Food… and Some Aftertaste of Belarus

A rise of travel food shows is indicative of a renewed appreciation for culinary experiences to help visitors get in touch with a local culture. One day is not enough to treat yourself to a whole range of flavors and my Russian palette knew what to expect from the culinary scene of Minsk. Russians love the exquisite quality of the Belarusian food produce. People with a vague sense of nostalgia for the Soviet Union believe that it is due to higher production standards dating back to this era -in Belarus they seem to be complied with up to this day. Along with the search for linguistic and architectural symbolism, I started craving for a more tangible piece of the Belarusian national identity, i.e., potato pancakes (драники).

Even though this is not distinctively foreign food (it is a popular dish back home), in Russia we think of it as a staple of the Belarusian cuisine. This was why I was hoping to find these potato pancakes distinctively tastier here, in their homeland. I guess in that part of the former Soviet Union, or even the whole Eastern Europe for that matter, we all love our potatoes. But it is incredible how they offer enough culinary space for our distinct national identities. For a taste of Belarusian potato pancakes I decided to go to a traditional local restaurant in Independence Avenue that I had chosen based on the largely positive reviews.

This is where I had my potato pancakes (драники). By the way, the name of the restaurant is written in Belarusian, which makes sense

Its interior was adorned with traditional towels so I could enjoy another display of the country’s national identity. The waiters were also wearing national costumes. This place might have seemed like a tourist trap, but I could feel a genuine touch of our Slavic hospitality here. I had my драники served with мачанка(honestly I’d never heard this word before), which is a traditional Belarusian stew made with meat. On this somewhat chilly day pork ribs would be perfect for keeping me warm. I decided to wash the calorie-rich dish down with a glass of local beer. I remember tasting one of the best beers in my life here in Minsk six years ago. I have been to quite a few places since but very few beers I’ve had matched up (so far). When my perfectly Instagrammable dish arrived, I had to do what actually hurdles mindfulness – I took multiple photos of my meal to send home and posted one on my Instagram. I was on my own so the only way for me to share my excitement with a larger world was to disconnect from the one around. I couldn’t wait to give the food a try – my lunch was beautifully filling and tasty. The Belarusian national identity seemed more distinct now with those deliciously and uniquely made potatoes! The beer was OK, but I guess at that particular moment I didn’t feel like having another glass.

My elaborate architectural walk left me no time for a proper dinner – I could have tried the famous potato pancakes at another restaurant as virtually every place had them on the menu. All I had time for was to grab a coffee at a lovely place in Independence Avenue. I didn’t see as many coffee shops as I had expected in a place so close to the European Union, though. For my chocolate fix I popped out into a confectionery shop selling the produce by the Kommunarka Factory, one of the largest manufacturers of confectionery in Belarus. My Mum’s internship in Minsk was also in the food industry, but it was a bread-manufacturing enterprise. The sensual smell of freshly made chocolate made me imagine I was up for an ultimate Willy Wonka experience. I got a few bars for my family members and myself.

alenka-1000x1340 — I had to make sure I got this chocolate. It is a Belarusian twist on the legendary Soviet Alenka chocolate that every Russian knows well

There was also a coffee shop here and it looked very busy and somewhat chaotic. I was hoping to sit at one of these tables overlooking the night lights of Independence Avenue and reminisce about leisurely coffee breaks on my European travels as well as numerous conversations over a steaming cup with fascinating people on the other side of the Atlantic. Also, it would be another pensive moment enjoying being alone together and contemplate our own thoughts and ideas with some other solo visitors. But it wasn’t meant to happen as before I knew it, the last vacant table got occupied. I was still clinging to the hope of grabbing a seat while I was making my order of ginger hot chocolate and an éclair. While I was watching my hot chocolate being made, I was thinking of Christmas gingerbread till I could smell actual ginger being added to the mix. It jerked me back to my first cold days in the U.S. when a roommate suggested me eating ginger for my cold. Even though I come from a country which is known for extremely cold temperatures, up until then I hadn’t been aware of the medicinal properties of ginger. But while on the other side of the Atlantic, whenever I had similar symptoms, I forced myself to have some ginger tea. Here in Minsk my coffee experience was somewhat rushed as I gulped my steaming cup standing, which I wasn’t sure was completely acceptable. It would have certainly been in numerous coffee shops in the Penn Station area in NYC where I had my long-awaited morning coffees to give me energy after a commune into the City. For my cheese fix I checked out an airport duty-free store where I got some imported cheese from France, Poland and Lithuania at a very reasonable price – I think a few Russians lining up behind me did as well. As I had some time to kill before boarding, I had my final taste of the Belarusian food at an airport café. I had a sandwich with some locally made mozzarella that I washed down with another glass of beer. I grabbed a few bottles to bring back home as well. I spent my final hour in Belarus mindfully enjoying my food and beer and toasting the Slavic food and hospitality!

P.S.

Well, on this trip to Minsk I have accomplished my goals of contemplating the language(s), architecture and food, which I hope might give my travel writing a new direction. What I did fail though was to describe my adventures on a reasonable amount of pages – sorry about that! I guess at least it shows how one doesn’t have to go too far or be away for too long to come back home with a sizeable story to tell. Of course, it’s much more interesting to explore somewhere at least indistinctly different from home. The feeling of landing back in your bed after a day abroad is too surreal to miss out on!

As COVID-19 restrictions haven’t been lifted yet, a lot of us are now turning into storytellers engrossed in our own mix of memories. On May 9 I remembered Belarus again. This is when we celebrate the defeat of the Nazi Germany in the post-Soviet space. Due to the growing COVID-19 threat, the Russian government chose not to have a military parade to mark the 75^th anniversary of the glorious victory, meanwhile the Belarusian authorities decided to go through with the Victory Day celebrations. I don’t think I am not in support of either of these moves. It might have been difficult to find a way to handle this holiday which has such a “sacred” status in this part of the world- the costs we paid for this victory were tragically immense. But I have to admit that watching this parade in central Minsk being broadcast on a Belarusian TV channel made me contemplate not only our ongoing disagreements but also the shared history. Even though it was being celebrated under the red-and-green flag, it struck an emotional chord leaving me feeling happy that regardless of the global health crisis OUR victory has been honored… Our ancestors were strong enough to rebuild the country and at times renegotiate their own identities following the unprecedented devastation of what we refer to as the Great Patriotic War. I hope now we owe it to them to find a minuscule of strength in us to get back to normality. Once we do that, more travel stories will certainly follow…

Budapest (Day 4 and Goodbyes)

One more sunny start to our final “regular” morning here in the capital of Hungary. I was now aware of how much I would miss this lovely breakfast of a tasty selection of sausages, cheeses, and not to forget that divine-tasting triangle-shaped pastry that went down so well with the visitors that the waiters kept bringing more and more fresh supplies of those. My taste of our Budapest mornings is largely composed of this delicate sweet crispiness…

Before we headed out all the way to the conference venue where we were to participate in the poster session, we had some time for a morning stroll along the familiar area in the city centre. That was when it hit me obviously I hadn’t had enough pictures of me taken in front of St. Stephen’s Basilica around which there were preparations for what looked like a wine festival, and the Parliament of course. When does a point come when you actually get tired of this building that is imposed by your vision…?

