eastcoastwestcoast

Trains Across Europe: Books on Board

One last post, to wrap things up. As we traversed the northern European landscape, I associated our path in between cities with the stories that I was reading at the time. These are the books that accompanied me along my journey, filling my train time with vivid images and characters. I loved all four of these books, and recommend each.

Blood, Bones & Butter, by Gabrielle Hamilton

Cities: Dubai to Nottingham

Inner Cover Inscription: Laura R brought us a shipment of books from San Francisco, when she stayed with us in Dubai, en route to Kilimanjaro. This is the 1st of three that I am reading.

Underlined passages: None, because I loved this entire book, and kept repeating various stories throughout the rest of the journey.

Girl Walks Into A Bar, by Strawberry Saroyan

Cities: Nottingham to Ely

Inner Cover Inscription: I originally bought this years ago and packed it to reread on a holiday in Europe (from Dubai) in July 2011. The underlined passages are from the 2nd read. Canalside path, Nottingham England. James at cricket.

A few passages that I underlined:

Manhattan is, after all, the only place I know of that moves at the speed of panic.

Of course, fantasy exists in most romance, but I think it is particularly encouraged and intensified in all aspects of one's life in New York. To live in the city almost demands it, for why else would so many people put up with so little space, such high prices, such bitter winters, such feverish summers?

There's something about being part of a group of kindred spirits, a whole group of people that you not only like but that you also aspire to be like in certain ways, and who seem to, amazingly, feel the same way about you.

A Visit From The Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan

Cities: Ely to London to Paris

Inner Cover Inscription: Nottingham, July 31, 2011 [the day I purchased the book]

I loved this book, and only underlined one phrase early on:

She saw her apartment as he must see it - a bit of local color that would fade almost instantly into the tumble of adventures that everyone has on first coming to New York.

The White Album, by Joan Didion

Cities: Paris to Dubai

Inner Cover Inscription: August 2011, bought at Daunt Books in London, started in Paris on the Champs Elysees, completed aboard a 747 flying from Frankfurt to Dubai

A few passages that I underlined:

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his image.

The big antennae with the pulsing red lights had been for a month our landmarks. The big antennae with the pulsing red lights had in fact been for a month our destinations.

Last Day in Amsterdam, Last Day in Europe

Our cousin Frans always gives the best tours of Amsterdam, planning routes on his well-used maps, marking off landmarks that he thinks his guests will most appreciate (e.g., for Nita and Jane's upcoming visit in 2012, he's cased out a fabric store). We began our 2nd full day in Holland with a breakfast of bread and cheese in Bloemendaal and then hit the road for Zaandam. First, we took the backroads, avoiding the highways. We traveled through Spaarndam, a quaint little fishing village and then caught a small ferry the short distance across a canal. Enormous freighters passed by, and space-age wind turbines lined the landscape. A man tossed a ball to his dog on the shore.

We parked in Zaandam and caught the train back into Amsterdam Centraal, making a quick beeline for the Jordaan. The rain held off most of this 2nd day, making for perfect walking weather. Our first stop was at a pub that Frans had taken me to on a previous visit, a very old one, with Delft tiles lining the walls. The day before, Jules had told us about some little cafe that sells apple tart slices, warm, with whipped cream, and people form a line around the corner for these plates. I thought about that delicious apple pie the whole day, and while we never saw that aforementioned place, at this first pitstop, we got ourselves a slice of apple tart with slagroom, a.k.a. whipped cream.

I love visiting the hofjes in Amsterdam, the little hidden courtyards lined with apartments. So cozy, such a lovely sanctuary behind a doorway in the city.

More Dutch scenes along the way... canals and bikes.

Moederfits ("Mom Bike") and cheese shop

The flower market, where we bought some bulbs that now sit in our cold fridge so that they'll be convinced winter is over when we take them out in Dubai in December. There's my ponytail and Frans in the bottom of this pic.

Neat how the flower market is floating on a canal.

For lunch, we went over to Rembrandtsplein, and also enjoyed the fact that many Dutch menus feature tasty Belgian beers.

