchanting cities beyond Paris:
Amiens Less than an hour and a half from Paris by train, Amiens, I’ve decided, would be an excellent place to live. One could experience the charm and tranquility of quaint small-town life yet remain a mere train-ride from the excitement of Paris. Amiens certainly had a lot to offer in the realm of charm. The plentiful canals of the Saint-Leu district earn the town’s nickname as the “Little Venice of the North.” The Victorian houses (including Jules Verne’s) of the Henriville area create a cozy, old-world feel. And like every other French city, the centre-ville is a shopper-friendly pedestrian area with all the stores one would expect. Amien’s centerpiece, an enormous 13th-century cathedral twice the size of Notre-Dame de Paris, caps the town’s charm with a detailed and awe-inspiring beauty; it may be the most beautiful cathedral I’ve ever seen. I can’t forget to mention the excellent galettes my mom and I ate at a crêperie along the river: my mom’s contained ratatouille and chicken and mine, goat’s cheese, tomato and honey.
Boulogne-sur-mer A rainy and cold first day in a deserted Boulogne-sur-mer left me disappointed with my travel decision, but a sunny and pleasant second day more than made up for the unfavorable conditions of the first. The old fortified, hilltop town of Boulogne-sur-mer provides a haven of history and tranquility amongst the activity of this modern port. Throughout our visit, we walked the circumference of the historic town’s walls, which gave excellent views onto the city and English Channel beyond. We also visited the city’s musée des beaux arts, housed in a former castle, and the more modern basilica. Our walk to the beach was a bit miserable the first day due to the gale-force winds and occasional moments of drizzle. When we returned to the beach the second day, however, the wind was gone and with the sun shining, it was a perfect afternoon for walking the beach and collecting shells. A number of the town’s inhabitants had the same idea and the pier and harbor were busy with families out for a Sunday afternoon stroll. We joined the families to order hamburgers and fries from stands along the channel and enjoyed a lunch in the sun before boarding our train back to Paris.
Bruxelles Just last weekend, my friend Rebecca and I caught the train to Belgium for a weekend of unabashed tourism. We started out in Brussels, which is a mere hour and a half from Paris by the lightning-fast Thalys train. With the help of an irreverently hip free map from our hostel and the advice of our friend who spent a semester in Belgium, we wandered the city, hitting the major sites of the centre-ville like Manneken Pis (an adorably tiny statue of a little boy peeing), the Grand Place and the Royal Palace. We also took the time to enjoy the Musée des beaux arts where we admired the fantastical images of Bosch and the overwhelming tableaus of Rubens. We even indulged our love for Tintin at the Comic Museum. Of course, we also ate waffles and chocolate and enjoyed a beer before dinner. I very much enjoyed the intricate and whimsical architecture of the city which made it so very different from Paris. The numerous open plazas also promoted a sociability and openness that made such a huge European capital seem friendly and welcoming.
Bruges The real Venice of the north, Bruges is an enclosed, canal filled town that feels more like a Disney attraction than an actual municipality. Each street, each storefront, each corner is as picturesque as the next, and even on the chilly, cloud-filled day of our visit, its charm shined through. Rebecca and I followed our guidebook’s walking tour which led us past a number of delightful canals, adorable facades and historic buildings to its end at the serene Béguinage, a daffodil-filled courtyard surrounded by cute Bruges houses. Along the way, we snacked on a cornet of fries and sampled some more chocolate. The highlight of the visit (besides the sheer beauty of it all) was emerging from dinner to join the crowd on the Markt plaza for a free outdoor Belgian rock concert.
Showing posts with label canals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label canals. Show all posts
11 April 2009
02 February 2009
04 January 2009
Amsterdam sans souci
With the songs of the same name by Guster and Peter Bjorn & John ringing in my ears, Ben and I set off for Amsterdam ridiculously early on the day after my last class before break.
The train plowed through Belgium quicker than the Germans (too soon? I don’t think so) and made stops at all of the Netherlands’ major cities – which are surprisingly close together even for the tiny speck of a country that is Holland – before finding its terminus and our destination at Amsterdam’s Central Station.
Once we had located our adorable, canal-side hotel, one member of our party took an epic nap while the other explored the nearby Museum Quarter and the adorable Prince William Canal, noting interesting restaurants and attractions along the way. For dinner, we tried out the nearby Pancake Corner where I ate a “pizza pancake,” and Ben tapped his England nostalgia for some fish and chips.