The walk we were embarking on took me back to our first day here. It’s amazing how time takes on a different dimension while travelling and you don’t look that much at your watch (unless there is another activity on your schedule) but rather measure it with the level of connection you have developed with a particular piece of architecture, street or its corner… I felt if I had had more time on my hands to stay, it could be the right time to take my relationship with the city up to the next level, but there wasn’t much time either to keep reflecting as we had two hours left to get to the conference venue. This time we hoped the walk would be a bit more pleasurable, because we would be walking on the other side of the Danube along the Margaret Island (Margitsziget). It didn’t quite look like an island, rather an oasis of greenery amidst Hungary’s capital city.

Budapest’s largest park offered a great refreshing change of the scenery from our first walk along a row of dull residential buildings. Parks haven’t yet captured my heart entirely, as I am more fond of architecture and little electrifications of the heart and mind it sometimes provides. I can’t say I found something particularly extraordinary about this park, but I would say it was a relaxed and calm one to walk. People basking in the sun, children having fun, a water tower at a distance, some fountains in a few conspicuous places as well.

This walk felt considerably shorter and it wasn’t long before we reached the Árpád Bridge that was empty of any pedestrians as the sun was beating down. When we saw the conference venue, we knew we were already desperate for some shade.

The poster session was quite relaxed and low-key. Our poster featuring a photo of our country’s president captured some attention and being able to speak with a few native speakers and some more people from around the world was fulfilling. One lady from Malaysia wearing a burka was particularly friendly and that got me amazed at how much more there is we can learn from these casual encounters with people coming from cultural backgrounds that we are sometimes too scared to even embark on exploring. Speaking with a few Russians showing off about how they weren’t too happy with the hotel where we were staying wasn’t anything much to learn from.

We left the conference venue about two hours later knowing that our mission had been accomplished and there was no more need to look at our watch till the day was over! We decided to take a slightly different route back to the city centre and were exposed to some parts of the city that were a bit more upbeat than those residential areas we saw on our first afternoon but certainly less vivid and lively than the city centre. I wasn’t sure there were any more tourists walking along this neighbourhood. These streets aren’t something a tourist would particularly come for, but they make for a nice change of scene that you think you only arrive here for.

We even saw a couple of old-fashioned shoe shops as we were approaching the Margaret Bridge with a very clear and distinctive view of the Parliament. Just after we quickly walked past it was when it was decided we would let time take on another dimension and just pause here on a bench overlooking the Parliament that left no room for anything else except the clear blue sky and the Danube. Tomorrow we were to get on another flight back to Russia but for another adventure. I was so right to take time to get a visual memory of what clear blues skies look like… That had been great three days here in Budapest and it was about time we had started picking the memories back up expecting nothing new to come our way. Just to ponder on the sketchy memory of the country, the city and the conference… I felt I had reinforced my connection with the Parliament building as I was sitting gazing at it from across the Danube embankment.

What followed was more like a summary of the memories we had made up to that point. The grandeur of the Chain Bridge and the massive lions guarding it at both sides, a few posh houses overlooking the Danube on our right, a few advertisements featuring the national flag…

I was starting saying my goodbyes now as we were crossing the Chain Bridge – to the emerald blue Danube, to the Buda Castle on the right, to the Parliament that was growing smaller but no less spectacular on the left.

The evening was slowly setting in and it was time for our farewell dinner at one of the restaurants just steps away from the magnificent St. Stephen’s Basilica. The place was quite easy to find and the waiters wearing national clothes were very friendly and efficient despite seemingly limited command of English. The food was a bit too pricey and the choice not so wide-ranging, but the evening was the one to remember. A group of Americans at the next table were very vocal and assertive and kept questioning the waiter about the ingredients in one of the dishes pushing his linguistic skills to the limit as he showed up a few minutes later showing them some photos from the Internet. Poor Hungarian waiter! I ruled out that the first goulash soup I had here was the best and the one I was having at the moment had to be second best. What was equally divine was the Tokaj wine! Cheers to Hungary! Seeing the back of the shirt of one of the waiters that read something like “Are you hungary? I will help” made me chuckle. “Hungary” and “hungry” are too shamelessly similar not to feature that in an advertising campaign. There is something inherently primeval and not quite refine to the feeling of hunger but if you are, Hungary will get you covered for sure with its steamy soups and pickles! It was nice to watch a group of local young visitors and the same waiter at linguistic ease. Another American at the other side asked for help figuring out how much Hungarian money he had on him. Yes, these banknotes are tricky at first! We were taking it slowly so we walked leisurely back to the Chain Bridge to see the buildings lining up the Danube embankment lit up. There were even some chairs you could take and that reminded me of a beach. They were all occupied it being a warm summer night, but I didn’t mind sitting on the pavement getting my last night views of the spectacular Budapest. It felt comfortable and beautiful here.

We made a slow walk back to our hotel through the familiar streets to stop for a final round of drinks at the same place we did the night before. The waiter that miraculously caught my eye the other evening wasn’t working and that was a tiny bit disappointing, but the drinks were cheap and good. What would that be like to frequent a lovely bar like this in a modern European capital like this one… It was our last sleep here in Budapest. Our last morning here was serene and slow as we had enough time not to be in a hurry but not enough to go out any more. Exchanging a few glances and a quick chat with one of the cute waiters I had seen through my other breakfasts here gave me something extra to smile and to miss about this trip. My humble “köszönöm” as he took my plate got him thinking I was Hungarian. There has to be something magical about this word indeed! We spent the remaining forints on a few more souvenirs at the hotel lobby and made an elderly couple we encountered in the elevator a bit jealous. I kept smiling through our peaceful morning ride to the airport and at one point I saw a photo of Leonardo DiCaprio and his mother featured in one of the advertisement boards in a deserted field and that gave me a light-hearted chuckle. We were bound for Moscow, but that wasn’t it yet and that felt a bit strange.

It all seemed to have gone too quick but reasonably slow to realize it had happened to me – Hungary and its capital city of Budapest. I had no idea if I would ever return at any point. For all I knew, I was very highly unlikely to ever ponder on starting learning any Hungarian. But I didn’t fail to find what I came here for – a few more brisk memories to nurture my heart and mind. Köszönöm!

Budapest (Day 3)

Our second morning in Hungary started off very sunny and bright and that day was going to culminate with us heading to one of Budapest’s thermal baths for a very relaxing afternoon, a big steamy kiss of life to the mind and heart that is. We were in the city of spas after all and that was essential to get some physical evidence of that. Of course every place has something extraordinary to offer, it is all about how far you have to go in search for it. There was this steaming hot something dating back to the Ottoman rule here in Budapest that definitely added to a variety of things that tourists flock here for. In combination with the taste of goulash generously seasoned with red-hot paprika, the steam I was going to feel land elegantly on my skin would contribute to the magic of the flavour of Hungary that was in progress in my mind and heart.

We had another German-style breakfast at the cozy café with a distinct modern feel and some more news from Italy that we saw being watched by two male Italian friends and I was wondering what it felt like for them to see this tragedy caused by the recent earthquake unfolding in their beautiful country. In some ways their response must have been different from mine. We were in no rush that morning and could size up the streets surrounding our hotel, take a moment to look into the motionless but piercingly emotional eyes of the statues that found their permanent residence on all those graceful facades that were broadcasting a breath of Austria to the curious me.

