Travel Notes......Continued

Something else that is dripping with ye olde world charm and not to be missed is the Montmartre area of Paris. Montmartre (‘mountain of the martyr') is a little hill in the outskirts of Paris that takes you out of Baron Haussmann’s grand central Paris and transports you to the rustic settings of windmills, vineyards, rolling hills, beautiful views and the distinctly lingering flavors of a deliciously decadent, bohemian and artistic past.

Since Montmartre-annexed to Paris in 1860-was outside city limits, it was subject to fewer taxes. Also, the only vineyard in Paris is located here. These factors combined well and people came here to lead the good life of drinking and cabarets. The good life attracted the artistic people in particular. In the mid-1800s, the first of the famed artists of Montmarte, Camille Pissarro, came to live there. By the end of the century, the area was not only the epicenter of art in Paris but home to some of the most influential movements and artists ever. It has nurtured movements such as Impressionism, Cubism, Fauvism and Surrealism and many greats have worked here, maintaining their studios and living quarters in the area. Vincent van Gogh, Henri Matisse, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Edgar Degas, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque, Paul Cézanne, Claude Monet, Salvador Dalí, have all worked in Montmartre and have been inspired by the surrounding sights and scenes.

One artist commune, where artists lived and rented studios is Le Bateau-Lavoir; the site is now a museum. It was home to Pablo Picasso (1904-1909), Amedeo Modigliani and Juan Gris who lived there as impecunious artists. Renoir, Emile Bernard, Suzanne Valadon, Maurice Utrillo and Raoul Dufy all had studios there towards the turn of the century and it was the meeting place for a lot of important artistic figures like Guillaume Apollinaire, Georges Braque, Henri Matisse and Jean Cocteau. Picasso painted in this studio during his blue period till the early works of cubism and one of his classic works ‘Les Demoiselles d'Avignon’ was painted here.

Montmartre is also known for it's cabarets. The better known ones being the 'Moulin Rouge' (red windmill) whose most famous patron was Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the venue is well represented in his works and the 'Au Lapin Agile' whose patrons included Picasso, Modigliani, Apollinaire and Utrillo.

The spirit of bohemian Montmartre is intact today and an imaginative person can almost see the small distorted figure of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec strolling into the 'Moulin Rouge' and painting the ‘can-can’ dancers and the ‘Bal du Moulin de la Galette’ (Renoir’s depiction of the dances that used to be held at the Moulin de la Galette) swirls in front of your eyes as the 'Moulin de la Galette' (a windmill)comes into view walking uphill.

The windmills are relics from a rural past of the village of Montmartre where they were used to grind grain. Some of them can still be found here. A well recognized symbol from that past being the rotating bright red blades of the Moulin rouge; one of the most visible landmarks of the area.

Montmartre is full of surprises; you will find all sorts of things here-from the statuesque church of 'Sacré Coeur’ to the hectic ‘Place du Tertre’ bustling with artists of varying talent who are eager to paint the tourists a portrait, from a little train that runs through the main sights of the neighbourhood to a small funicular that transports passengers to the top of the hill of Montmartre and back down. The only Vineyard of Paris still produces wine. Although the product is widely regarded as being dodgy, it is sought after for the novelty value and because the proceeds go to charity. There is so much more to see like the ‘Dalí Espace Montmartre’, ‘Musée de Montmartre’, and ‘Cimitière de Montmartre’.

One eye catching little thing that I came across was this irresistibly quaint sculpture of what appears to be a man passing through a wall. And that is exactly what it is; a dedication to author ‘Marcel Aymé’ who created Le Passe-Muraille or ‘The Walker-Through-Walls’. This is an everyman character whose life is dramatically altered, aged 42, when he discovers that he can pass through walls. The sculpture depicts Aymé from a poignant moment in his own story. It is a simple little sculpture but no one can pass by it without being fascinated.

I finish my walk through Montmartre at the church of 'Sacré Coeur’ - a church that seeks forgiveness for the ‘Franco-Prussian war’ and other sins-the highest point in Paris which has breathtaking views of city below and when you descend and look up, a grand view of the ‘Sacré Coeur’ looming above.

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Being alone in a new city is somewhat brutal (though interesting). There is literally no way of escaping myself, wherever I go and whatever I do; my thoughts cannot be interrupted or distracted. Even the mindlessness of TV is denied because it is mostly in French.

I am regularly watching ‘two and a half men’, ‘who wants to be a millionaire’, ‘young and the restless’ and ‘desperate housewives’ in French. I see some French cinema although here it must be just cinema and listen to French hip hop which is just as wonderful as English hip hop; the musical rhythms of angry swearing seems to be universal and does cut across language barriers. I could not wait for ‘Les amis’ (Friends) and it did not disappoint. It was utterly hilarious to see the familiar gang talking in French. But, thank God there was no ‘Le Seinfeld’; I would have drawn the line at a French Kramer.