We then made our way to one of the coolest museums, the Van Loon, the home of an aristocratic family (hundreds and hundreds of years of history) that has been preserved as it was, so that visitors can see how life in Amsterdam once was. Really fascinating, lots of little passageways and secret doors. Opulent details.

And lastly, no Frans Tour would be complete without a visit to The Old Sailor in the Red Light District.

That evening, sufficiently full of great food and fresh air, we fell asleep early in Zaandam, a nice night's sleep before our flight the next day. We had our bread and cheese for breakfast, said hi to Frans' chickens in the backyard coop and then headed to Schiphol. After two weeks on trains, it was unusual to go through the plane routine once again. After a short hop to Frankfurt, we settled into our longhaul flight back to Dubai, relishing all of the memories from this vacation and feeling pleasantly rested and relaxed.

Next Stop: Amsterdam

Our high-speed train from Paris arrived in Amsterdam Centraal, and we found our way onto the local commuter rail to Bloemendaal. Mariette greeted us with her Mini at the little village's station, rubbing my bare arms, "it's so cold!" To which I replied, "better than Dubai!"

I remember the first time I went to Holland, I had just graduated from MIT and had some time off before I started my job. It was 2002, and this was my first trip to Europe, and I loved it! Whenever people ask if I feel any connection to Holland, I always say that there's a connection to the Dutch way of life, thanks mostly to Oma and the values that she instilled in all of us when we were growing up. And then I also say that, on that first trip to Holland, I realized how I looked like all of these strong, sturdy, tall, light girls - like, now I get it.

We settle into Jos & Mariette's gezellig house, full of fascinating curios, souvenirs and family photos. This one is a particular favourite, right in the front door. I pointed to it and told James, "that's my Oma!"

That night, we slept in the attic as the rain lashed down (a quick aside, I've been following the Hurricane coverage for NYC this weekend, and the BBC keeps using the word "lashing," so perfect for a rainstorm), pelting the roof. The weather was more like a late November in Vancouver, and in that bed, we bundled up like we were camping. Of course, cold air and rainstorm soundtracks both make for deep sleeps.

The next morning, the rainclouds still hovering overhead, we had a quick walk around the Bloemendaal trails and then caught the train into Amsterdam. Such a quick ride, less than half an hour. A luxury of a 30 minute commute.

And exiting the station, behold - HOLLAND!

Our first stop was the brand new library, with its soothing modern design and floor after floor of quiet couches and study carrels. Were I a student in Amsterdam, this would be my territory. On the top floor, an outdoor patio that we stepped onto for some photos, before hurrying back inside to avoid the fierce winds and rain. And inside, a gourmet cafeteria.

There's always an easy pace when wandering with our Dutch relatives, with many opportunities to stop for a cup of coffee, a beer, a slice of apple pie along the way. In this case, at our first stop in Amsterdam, we enjoyed a hot bowl of soup for lunch.

Sufficiently warmed, we stepped back out into the rain and headed to the Jordaan.

Rainy self-portrait.

I love walking along the canals, with the houseboats lining the banks, and the classic Dutch homes along the way. And the way that some houses are slanting so severely, supported not by foundations but by the walls of their neighbouring structures. We wonder, do you cut the leg of the dining room table a little shorter? Do you leave that table in the house when you move, since it is customized to that home?

And then we had a chance to relive some university memories, as Jules showed us his amazing canal house. It's owned by the school, so he pays a very affordable rent to live in the yellowish building behind him in this photo. On the inside, it's very much a student life, with ashtrays full of butts, empty alcohol bottles, a housecat roaming the kitchen in search of mice. But then you see the bedrooms with their high ceilings and windows, one of which looked out onto the water. And you realize, it's guaranteed cheap rent for several years in a canal house in the Jordaan, and... yes, he is enjoying life.

Jos, Mariette, James and I then wandered onward, and when the rainfall intensified, we stopped into a cafe for a beer. Quite cozy, really, to be sitting inside while it rains.