We walked to the adjacent Elizabeth Bridge and could watch the sleepy yet sun-kissed Danube filling with boats carrying a few early birds. A few more grand buildings were stretching on our left and I could hear the sounds of waltz reverberating in my ears. It was nice to get a more intimate encounter with Budapest’s bridges now as we were making our way past the white Elizabeth Bridge to the green Liberty Bridge that we were to cross to get to the Art-Nouveau Gellert Spa that opened in 1918.

I could see it at a distance and on par with the emerald green Gellert Hill it looked like a setting for a futuristic film. I love the feeling that standing on a bridge gives me – seemingly rockety, perceivably free, free to observe the city stretching in front of my enchanted vision. In a way I loved having no view of the Parliament from where I was standing but only the Buda Castle on my left, there just seemed a bit too much domination for me.

I felt like pausing for a tiny moment to imagine I was in that music video I had watched the night before my departure. The walk seemed very short and pleasurable and we reached the hotel that radiated a graceful hint of the old-time Europe that we could get in touch with in nostalgic films.

Of course as someone who didn’t frequent baths, I was a bit nervous about how things were going to work out, where to drop off our things, etc. The lobby of the hotel with a magnificent cupola in the centre took my mind off these anxieties as I felt I was in a movie this time round.

We followed the queue, got our microchipped keys and eventually got inside the spa area to get changed first. Everything was pretty well organized so there was no hustle at all. We got stuck in a queue to rent a swimming-suit for my sister with a bunch of Italians that seemed to be frequent guests here as the signs here were translated into Italian as well. They certainly have more authority to compare the experience they were about to get with others they must have had back home. Do there have to be Italians whenever anything sensual is involved…? I was feeling the anticipation for something of this nature building up as water grants us this primeval yet uplifting feeling we get when we feel it touch our skin to produce a range of sensations. You really take to the whole experience like a duck to water as you go along and become less and less aware of walking around surrounded by a large number of half-naked bodies. There must have been something ancient and Roman about this scene, could that be something Italians gravitated to at the end of the day…? Here at the Gellert Baths it’s not just about the water that feels amazing as it comes in gentle contact with your skin, but it is the interior that lends the experience the opulent Ottoman feel. The walls, the statues, the mosaic flooring and the way they alternated as we went from one pool to another kept us focusing on nothing more than this particular gem of Budapest. A subtle smell of chlorine didn’t get much in the way of my mind and heart interpreting what I saw as sweetly romantic and sensually intimate as there were a few couples enjoying their getaway here. That must have been a nice choice as water has a certain bonding and spell-binding power as well. I was rejoicing and simply loving the atoms and molecules in my body relaxing into a serene calmness I could distinctively sense going down my limbs whenever I got out of another pool. The one with the water kept at the soothing and comforting 36.6 C⁰seemed to be most popular but we didn’t mind it being crowded. That was another opportunity for people-watching and speculating about where someone might be from just to turn it down a bit the moment another someone close by started speaking the same language as you. It was funny to see those seemed male visitors who were really worried about getting their freshly styled hair messed up with the water – something I would’ve never seen back home. As the water temperatures changed from one room to another, the feeling of being relaxed and invincible to any stress was so intense. I felt mine being cut into by knives that seemed to be piercing into my skin as I dipped into a cold small pool where I didn’t get much time on my own. To give a newly emerging sensation another twist, I got into a room with steam straight afterwards. Experimenting with one’s sensations turns out to be such an enticing game to play. Time does fly by when you are having fun and we decided we would round off our soothing afternoon by visiting an outdoor wave pool this place is famous for. The fact that there were too many people in there trying to get on top of waves that kept appearing from time to time seemed a bit of an issue now. But being inside this water under the endlessly sunny sky of Budapest showing its refined yet proud Art Nouveau side was marvelous and we might have been wise for choosing to have Budapest seem as a sensual resort to us that afternoon. We didn’t seem to want to change back into our clothes before leaving.

A few final photos in the imposing hotel lobby later, we bid farewell to the steamy Gellert baths and stepped outside to take a very relaxed walk along the Liberty Bridge again and get a few perspectives on it standing close to the Gellert hill. Even though there were signs that seemed to warn against trying to climb the top of the bridge, some people were trying a bit too hard for a few perfect photos. Rebellious nature in progress!

A few marvelous late afternoon views of the Danube later, we headed to the Great Hall Market, which was a very engaging object from the architectural perspective as well. What I’ve been learning through the course of my travels is that it is absolutely essential to experience markets to get a virtual or at least a mental taste of a new land. The market building had a certain Ottoman flavour and I imagined handfuls of the typical Hungarian paprika generously sprinkled all over it. It wasn’t long after we entered that we saw this product in abundance of packages on sale everywhere we could see. It was rather chaotic and full of things for tourists to take photos of. Tourism brings in great profits but what it obviously takes away is the authenticity of places and turns them into a sort of artificial showrooms. Too many people have been let on the “secret” of how to experience authenticity and that is what is almost gone as a result… It was actually great to walk here without thinking of what food to buy and what to cook with but just let your mind and heart do the work for you producing an idea of the taste of Hungary. After the steamy few hours at the Gellert Baths, what we needed badly was something to use to recharge our batteries with and we headed to the upper level where there seemed to be lots of places to eat. A typical eating experience here appeared to be more about filling your stomach with substantial food and you could expect the process to get a bit messy as well. Goulash, potatoes, a typical local sausage and a glass of beer were to happily fill my stomach in this quite rural setting that had black and white photos of senior Hungarian women dressed in national costumes going about their daily routine in what looked like a Hungarian village. In a way they reminded me of our “babushkas” that are hard-working, excessively caring, intrusive – either or all of these. But at the same time I should admit there was something “foreign” about those Hungarian ladies for me as I was staring at their faces eating my food. On my right I could watch a group of elderly tourists being given a very entertaining cooking class by one of the employees whose limited command of English didn’t stand much in the way of everyone having fun. It seemed a bit like a circus show but can anyone think of a better way to let people experience authenticity…? The goulash we had the previous night seemed a bit tastier than the one I was having but it was still good. We did some souvenir shopping afterwards, of course. The rural feel was still here as I saw lots of dolls wearing bright national costumes among stripes of paprika. For the moment Hungary and Bulgaria seemed to have something in common to me – that might have been the shared communist past or was there something more that dated back much longer…? That was another question my mind posed for me to try to ponder and possibly to work out someday. A Budapest-themed jar of paprika for Mum had just been bought – we could leave now.