We ended our night at the Van Gogh Museum which is open in nocturne Friday nights, complete with DJ. The atmosphere was fun, and the art was great. The large collection of Van Goghs was laid out chronologically, and detailed texts – always translated in perfect English – gave context and insight into Van Gogh’s troubled psyche.
The next day was full of walking – a common theme of our vacation(s) – and colonialism. We walked “Farther
Afield” as our guidebook put it to the Tropenmuseum. Formerly a testament to the colonial glory of the Netherlands (yes, the tiny country was a colonial power, controlling the massive Indonesia for hundreds of years), the “Tropical Museum” now hopes to offer ethnographic “stories” from across the world. It was a bit like the Musée Quai Branly but much more anthropological. And although the cartoon Indian with an accent fit for Apu clearly crossed the line of good taste and cultural sensitivity, the museum was well-done and held the attention of two self-proclaimed po-co enthusiasts. Plus, an exhibition on the influence of Vodou in Haiti was enlightening and surprising.
After learning that the National Maritime Museum was closed for renovation – along with half of Amsterdam – we strolled about the harbor and
back to the Leidseplein, the bustling plaza located near our hotel. We chose a British sports bar for dinner. This helped to cement Ben’s theory that Amsterdam is really just an extension of the UK. He says that Amsterdam was the most like Great Britain of any city he’s been to (outside of GB, of course).
The omnipresence of English and Dutch’s tonal familiarity helped to add to this Anglophonic atmosphere, but for me, the most important factor was le style de vie of the Dutch. They seemed so laid back, so breezy, so…happy. After living in Paris for four months, it was a shock to see Europeans who looked and acted carefree. They smiled and laughed as they passed, leisurely riding their bicycles. They weren’t overly concerned with their outfits, and they weren’t threatened by the English language the way the French are. They were visibly happy, something so rare chez les Français. It was a welcome break from my French surroundings.
Our third day in Amsterdam was filled with more museums. Having purchased a money-saving
“museumkaart,” we had free access to all the state-run museums; tapping our frugal Dutch heritage, we profited. Although Amsterdam’s equivalent to the Louvre, the Rijksmuseum (“state museum”) was limited due to renovations, it offered a very manageable selection of the Dutch masters, including a sizeable Rembrandt collection and a number of Vermeers.
We tried to stop in at the Filmmuseum, but after a confusing exchange with the friendly cashier, eventually learned that they didn’t have an exposition showing.
The foam (fotografiemuseum Amsterdam) proved interesting, however, and we finished our night there before heading to the Pancake Bakery. Suggested by our guidebook, the intimate eatery offered over 50 varieties of traditional Dutch pancakes. Ben’s cinnamon-apple and my cheese pancakes were excellent, and the friendly service reminded me how different from Paris Amsterdam really was.
On our final day in the city, we finally embarked into the panic-attack inducing, tourist-filled areas of Amsterdam. Until this point, we’d mostly mingled amongst natives on the outskirts of town, but we decided we should see the city center before we departed. We dropped our bags off at Central Station and walked down Damrak. We found them alright; tourists swarmed the street like screaming teenagers at an ’N Sync concert circa 1999. Souvenir shops, fast food and tacky museums abounded. I found it hard to see the allure of this people-filled destination. I much preferred the quiet canals and local parks we had spent our first three days exploring. But the crowd-think mentality apparently rules among tourists. The good thing is this collective thinking makes them easy enough to avoid: simply hop on a side street or take the next road over and life will be nearly tourist-free.
After fighting off the crowds, we saw an intriguing contemporary art exhibit in the “New Church” – another
Pont Neuf situation considering the church dates from the 15th century. Since Amsterdam’s contemporary art museum was closed for renovations – shocker – select pieces were on display within the church. The theme of spirituality united the exhibit, making the randomness of contemporary art more palatable. As always with the Dutch, the text accompanying the art was extensive and informative, this time presented in a take-home booklet.
We spent the afternoon in the amusing Amsterdam Historical Museum and passed by the “Old Church,” a 13th-century wonder located squarely in the Red Light District, just before closing.
We caught our bus to Prague later that night without a hitch.
We’d seen so much in Amsterdam that it felt like time to move on, but I was still sad to leave that laid-back Amsterdam style and those glorious canals behind.
The train plowed through Belgium quicker than the Germans (too soon? I don’t think so) and made stops at all of the Netherlands’ major cities – which are surprisingly close together even for the tiny speck of a country that is Holland – before finding its terminus and our destination at Amsterdam’s Central Station.