We made our way to a photography exhibit and then met up with Maurice and Jules for dinner at a place whose name translates to "The Barking Fish." Thanks to the weather, I hadn't take many photos that day, which also means this is the only one with Mariette. A delicious dinner in this corner cafe in the Jordaan. After dinner, we made our way back to the train to Bloemendaal.

And while the previous night's cold air and rainstorm soundtrack had had us sleeping deeply, this day's damp chill and long walks did the trick as well. Early to sleep, in anticipation of another tour in Amsterdam with Frans the next day.

But First, One More Post With Paris Pics

I know I said that Amsterdam would be the "next stop" in my blog posts, but let's quickly revisit a few more photos of Paris before we leave that glorious city.

Notre Dame Cathedral is spectacular, and I especially liked the little garden behind it.

We got three La Duree macarons each, pistachio, chocolate and coffee pour le monsieur, and lemon, salted caramel and coffee pour moi. James' pistachio was a revelation, light in flavour at first with a pistachio taste that slowly blossomed as you chewed it. Deelish.

The delightful Shakespeare & Co bookstore, like a cozy house with books jammed into every nook and cranny.

A pathway in the Tuileries. We remarked that trees in Paris are used in such artistic way, landscaped to frame sitting areas, sculpture gardens, or ponds, or creating pathways for walking.

Wandering past the entrance to this courtyard, we just had to step inside to look at the nice gardens. These were at the National Archives.

I mentioned the police in the Picnic Post that we were worried about getting caught with a bottle of wine, so we poured it into two water bottles instead. The policeman walked by several times and didn't even look at us, more focused on blowing his whistle at people who were reclining on patches of lawn that were off-limits.

I may never ascend the Eiffel Tower, having no desire to spend hours in line when I can get just as good a view from other places. But this was the first time that I walked underneath it, and what a beauty - lacy and intricate.

Title of this photo: One For Michelle. To keep our tradition alive.

Outside a culinary school

Assembling flowers

And this one's a favourite. We saw signs for the Paris Plages along the Seine, and saw the beach loungechairs and umbrellas. We then saw the pool with all of these people doing an exercise class with their big pool noodles, how neat it all looked, with the bright blue water of the pool. James snapped a photo and next thing, we were being yelled at by the lifeguard. We stepped away from the fence... and then saw the big No Photos sign. Ooops.

Okay, now for real: next stop, Amsterdam!

Picnics In Parks And Trains

From my journal:

Thalys to Amsterdam, 186 mph

I read Joan Didion, James reads "Tales From The Fast Trains." Our lunch, which we pull from a picnic sack in Brussels:

- the crustiest, freshest of baguettes, purchased for 0.95 Euro near our metro

- two stinky cheeses, 1. the Tomme with an herb rind, chosen for its similarity to the Comte enjoyed the day before in the Luxembourg Gardens, and 2. the St Felicien, oozing like fondue by the time we open it, wrestling with our Swiss Army Knife to scoop the melted cheese out of the box, our train neighbour wordlessly handing us his proper knife for serving

- one bottle of 6 Euro red wine, bought next to the fromager, sipped from two blue plastic tumblers, that we got in anticipation, on Rue Mouffetard

The Flemish countryside racing past, we finish our lunch after Antwerp.

Scenes below from our picnic in Luxembourg Gardens and on the train, the best picnics of my life.

The market where we looked for goodies

The neighbourhood shops where we got the cheese and wine

Picnic in Luxembourg Gardens, wine poured into water bottles so that we wouldn't get in trouble from the cops-with-whistles

A stroll through the Gardens later, watching the kids playing with sailboats

And then our Thalys picnic cutlery, with red-handled knife thanks to the old man next to us, who took sympathy on us as we tried to serve the cheese and gave us a proper utensil.

Next stop, Amsterdam!