As we had plans to go on a Danube cruise in the evening, we decided to take a walk along the entire Andrássy Avenue (Andrássy út) full of the Neo-Renaissance buildings, to get to the famous Heroes’ Square (Hősök tere) with the imposing statue complex featuring important figures in the country’s past. What it looked like in pictures rendered a Soviet feel with this vast space dominated by a massive statue shooting into the boundless celestial vacuum. Power and control paralyzing the view… We gave up on reaching the place without missing our late-night cruise. We passed by a few backstreets being looked at by some rough-looking male workers enjoying their break. It would be too much to refer that to the Soviet era, of course. But the way they looked reminded me of home…

As we started making our way to the Danube embankment, we couldn’t help finding ourselves in a street adjacent to our hotel. It didn’t quite make sense why we hadn’t got round to exploring those places that were really close by. Travellers can sometimes take pains to venture out a bit too far. A quite extraordinary fountain caught my eye. We sat in front of it watching pages of a massive book being turned by sprays of water…

I just loved this little corner and the feeling of little and simple happiness it was giving. There was something else waiting to fascinate me as we kept walking down this beautiful street – I knew that was where we were having our late-night dinner. Budapest didn’t seem too rich in male beauty (should I blame the communist past for that as well? Probably not!), but a waiter at a place across the road that I felt I was far enough from to take picture of was quite nice and I had no idea why he happened to catch my eye being so far. We had some time on our hands to pay a visit to the famous Café Gerbeaud launched by a confectionary dynasty in the late 19^th century. I ordered a wonderful icecream topped with waffles and caramel and a coffee here. It was another quintisential European experience to be sitting here people-watching and sipping on my coffee. We agreed it hadn’t been anything extraordinary but we can say we have been to this legendary European coffeehouse and even got a peak into the imposing interior. We passed by a few more restaurants on our way to the Danube that featured a few more nice waiters. We succeeded in buying our cruise tickets and had to hang around before our boat was ready to be boarded. It was 10 p.m. and Budapest started radiated rays of spectacular nocturnal beauty that myself as a night person was explicitly drawn to. There was a group of typically vocal and assertive Americans on board and before the tour started, I thought I had heard everything about how their first day in Budapest had been. The views of the Buda Castle with the funicular we had seen the day before were the starting point of the tour and I couldn’t wait to see the Parliament majestically sparkling its night lights on my right and I had a dim recollection of my feelings in the run up to seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time. It wasn’t obviously going to be my first time seeing it after two days in Budapest, but I hadn’t seen it exposed to me like this yet. It didn’t disappoint when it forced itself into our enchanted views! It had one of the Americans in awe when they said “I can’t believe Hungarians could have made this!” “Why not?”, I thought. The feeling of global supremacy Americans might show is sometimes irritating. All nations have had something to contribute to the world and Hungarians had the Parliament to show off of course. A bit further the boat turned back to enable us to get a view of the same attractions from another angle. The audioguide seemed a bit repetitive, but I loved the night and me being embracing it with my heart and mind.

About an hour later we got off the boat to walk back in the direction of “our” street where we were to have our dinner. The riverside was lined up with posh restaurants with folk music being played by people in bright national costumes. The view got me thinking about the red-hot paprika again. It was surprising to find the two Italian friends from our hotel posing for photos against the Danube in a crowd of other tourists. We finished the night with a few shots of pálinka at the low-key place with the handsome waiter that seemed to be frequented by locals. English wasn’t understood much, but miraculously we ended up getting what we ordered after both the handsome waiter and his colleague had had a discussion about what it could have been we wanted. The place was cheap and again not touristy at all, and I thought we were genuinely lucky to wrap up the day that started off really steamy here next to a few locals. Cheers to that! We had no trouble falling asleep back at the hotel. Our final full day in Budapest was one sleep away…

Budapest (Day 2)

Jó reggelt! That was my first morning in Hungary and it started with the view of the beautiful clear sky I saw through my hotel window. There is this sultry yet sensual element of carelessness to mornings spent at hotels as you expect to get things done rather than do them yourself as part of your daily morning ritual. As our TV was on to give us a quick update on the international news, before I put my contact lenses on, I had to squint my eyes to see a very tragic footage coming from the central Italy that had just been hit by a horrible earthquake that had left over two hundred people dead. The rescue operations were ongoing and it was really devastating to see those medieval streets, which would normally have this dolce feel about them beckoning you to come for sun-kissed skin, full of rubble instead. So many holidays have to have a flavor of Italy to them somehow, but that was one that wasn’t meant to be savoured at all. It was so bizarre to be leaving behind this bello country which is an epitomy of felicita and allegria, to enjoy this day in the sunny Budapest and being here in Europe made the news feel more acute and urgent. Down at the café where we were to have our breakfast, there were already people that seemed to come from all over the globe occasionally looking up from their plates to see the TV screen bringing the same news program. That was a nice substantial breakfast with a vague German feel to it as we were welcomed to treat ourselves to some sausages and eggs. Attempting to listen in on a conversation in German being had at the next table caused this flavor to be yet more pronounced.

That was going to be a day of exploring the city and we set out to get a comprehensive introduction to it by doing a free walking tour. It was getting really hot as we were making our way to St.Stephen’s Basilica picking up from the beautiful memories of sitting in front of it the night before. I love seeing major tourist sites transforming throughout the day and this place did seem to have a more brisk and vibrant feel to it as there were people crowding in front of the cathedral obviously for their tours as well. We weren’t the only having this day all to ourselves and not having to be suffocated by the same weight of the daily routine. We had some time to spare before our tour was scheduled to begin and to watch people creating a beautiful sense of the Italian “piazza” just basking in the sun and sitting on the stairs of St.Stephen’s Basilica. Our guide, an energetic young lady, introduced herself briefly telling about how the city that originally consisted of Buda and Pest and united in 1837. We were currently in the more modern Pest from where getting to Buda where this girl was working for an air company took her around 20 minutes. It is actually great to hear stories of ordinary locals to give you a quick reality check. I think being a tour guide is an amazing thing these people volunteer to do beyond their main jobs. Then we were asked to turn back to see the Fat Policeman Statue inspired by someone who was said to have had love for food and women (it’s a quite universal kind of love I think) and you need to rub his belly for luck in love and in finding hearty food to nourish your stomach with. None of us seemed to have any trouble with the latter as we were all in the city known for its hearty substantial food.

It wasn’t too long before we reached the spectacular Danube Promenade spanning from the Chain Bridge to Elizabeth Bridge offering views of Buda after we got some tips on the nicest bars to go to, things to try, etc. To me the view lent the city a subtle charm of a sea resort with lots of emerald green spaces dominated by the tall Liberty Statue on the Gellért Hill, the castle looming at the top and the Danube to match of course. Even with the Liberty Statue, an indication of the turbulent relationship between the Soviet Union and Hungary, in sight, there was no way a thought about the Soviet past we shared would have crossed my mind. A few luxurious hotels were lining up the embankment as well giving a perspective into the Budapest of the rich and famous who had stayed there at some point of their glorious careers. Now what I was mainly thinking of was soaking up in traditional baths, the smoldering hot heritage of the Ottoman rule, taking advantage of the city’s vivid and diverse history. Sitting on the railway here amidst all this royal-like beauty and splendour in the hot sun of Budapest was the Little Princess that is said to be one of the most photographed statues in the city. The sculptor got inspired by his daughter who used to love to dress up as a princess. That in a way summed up the way I for one felt walking here with the crown of knowledge and enlightenment that travelling gloriously poises on us leaving us with a dreamy-like sense of empowerment. The views of the Chain Bridge massaged my dreamy side with another gentle touch taking me to London for a tiny second. We were to cross it to get to Buda to see the castle.