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I warm to Madrid/ Spain instantaneously. I think it was being greeted by unexpected sunshine as late as 8:30 PM and the spacious, artistic interiors of the ‘Stirling prize’ (for architecture) winning Barajas International airport. It is a design that not only looks exotic with it’s wavy undulating bamboo roofs but these are cleverly designed to maximize use of light, give the appearance of warmth, spaciousness and many other tricky little things. It is a brilliant and appealing design and great way to enter any city/ country.

Travel is exhausting. There is a lot of walking and carrying involved. I cannot step out on any given day without an umbrella, a light jacket, a lonely planet and maps, language book, a notebook, camera, wallet and other sundry items. I have already been traveling for a month before I get to Madrid. The spirit is enthusiastic enough to do this forever but the body is not nearly as willing.

So, I am only too happy to live the spirit of Spanish somnolence and siestas. I never wake before noon; I then slowly drink a few cups of coffee standing in the balcony watching eager tourists pass by, a long and relaxed lunch at 2 ish, then a small break-light reading or sleep, some sights and then dinner at 9 ish, which is also as relaxed as a meal can possibly be. It is the good life on a grand scale. If I wasn’t ambitious, I would be only too happy to pursue this lifestyle.

I am content to just stand in the balcony (third floor) looking out, resembling the 'The girl in the window'. To be precise, girlhood has passed and I was not looking out to the sea and it was not so much a window as a balcony. But the broad principle of standing and gazing applies. Directly in front of me is the ‘Congreso de los Diputados’ building-the lower house of the Spanish Parliament-which is as impressive a neoclassical facade as you can see anywhere, with it’s Corinthian columns and two bronze lions at guard. If I look right, at the far end is the 'Plaza de neptuno', as pleasing a Romanesque fountain as any and the church 'Claustro de San Jerónimo el Real', as pleasant an old church as can be found anywhere looms in view behind the fountain.

I can’t actually see the ‘Golden triangle of art’. But I am aware that the somewhat unimaginatively named ‘Golden triangle’, which is three fine art galleries all located near each other is but a stone’s throw away from me. I can get to the ‘Museo del Prado’ in a 3 minute walk, the ‘Museo Thyssen Bornemisza’ in 2 minutes and the ‘Museo Sofia’ in about 8 minutes.

I ask the readers to take a good look at the view from the balcony. Where I was standing was the very heart of Madrid, the best of the city has come to me-all around me to see and to imagine; I felt no real need to leave and go do something.

But, I did. The Golden triangle features the best of Spanish art and of course much more, each with a distinct niche. Whilst the Prado is awe inspiring in its show casing of Diego Velázquez, Francisco Goya and El Greco and houses Las Meninas (The Maids of Honour) possibly the second most acclaimed painting ever. The Reina Sofia focuses on the modern with an outstanding collection of Picasso and Dali and is very proudly the home of Picasso's Guernica. Mind you, they are very proud of it and be warned that they will simply direct you to it, even if you are only asking for directions to the washroom. The Thysssen Bornemisza, an erstwhile private collection delights with its eclectic selection of the smaller and less known works of famous artists. Collectively, it comes together very nicely and anything that I can say about the wealth of art to be found here will be inadequate. So I won’t do it.

During my stay, I also visit 'Puerto del sol', a busy city square with the campy tourist buzz of fake ‘Louis Vuitton’ handbags and ‘Dolce and Gabbana’ belts, the ‘Parque del Buen Retiro’ which means Pleasant Retreat and it lives up to the name. I enjoy walking the wide green boulevard of ‘Paseo del Prado’, get captivated by the beauty of the ‘Plaza de Cibeles’, catch a flamenco show and taste gazpacho, the only food that I find that that is Spanish and vegetarian. Then there is the usual thing like shop at ‘Zara’; well, this was a Spanish ‘Zara’. That is all I could manage in five days.

The streets here are incredibly wide and laden with greenery; then there are fountains aplenty and grandiose architecture is a leitmotif. The sun shines brighter, the sky is bluer, the air more ineffably promising than anywhere I have ever seen or experienced. I am sure I will come back to Spain.

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Politically speaking, the far right seems to be gaining in popularity and the feeling of xenophobia is on the rise, but Europe lets the traveller lead the good life. I eat, drink, shop and visit interesting places and I am not surprised that Europe is popular. I love the places I was going through and riding a train, sitting in an airport, sitting in a café, I experience these moments of just being blissful enough, when both the past and the future cease to matter, and only that moment exists-seemingly infinitely.

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Done