Les Petites Choses

After visiting with so many friends and family in England, and looking forward to visits in Amsterdam, we saw our stop in Paris as a chance to spend some nice quiet time together on this holiday. The daily itinerary went something like this:

• Morning sleep-in
• Wake up to look at this view

• Walk down to Village Ronsard for the petit dejeuner. We tried this place first, and then another on the 2nd day, but reverted to Ronsard because they served an extra piece of toast along with the flaky croissant, oj and tea. Plus, the waitress was super nice and spoke singsongy French

• Done with breakfast, and sporting our running shoes, we set out to walk and walk and walk. After several days, we had covered a huge patch of the city. Lots of fascinating details along the way.
• Lots of these little space invader mosaics all over the place

• Locks on the Pont des Arts

• The geometry of the Eiffel Tower

• A shrink-wrapped car

• Pretty lights in a narrow passageway

• A tiny reading room in the amazing Shakespeare & Co bookstore

• Neat tavern signs

• And after walking so much, with only a quick, satisfying lunch break at some point in the afternoon that consisted of a delicious baguette sandwich (is it because there's a little butter on the bread? is it the bread itself? how are they so delicious?), we would stop somewhere for "un petit verre" of wine, consult the guidebook for restaurants, and head off for a nice sit-down dinner. Places like this, below. Cozy, excellent food, friendly staff

Vive La France

Excerpts from my journal, as our itinerary took us from England to France:

Eurostar to Paris Nord

Emerging from the Chunnel into a movie set countryside, jelly roll hay bales, golden sunset, villages, a rainbow (!)

Translating words in my mind: arc-en-ciel, bisou, nuage

The euphoria of language appearing when needed, where do these words hide in the intervening years? ramasser, boue, chariot

James has an excellent strategy for checking out a new city on your first day there, a way of drinking the whole place in - find a look-out that gives you a view high above the town. With him, I've seen London, Reykjavik, Rome, Dubai, and now Paris (and later Amsterdam on this same trip) from high above each city, taking in the skyline, the sprawl, the vista.

Our hotel was right near the Pantheon, and we could walk right up this road in the photo below to its front door. Day one, my dormant French language skills reappearing out of nowhere, I asked if there were places available in the 11am tour, having arrived there just a few minutes ahead of 11 after a petit dejeuner of croissants et confiture, tea and oj. Yes, we could join the tour.

This really is a beautiful city.

After this first glance at the city, we began the first of our endless days of walking this city, walking walking walking walking everywhere. Stopping for a lunch of the best sandwiches ever, baguette with jambon et beurre, for example. In the early evening, we would find a cafe in this very neighbourhood, and have a sip of wine ("a little glass") or Lillet Blanc before locating a nice little bistro to have a proper dinner, well-earned from an afternoon of hiking.

Urban Suburbs

Press play on this video, "The Suburbs" by The Arcade Fire, and have this tune in the background as you read this recap of our visit to London.

I love this song, we listened to it in Fred's apartment in Notting Hill, and it became a soundtrack to the holiday, played on repeat on Fred's CD player, and later in my mind after we'd taken a train to the next city.

From my journal:

"Except for one rainy morning in London, we had gorgeous clear sunny afternoons. Strolling the whitewashed Notting Hill buildings, I recalled our last similarly clear time in London, and thought about the perfection."

London is always beautiful when I visit, a series of beautiful days where we can walk and walk and walk outside. The pale sun hitting the buildings at just the right angle, the sound of people laughing and chatting in a calm crowd outside a pub, the flowers planted in neat window boxes, the mild temperatures that make for excellent exploring weather. But I know that the truth of London is that it is more Vancouver-esque, that there will be days, even weeks of grey rain, and that the 10pm sunsets will soon become pre-5pm sunsets. So I'm not naive, I know that there's this other side to its personality, but I appreciate the luck I've had in encountering the best of London, almost every time.

It's a place where, by now, I no longer feel like much of a tourist, and I get myself out to Canary Wharf for a business meeting with my Oyster Card in hand, or I jog over to Hyde Park for a nice morning run, or I find myself a seat at Tiny Robot for a glass of wine while I wait for the guys to arrive on the Tube. Favourite cafes and bookstores are visited, and favourite friends are visited as well.