It was getting scorching hot and we knew that might not be the most comfortable time to visit but as the summer was about to bid its farewell, being here amidst that Hungarian heat won us some more time before we eventually said our goodbyes to this season that invariably has a dreamy-like feel to it. We found ourselves at the other side of the Danube watching funiculars taking people all the way up to the castle hill. No thoughts of the Soviet past yet again… The sun was beating down as we were standing in front of the Sándor Palace, the official residence of the President. The Buda Castle with its amazing reconstructed dome matching the emerald shade gloriously painted by the Danube wasn’t given much attention to as it now merely housed the Hungarian National Gallery and Budapest History Museum. I thought the castle wasn’t much part of the national pride or that was me who expected it would be as I’m hugely drawn to castles in general for this sentimental yet grand feel of the past they provide. We could enjoy a majestic view of the symbol of the country, which is the Turul, a large bird of prey, spreading its wings against the capital’s clearest sky. A legend has it that this bird came to a woman in her dream and made her pregnant with a baby that went on to lead the Hungarian tribes to their new home. This having been said right here at this moment did seem a bit funny as “making love” to this bird was a bit too much even for a dream…

Anyway, I believe that the postcard views of the Parliament from up here made all of us stop questioning the credibility of the legend and let what we saw in front of us flirt and eventually seduce our vision to make us succumb to its charms. You want to take a while enjoying moments like this one when all the illuminating rays of knowledge and your expectations of it come together making it a moment to last in your memory.

But as we were in a group, we didn’t get a proper chance to as it was time to make our way further up to the Fisherman’s Bastion. Before we reached the snow white neo-Gothic and neo-Romanesque beauty that I was sure had to do with the Ottoman rule here in Hungary, after enjoying some views from more angles and walking an array of houses that rendered Budapest a bit different feel, we made a quick stop in front of the Statue of Andras Hadik, Hungary’s most famous hussar. They believe you have to climb up to rub the testicles of his horse for good luck and according to the guide, this is what a lot of students come here to do. This is truly what we need to grab our chances by indeed. The guide seemed a bit ashamed to be showing us how it is normally done and looked around her to make sure no one was trying to take a picture, but I can’t see why she had to.

We found the area to be home to a few lovely cafes and restaurants that seemed to offer a retreat from the more touristy part of the city. I felt part of something quintessentially international when I saw an Italian restaurant owned by Jamie Oliver, a famous British chef that I happened to see during another session of watching the British TV channels while embracing my innermost passion for media and journalism. I assumed that place would be a bit too “posh” and expensive to visit but it was nice to see it up and running here in Budapest. Another thing the city takes pride in is its confectionery traditions owing to the Habsburg rule. We were said that the cake that we saw displayed at the Ruszwurm pastry shop offering a new form of seduction to sweet tooths was the winner of “Cake of Hungary” competition that annually takes place on the state’s birthday on August 20 (just a few days before we arrived). That was a beautiful sweet representation of the national flag that we thought we might want to savour after our tour was over.

Straight up in front of us our eyes were treated to a marvelous view of the Matthias Church that seemed to have a bit of paprika sprinkled on its imposing Gothic façade. There are things we think we might get desensitized to while travelling and being repeatedly exposed to but churches will hardly ever make it to this list even for someone non-religious as myself. I love seeing the decorative representation of religion as an integral part of culture displayed to generate feelings and sensations of a varying nature. Some atoms and molecules were working their magic at that moment for me as well.

I could still feel them in progress as we made it further to get a closer look at the Fisherman’s Bastion that to me seemed to have a distinctive Turkish flavour to it even though in fact it didn’t. It’s a good thing I had no idea about that at the time because who knows if there had been magic happening otherwise… I felt as if I was a part of some Eastern fairytale invited to join the action climbing up and down to get the views of the city from different angles as were hundreds of other visitors. That was where our tour was to come to an end and that had been a really enjoyable one with a reasonable amount of walking and talking and there’s not much to satisfy a traveler. Well done to our guide!

As it was getting increasingly hot, we thought we might want to take a seat in the shade to take in the view of the Parliament that we were in a way becoming desensitized to. Or maybe we weren’t. That had to be part of the magic anyway. I remember getting a bit manic with my camera zooming in and out trying to find that perfect angle for my touristic lens. The views in front of my eyes and my camera were colliding into what would inadvertently be a beautiful and endearing memory of Budapest’s most iconic view. As we were enjoying our break, we got saluted by a cute fellow traveler who had just been on the walking tour with us.

We thought it was now time to recharge our batteries and get some lunch at one of the cafes where we could get a view of the Matthias Church as going all the way down to the Danube would take a while. We had a beautiful chicken and vermicelli served with the traditional Hungarian pickled cucumbers but the most incredible thing about that lunch was the famous Tokaji wine. I was getting increasingly aware and accepting of the preoccupation with this drink in some of the countries I had visited but none of the wines I’d had and was learning to keep a palate memory of would compare to what I was sipping on that sunny clear late afternoon taking in the view of the Matthias Church and people coming and going on my right. Here is a sweet toast to a lot more memories to make and treasure and to my new favourite! Having a favourite wine brand even if not being able to get hold of it at any time is comforting and anchoring against stress. A perfect meal has to finish with a dessert and for that we headed back to that pastry shop that had the nation’s best cake. Well, it was challenging and not really of any luck trying to explain what exactly we were after but I think we got something that looked like it after all. The Austrian feel was in the air and well steaming in our elegant coffee cups. Owned by a famous Hungarian confectionery dynasty, that place was very authentic and old in an endearing and romantic sense. I was definitely in need of more of that in my life. That’s one of these subtle little things that keeps me falling in love with Europe over and over again.

Having had our confectionery cravings gratified in that very refined manner, we started our way down to the Danube through rather deserted streets. The views of the Chain Bridge we had as we descended were the ones to let linger in our vision so we took a seat on a bench facing all the touristy action and guarded by two majestic lions peering in front of them at both ends of the bridge, I was having a refreshing drink. “Can I be in London just like that?” That thought was nothing of a surprise as this first permanent bridge across the Danube was designed by a group of British engineers. I had my travelling dream and ambition replicated for me and that was heavenly in all ways!

The walk across the bridge was yet even more impressive as we had the majestic views of the Buda Castle and its gorgeous dome on the right and the Parliament on the left. The Pest side was just as we left it a few hours ago bustling with people and a few luxurious hotel building lining the Danube embankment.

We walked left to get a closer look at the Parliament and soon found the Shoes on the Danube, a memorial paying a touching tribute to the Jews who were made to take off their shoes before they were shot and eventually fell into the Danube… That was a moment of grim silence and that was that tiny little bit we could do to stay connected with the past we weren’t in control of…

It was now time to take countless photos of the Parliament while properly marveling at its grandeur and beauty. The building designed to mark the 1000^th anniversary of Hungary in 1896 was splendid and arrested our views for impressively long. A talented architect does have some superpowers to enchant, mesmerize and fascinate. I was held in sheer awe trying to compare what I had gorgeously spreading in front of me and those pictures I’d seen of it. Some cars driving by seemed a bit out of place amidst this glorious piece of architecture that appeared like one from all different angles. On our left we had something no less mesmerizing to watch – the sunset over the Danube, a subtly romantic and charming scene.