Once we had located our adorable, canal-side hotel, one member of our party took an epic nap while the other explored the nearby Museum Quarter and the adorable Prince William Canal, noting interesting restaurants and attractions along the way. For dinner, we tried out the nearby Pancake Corner where I ate a “pizza pancake,” and Ben tapped his England nostalgia for some fish and chips.We ended our night at the Van Gogh Museum which is open in nocturne Friday nights, complete with DJ. The atmosphere was fun, and the art was great. The large collection of Van Goghs was laid out chronologically, and detailed texts – always translated in perfect English – gave context and insight into Van Gogh’s troubled psyche.
The next day was full of walking – a common theme of our vacation(s) – and colonialism. We walked “Farther
Afield” as our guidebook put it to the Tropenmuseum. Formerly a testament to the colonial glory of the Netherlands (yes, the tiny country was a colonial power, controlling the massive Indonesia for hundreds of years), the “Tropical Museum” now hopes to offer ethnographic “stories” from across the world. It was a bit like the Musée Quai Branly but much more anthropological. And although the cartoon Indian with an accent fit for Apu clearly crossed the line of good taste and cultural sensitivity, the museum was well-done and held the attention of two self-proclaimed po-co enthusiasts. Plus, an exhibition on the influence of Vodou in Haiti was enlightening and surprising.After learning that the National Maritime Museum was closed for renovation – along with half of Amsterdam – we strolled about the harbor and
back to the Leidseplein, the bustling plaza located near our hotel. We chose a British sports bar for dinner. This helped to cement Ben’s theory that Amsterdam is really just an extension of the UK. He says that Amsterdam was the most like Great Britain of any city he’s been to (outside of GB, of course).The omnipresence of English and Dutch’s tonal familiarity helped to add to this Anglophonic atmosphere, but for me, the most important factor was le style de vie of the Dutch. They seemed so laid back, so breezy, so…happy. After living in Paris for four months, it was a shock to see Europeans who looked and acted carefree. They smiled and laughed as they passed, leisurely riding their bicycles. They weren’t overly concerned with their outfits, and they weren’t threatened by the English language the way the French are. They were visibly happy, something so rare chez les Français. It was a welcome break from my French surroundings.
Our third day in Amsterdam was filled with more museums. Having purchased a money-saving
“museumkaart,” we had free access to all the state-run museums; tapping our frugal Dutch heritage, we profited. Although Amsterdam’s equivalent to the Louvre, the Rijksmuseum (“state museum”) was limited due to renovations, it offered a very manageable selection of the Dutch masters, including a sizeable Rembrandt collection and a number of Vermeers.We tried to stop in at the Filmmuseum, but after a confusing exchange with the friendly cashier, eventually learned that they didn’t have an exposition showing.
The foam (fotografiemuseum Amsterdam) proved interesting, however, and we finished our night there before heading to the Pancake Bakery. Suggested by our guidebook, the intimate eatery offered over 50 varieties of traditional Dutch pancakes. Ben’s cinnamon-apple and my cheese pancakes were excellent, and the friendly service reminded me how different from Paris Amsterdam really was.On our final day in the city, we finally embarked into the panic-attack inducing, tourist-filled areas of Amsterdam. Until this point, we’d mostly mingled amongst natives on the outskirts of town, but we decided we should see the city center before we departed. We dropped our bags off at Central Station and walked down Damrak. We found them alright; tourists swarmed the street like screaming teenagers at an ’N Sync concert circa 1999. Souvenir shops, fast food and tacky museums abounded. I found it hard to see the allure of this people-filled destination. I much preferred the quiet canals and local parks we had spent our first three days exploring. But the crowd-think mentality apparently rules among tourists. The good thing is this collective thinking makes them easy enough to avoid: simply hop on a side street or take the next road over and life will be nearly tourist-free.
After fighting off the crowds, we saw an intriguing contemporary art exhibit in the “New Church” – another
Pont Neuf situation considering the church dates from the 15th century. Since Amsterdam’s contemporary art museum was closed for renovations – shocker – select pieces were on display within the church. The theme of spirituality united the exhibit, making the randomness of contemporary art more palatable. As always with the Dutch, the text accompanying the art was extensive and informative, this time presented in a take-home booklet.We spent the afternoon in the amusing Amsterdam Historical Museum and passed by the “Old Church,” a 13th-century wonder located squarely in the Red Light District, just before closing.
We caught our bus to Prague later that night without a hitch.
We’d seen so much in Amsterdam that it felt like time to move on, but I was still sad to leave that laid-back Amsterdam style and those glorious canals behind.
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