I only took 5 photos in London, over several days, which I take to be a true sign of this transition from tourist-mode to familiar-mode.

One afternoon, after the rainy weather had blown away, we found ourselves with a crowd of friends high above Oxford Circus. The classic after-work crowd, relishing the return of the sunshine and sticking to the outside terrace even when the breezes were cold and the sun disappeared behind a cloud.

I packed one nice dress on this trip, and it had its only holiday appearance on an evening in London, when we caught a taxi to a nice restaurant, sharing crab appetizers, tasty entrees, a millefeuille dessert with friends. I enjoy catching taxis in London, as I am far more reliant on the Tube. My geography of the city is limited to those stops from which I've emerged, and if you were to plunk me down somewhere and ask, "how far to Islington? (or Paddington, or King's Cross, or the Thames)" I would be thoroughly flummoxed. I just don't know how it all connects, how that Tube map spreads out in real miles. So, in a taxi above ground, I see that it's not that far from Notting Hill to Oxford Circus and that we pass familiar places along the way. If I lived here, I would use my NYC strategy, whereupon I would walk and walk and walk, noticing little details along the way. Lower East Side to Port Authority and everything in between. Someday soon, I will more immediately recognize the landmarks of London, but for now, I immerse in the little details that I see.

One grey afternoon, we walked to the movies, which is a perfect way to shake off the effects of a big night before. That morning, we had sat in the back booth of a diner down the street, eating pancakes. The milkshake machine had been broken, thwarting our orders of chocolate shakes. I took a few photos of the decor, old books and photos.

And then late one night, back at Fred's place, we sang out loud to songs on full blast, the Arcade Fire, Pearl Jam (come on, listen to "Alive" again, what an anthem), The Tragically Hip... the windows were open, the air was cool, the streets outside were quiet.

Great Cathedral

In high school Social Studies (aka Best Class Ever), Mr C had us read a book about the construction of a huge cathedral, and the illustrations were incredible - black and white line drawings that showed how the stone cathedral soon grew to tower over the rest of the village.

I thought about this while we drove to Ely, where the cathedral peeks out in the distance, dwarfing everything around it.

James had a lot of neat stories about this part of town, showing us where he's sit for the weekly school assemblies, and the path he would follow to get from class to class. The fields where they played sports and the cafeteria where they would line up to get lunch. I could just imagine the scene during the school year, all those kids in their nice uniforms, making their way across campus.

Listen to the Cooing Pigeons, Watch the Hares In The Fields

In planning our, as one friend called it, "whistle stop tour across Europe," I ended up having to photocopy the month of August page from my calendar so that I could keep track of our daily city location and plans, and everyday had some sort of entry. Was this going to be one of those vacations where you almost need a vacation from the vacation once it's over?

Not at all.

Especially when the travels include several days in the quiet countryside, with the sound of cooing pigeons and the ears of hares just barely appearing above the stalks of wheat in the field across the street.

And bunnies in the field out the bedroom window (there are two in the photo below).

We spent our first day here touring the gorgeous Ely Cathedral, and I'll post photos from that lovely place in an upcoming post. But a nice part of the time was spent relaxing in the sitting room, or out in the yard.

An entire day was spent in these lawn chairs below, slowly moving with the path of the sun. Nothing but the breezes and "coo coo cuckoo" of pigeons.

Nice walks along the roadway, past potato fields and corn.

Some action one morning, as the combine showed up at the field, quickly speeding through and flattening the field behind it, until a dark cloud appeared and fat raindrops fell for a few hours, bringing their progress to a halt.

But before the rain had appeared, there was time to hang our laundry out in the breezes, leaving us with the most freshly fragrant clean clothes that I've worn in ages.

This is where the holiday was particularly restful, appreciating the small happy moments, line-dried laundry, rabbits, reading books in the lovely air outside, finding chestnuts along the road, watching someone drive up the road and let their dog out of the door to bound through the fields, listening to the laughter as we watched a comedy show at night. And trying Battenberg cake for the first time - marzipan goodness!