It would have been even more so if we hadn’t had a pushy senior gentleman following us and saying something obviously incomprehensible to us. I had to have a little thought of the Soviet past we had to share somehow and I guess that only had to do with his age as he seemed someone who had had a fair share of communism in his life. Anyway, I thought right there in this spot with the lovely sunset and the side of the Parliament in front of us was the right place to call home and speak a bit in another language incomprehensible to some strangers here. For some reason we had the same nasty man approaching us again after it had been a while since our first encounter. That really agitated my sister and we crossed into the square in front of the Parliament happily with no sight of this horrible man. As perfect as the place seemed to be, our judgments of people can’t be so clear-cut at all. I tried to focus more on this beautiful area surrounding the Parliament with large flowerbeds. I couldn’t help noticing a couple walking by and a man cheekily picking up one of the flowers and presenting it to his female companion. I had no idea why but I thought about Italy the second time round that day… For all I know, he might have been Italian for bringing this charming bit of romance and spontaneity to this evening in Budapest. Transformations, manipulations in our minds and hearts – that is where they are sure to originate…

As if I hadn’t had enough, I had a few more photos in front of the Parliament to round off my time with it for that day because I felt a sinister Parliament overdose was impending!

We had a familiar walk through semi-deserted streets towards St. Stephen’s Cathedral and thought we might want to grab our drinks at one of the places recommended by the tour guide earlier today but the area was really bustling with people having fun as opposed to the one surrounding the Parliament.

That’s really the case with Budapest where you would find streets going from slightly uncomfortably deserted to incredibly and perhaps annoyingly bustling. My sister insisted we found somewhere quieter for our late dinner and that is how we ended up at a lovely place where we thought we could be offered a selection of local dishes. We just had to keep a bit off Váci utca, one of the main tourist streets in the city that we assumed would be overpriced. There weren’t too many people here and neither was the place empty. Looking for a place to eat has to be a bit intuitive after all. The famous Hungarian goulash soup had to be tried along with a shot of pálinka, a fruit brandy. It was amazing that we had our goulash served in a large paprika-red pan that was designed to look slightly overused. Some group of men having reasonably loud conversations and not worthy of giving any extra attention to while enjoying our unreasonably nourishing dinner matched the ambiance of this night filled with the juicy smell of paprika-rich goulash and the drink leaving the burning sensation in my stomach. That summed up my current feel of the country – a bit rough, spicy and conspicuous (inspired by the location of the eating place). We had a bit of a melting pot feel as well as we saw a man working at a currency exchange place putting a sign that read something like “It’s time for a prayer, I’ll be back soon”. Happily filled with food, we walked slowly back to our hotel where we took very little time to fall asleep after the wonderful substantial meal. There had been so much we’d done and as much as we are craving for more magic to unravel, sleep is an essential element to help it along. Jó éjszakát.

Nice. Jour 5

Bonjour! Our last quite regular morning in Nice started with some decisions to make on what to do that day. We could go to the neighbouring Monaco or spend the entire day exploring more of Nice. That was the opening day of the European Football Championship here in France and we thought it might get chaotic with traffic and we’d already been in the fairytale-like Monaco so we opted for a day here in Nice. Refraining to see the royal splendour of Monaco – just like that…

Place Massena had already got decorated for today and looked even more beautiful on that perfect sunny morning. I had another cheeky wet walk through the cascades in Le Jardin Albert-I seeing more locals casually strolling or reading newspapers. A beautiful morning in the South of France! We felt instantly part of it as we went to the Apollo fountain and realized that the world-famous Cours Saleya market we saw a sign for was just around the corner. In 1897 the first wholesale flower market in the world was opened here. Before we checked it out, we dropped in one of the shops along the coast selling some small gifts and perfume. Our noses were in need of a souvenir de Nice as well as our vision and mind as they nurture each other collaboratively.

After we’d dropped off our purchases whose enticing smells did a great job inflaming our sensations back at the hotel, it was time to see the market and breathe the smell of Nice more profoundly. Yes, there’s a post-office just at the entrance and I have a few cards to post! It was very interesting to do something locals would do and try my limited French that certainly gave me away but it wasn’t meant not to. The market itself was a life-size landscape blooming with overwhelmingly gaudy colours of flowers of all sorts. I wish I could get some to give Mum who is hugely fond of any sort or shape of floral elegance. I’d rather just admire them than make an effort planting them. The air was infiltrated with the smell of lavender that put a very romantically scented touch on the pile of my memories to inspire me to decorate my room in the Provence style.

That felt more like a morning of a character of some medieval novel going through their routine grocery shopping. Markets are immense parts of a local culture. Food on sale was plentiful as well. Apricots, apples, cheeses… I couldn’t resist trying a local speciality that has to be eaten here in Cours Saleya. That was typical street food of Nice called Socca – a hot pancake seasoned with paper baked on coals. The one I got was huge but my sister wasn’t willing to try it as well so I had it all to myself! It was very substantial as street food is meant to be! Being here made me wish I could once step out of my house, get myself to this market, buy some fresh ingredients from one of these people I would definitely know by now and cook something very nice back home. We love to dream while travelling! These Provencial dreams infiltrate our mind just as lavender does our senses!

We decided to get back to explore the largest Orthodox Church outside Russia that was here in Nice away from the city centre. For that we had to go back to the Avenue Jean Médecin and walk to the railway station (Gare de Nice-Ville). We stayed for one night in this area on our first time here. Of course this part of the city wasn’t too fancy and there were some suspicious-looking people walking by. It was a bit tricky to find this area and we could see more apartment buildings and obviously non-French people here. There were signs for the church but it wasn’t in our view. The afternoon was getting very hot but we kept walking this less attractive part of Nice. Eventually we did find what is actually now part of our country’s property and it looked so much like Russia. I knew I would be there the following day and wasn’t keen on that but I wanted to experience what it would be like to see it here. The Russian nobility had a good taste for holiday destinations. It was easy to be a patriot from here I guess.

There was a monument to Tsar Nicholas II and some more busts. It felt a bit cynical to be here for a Russian. We didn’t feel like entering the church as we would expect we would find a lot of fellow Russians there and might get some looks from them. This is what I find very oppressing about the Orthodox religion.

We just basked in the sun instead and walked back to Promenade des Anglais. We didn’t want any more homeland to this afternoon in Nice. We stopped by for another rest in a park with huge palm trees where my sister didn’t feel like staying long due to a group of homeless people nearby. Well, we were getting spoiled as back home we wouldn’t even take any notice of these people who weren’t being disorderly. Just around the corner we came across another reminder of Russia that was a grocery shop with a matreshka at the entrance. Our people are notorious for being bad at adapting to their foreign surroundings…

It was time for lunch. We went a bit extravagant and chose a place overlooking the Mediterranean. I ordered some gnocchi (dumplings) that I had been happy to try in Rome. We found a bottle of wine at the astounding 600 euros on the menu! The wine we were having that afternoon was a whole lot cheaper! It was a very pleasurable afternoon we spent watching people coming and going before it was about to get more chaotic in the evening. My sister took advantage of free bread they offer here and asked for a few helpings. It was quite challenging to catch the waiter’s eye (whom she found particularly handsome and I agreed) and we wondered if there had been anyone trying to leave without paying their bill as it was so easy to get lost just into the next corner. Was that something that crossed only Russian minds…?

Afterwards we sat a while at the coast and I was sad this time tomorrow I would be back home and there would be no more imposing view of the Hotel Negresco dominating our vision. We sat pensively playing with stones and throwing them into the sea as we watched a very caring father taking his older son (a future male beauty) for a swim. It wasn’t hot enough for that, but the boy didn’t mind and neither did he say anything when his father left him all alone to obviously take the younger boy to use the bathroom. We had to discreetly take a picture of this cute young man. A lot of these handsome men seem to make excellent fathers! We watched some more kids playing in the playgrounds put up to celebrate the start of the Football Championship and we had no doubt that the only loud child would be Russian and he was! They might need these handsome fathers that a lot of them sadly don’t have… As we kept walking, we came across our Belgian colleague with a suitcase in his hand and he instantly recognized us. He would break a lot of hearts back in Russia…

We went back to the hotel for a bit to refresh as the streets were getting filled. In the elevator we came across another male beauty I wish I had been far enough to take a photo but he was just too close in this tiny isolated space. It’s a shame I couldn’t broadcast this image to people back home – they would be very jealous! They would be anyway if they knew how much handsomeness I had been exposed to throughout the course of my stay here in Nice. I’m very skeptical of people saying that looks don’t matter that much. In Russia it sounds more like a consolation as one might end up single forever (which is deemed as a major failure in our country) if they make this a prominent criterion in choosing a partner. But what is wrong in wanting beauty in your life – just seeing a smile on a handsome face is enough to light up the soul with that flirty life-boosting spark! Humans crave and thus gravitate to beauty in all of its shapes and forms. I guess girls like myself who have very handsome fathers and their romantic and sensitive minds from them tend to romanticize male beauty. So excusez-moi if there have been too many accounts of niçoise males on this trip. This is one thing I’ll always be on the lookout for even when I’m old and grey as those ladies I saw at the restaurant the day before (as long as my eyes can see and my soul get inflamed).

As we got back to the promenade area, we thought it was a perfect time to climb the Castle Hill (Colline de Chateau) and the adjoining Castle Park (Parc du Chateau) and get a closeup of postcard views of Nice showing the Bay of Angels (La Baie des Anges). That was a rather sweaty walk up but we kept stopping to get different perspectives on the view and each time what we saw was purely splendid! There is no more castle here as it was destroyed in 1705 as ordered by Louis XVI. The view I got took my breath away and stole a huge segment of my memory to be stored there forever! Wow! We were about to take a picture of us here when we saw a man rushing towards us. We thought something was wrong but he turned out to be eager to take a picture of us and thought we were English!

As we went down, we saw French people waving national flags and getting ready for the game. We decided we would stay in the beach and hear the reactions from there enjoying our pique-nique of fruit and wine. There were so many airplanes in the sky that evening and I was standing with my feet in the water watching one gliding by – romantique! France won that night and we did get to watch the final minutes of the game on a large screen in Place Massena and I got joined by a French man providing very emotional comments and the only thing I understood was a French swear word and something we would call “core vocabulary”.

As I was finishing on my sister’s sandwich, I got a few looks from people in a festive crowd and admired watching a group of young men admiring young girls walking by – that’s what it was originally supposed to be and all got twisted in the process. I was high-fived by a guy in the crowd and it was fun! No one got disorderly and the police presence was very significant. I couldn’t get enough of our final night here. I’d got used to hanging out in this squire every night sipping on my coffee and people-watching breathing this revitalizing Mediterranean air… I congratulated the hotel receptionist and his handsome friend on their win! It’s amazing how sport brings people together. I miss you already, Nice! Bonne nuit!

Nice. Jour 4

Bonjour, le beau monde! A pretty sunny day and a boat ride to the Île Sainte-Marguerite to present our report was waiting to inspire us to enjoy our everyday life dotting somewhere a few days ahead. A repetitive breakfast menu was très bien for us as per usual. We were to walk again to the port to embark on our voyage to where we’d already been lucky to be as part of our coach trip to Europe. The largest of the Lerins Islands, this island was famous for its fortress where Man in the Iron Mask was imprisoned. It was about an hour’s boat ride from Nice. We got there just in time to find our American friend already there. Another nice conversation in English added more confidence to the morning. It turned out we had forgotten to pick up our poster from the conference venue! Well, luckily, we had some kind soul pick it up for us – people seemed incredibly helpful here! We quickly got on our beautiful boat and got ready to get up close and personal with the Mediterranean sliding through its gentle waves with azure here and there – everywhere! We took a comfortable seat to enjoy “the performance” and were a bit later joined by an Italian! Bene! We spent the entire ride talking (I wish I had brushed up on my very limited Italian back home) about Rome (his home city) and how I was in love with it after a bellissimo week I’d spent there. Travels offer so much to talk about and make connections! We even happened to have the same favourite places in the belle Italian capital! Some of my stereotypes of Italy were actually reinforced and others dismantled. You can’t escape Italy while in Nice, can you? It’s walking right here behind you in graceful strides (probably in a pair of stilettos)! I could notice a bit of a fashion show on my right as I saw the famous Breton stripe worn by the owner of the brown eyes to make me release a sigh of admiration. I was speaking to an Italian looking away to take in the handsomeness of a French! Me! A Russian girl! The sun was beating down, but I couldn’t take off my light jacket as I had got a sunburn the day before during our jaw-dropping coastline walk. Azure, azure, azure! I remember you and I’m looking!

I was able to recognize these soothing views as we started approaching the island. That was where I had my first dip in the sea three years ago! What a coincidence! Little did I know I would ever get here again but with a different agenda! As we were walking up the hill to the Maritime Museum where the conference was to be held surrounded by the smell of eucalyptus and the sound of birds singing (that was exactly what my memory preserved as a souvenir of the place), I stroke a chat with that female British professor from Birmingham. She was all smiley with a rucksack on her back! I wished her luck for her key speech a bit later on. I was astonished at how approachable and down-to-earth Western professors are! She seemed genuinely happy to talk to someone like me. And of course the American professor found us too to continue our chat! Before the opening report by the British professor, we had a while to stroll the area. It looked so deserted and calm and we could see Cannes in the distance. Belle is the word! A bit rural with casual workers in their overalls but very clean and beautiful!

The room where we were seated in the Maritime Museum felt damp and about halfway through the British professor’s speech I found myself nodding off even though I was interested in her talk. She joked that everyone must be looking forward to the aperitif. Before we had a chance to enjoy it, we were all taken to marvel at the views of the Mediterranean from the lookout tower. Splendid!

We have the apéritif waiting for us and we walk to a lovely court in the shade for that. Are they serving us home-made sweet wine? I have to love whoever made this one! As one of the organizers saw me with a glass with ice cubes, he came asking me to add a few to his wine. He was so immaculately dressed in an elegant straw hat that I was afraid to leave a smudge on it while I dip in his ice cube into his glass. We carried on our chat with the American professor who seemed to love our company a lot. I was wondering what our English felt to a native speaker. Emotional talks are most engaging and it’s fascinating how when it gets to a point when something concerning your country comes up, you seem to start losing control of your English as some profoundly lingering emotions start coming into play compelling us to call potatoes “our second bread”, referring to “a vegetable garden” where we grow them, etc. We can’t rip our national selves apart from whatever languages we choose to speak. The lunch itself was very tasty with a selection of potatoes, rice, roasted meat. As I stood up from my seat to get another helping, I felt a bit dizzy, which made me aware that I must have helped myself too much to the wine and I had a report to make afterwards. It was in fact a combination of the wine, the scenery and our conversation that got me tipsy in the first place. We all got so relaxed that the last thing on everyone’s mind was listening to more reports. Finally, it was time for some cheese that we had served with more fresh meat. I just adore cheeses and those were homemade! The American tried to have a discussion about their origin with people serving the tables and needless to say, he failed to do that as none of them seemed to have any command of English. I managed to talk to the female British professor more and she asked me if my students used corpora for our classes as she was one of the leading specialists in corpus linguistics. Well, I was happy she had no idea what kind of students I mostly have to teach…

It was finally time to make a presentation and our American ami was the one afraid to miss the action as he was to make one as well. I was happy to be able to get the owner of the brown eyes solve some technical issues. There was a lineup of reports, some in English, some in French. When my turn came (the American professor actually introduced my report and even made an effort to pronounce my family name), I was slightly nervous but strangely enough, I felt very inspired and bewilderingly confident as I was presenting my report which I started with a little introduction in French. That was another combination of factors that contributed to this feeling arising in me. I wasn’t presently in Nice that is named after Νίκη, a Greek goddess of victory, but I felt so victorious! We all need something and someone to give us wings to levitate! Why on earth can’t I feel like this back home? I have yet to figure out whether it was me preventing myself feeling the way I did back then on a daily basis or the environment which certainly has a certain impact on what we are. We had a few discussions with other participants during the poster session. Everyone seemed incredibly laidback and friendly. Is science that intimidating? We made acquaintance with the guy we were too shy to join for lunch our first day. He was a PhD student from Belgium and was very nice! One doesn’t have to be a nerd to be a scientist. I certainly have the environment to blame for my twisted perception of science. Our awkward poster attracted some more attention. When the session was over, we folded our poster and made it outside to take a brief stroll before our boat was due to arrive. It was getting menacingly cloudy and we didn’t walk too far. It was such a solitary and peaceful place which was the last I had expected to visit again. Tall trees, green grass to sit on and watch the sea and hear more French conversations. That was a perfect retreat for someone visiting Nice.

Before we embarked on our boat, we had a quick chat with the British professor who now knew about my cherished dream of visiting London. That was his first time visiting the island and he was amazed it wasn’t for us. My sister had forgotten her jacket in the venue and it was after we had one of the organizers chasing us with it that she realized she had. Soon after we’d embarked on our boat, the sky was about to burst into loud tears of rain.

The sight of the owner of the brown eyes lovingly and admiringly peering into the Mediterranean with a French flag waving in the background was able to amaze even my sister. Handsome men certainly belong here to match the surroundings! The grey skies finally culminated into a pouring rain. Here we were in the storm in the Mediterranean!

My sister feared she would catch a cold as we only had our umbrellas that we could barely keep from being blown away to keep us dry. It wouldn’t stop raining when we arrived back in Nice. I caught sight of the owner of the brown eyes lending his umbrella to a lady…. Yes, people seem to match their surroundings. The rain stopped before we reached our hotel but the wet streets were almost empty. My sister was feeling hungry as unlike myself, she didn’t get to eat much throughout our conversation with the American professor due to what she called “an excessive cognitive load” she had to deal with struggling to speak English over such an extensive period. Obviously, we did have to stay inside in the next few hours and it was already an early evening so we thought we needed to choose a place for our meal. I changed into my warm Breton stripe blazer for the night. We went to the same restaurant we went to on our first evening here. All the diners were inside now that it had just been raining. The interior of the place was splendid and bohemian. We asked the same waiter who served us on our first ever meal here in Nice to recommend us some wine and that was the second best wine I’d tried here. We were actually done with the conference now and decided to use our last full day here on our own instead of trying to find Université Nice Sophia Antipolis Université where the last session of the conference was to be held. It was getting sad to be leaving so soon… The amazing and huge portion of mussels I got made parting with Nice seem too early to ponder. A group of senior ladies and a gentleman were seated at the next table and were loving their meal as well. I always admire how older people I see on my trips are capable of enjoying their time travelling and making retirement seem such a leisurely thing to finally do whatever you never got to do before you retired. When they asked the waiter “What music is playing?”, they summed it all up for me – retirement doesn’t have to be about having your children and grandchildren at your back begging you for any kind of help or begging your children to give your grandchildren to give your life back its worth. It’s about the older but wiser you enjoying small things in life like this wet evening here in Nice over a glass of fine food and wine… I taught my sister how to ask for the bill in French and hearing her say “L’addition, s’il vous plaît” put a genuine smile on the waiter’s typically French face. “If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.” I totally agree with Nelson Mandela on this…

We went on our late-evening promenade taking a different path to the Promenade des Anglais to see more of the backstreets of Nice and ended up in a sounevir shop that was still open. I couldn’t help getting a little painting of the iconic view of the Hotel Negresco and holidaymakers casually strolling. I collect these small paintings endearingly to shake up my visual memory when it’s too blurred by my everyday reality. It was a wet walk along the sea and it was rather chilly. The moist air made the smell of fish at some of the restaurants, which took us back to Varna, even more beckoning…

There were people enjoying their meals, entering some clubs. As we were walking by one of the dining places, I saw a very beautiful young couple dressed perfectly and looking so romantic together. I wish I could have them on a painting to put up in my room to remind me that romance isn’t dead… We walked some more around the Opera Theatre area (Opera Nice Côte d’Azur) admiring the French style and beauty and Eiffel Tower toys in the window-shops. We end the night near the Apollo fountain watching more beautiful people. May tomorrow be pleasurable and long! Bonne nuit!

Nice. Jour 3

Another “Bonjour”! But as travels do have this miraculous power to transform, this one had a more dreamy edge to it and at the same time it was more assertive as we were really accommodating to the ville and the feelings it was so subtle and gentle in producing. We did need more temps to relish the dreamy embrace of our niçoise sleep and we got this chance when we had decided to skip the early conference sessions that were in French anyway. So that added a slightly cheeky to our late morning. More mornings – more transformations…? The breakfast was the same again and the croissants and the coffee were equally bien.

We had a walk all the way to the hotel where the conference was taking place and we tried to time it properly to be there just in time for the report by the British professor we were honoured to meet the day before. The city was very tranquil and slow but now this apparent sleepiness seemed to have a less dreamy edge to it and we had our business to attend to again. We were enjoying this “busy sleepiness” after all as we were walking through Promenade du Paillon with its water-shooting cascades and a huge sign reminding us of the Euro 2016 coming up just two days later! Theatre National de Nice right was in front of us and I’m already in love with these typically neoclassical Italian red ochre buildings with green shutters on my right, Nice Cathedral (pronouncedly Italian) on my left, they were a mixture of dreamy and assertive for me and in a weird cosmic way they seemed like me as well! My fashion choice was azure for the day though and it would be dead easy to assume where this inspiration came from. That was the art of adapting at work! A very typical sharp yet serene sound of a typical tram in Nice that got me scared the first time I was here three years ago. Had I actually been here before? I wasn’t quite sure apart from the fact that I remembered where the supermarket was (that came very handy indeed). That was a completely new feeling with the city and definitely a more involved and intimate one.

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Off we step into Place Garibaldi and mentally make another courteous wave to the neighbouring Italy. There are all types of people walking by, happy and not very much so, but generally they seem more cheerful than back home. We didn’t have much time to take wrong turns as pleasurable as that would have been. We did have time to enjoy the same bougenvillas from the previous day and just marvel at this morning landscape we were essentially part of.

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Port Lympia with its mountainous scenery gave a slightly different feel to what looked more like an exquisitely executed painting rather than someone’s reality. I remember this sight from my previous time here and how it seemed to make a sharp contrast from the Old Town but this time round it appeared to provide a perfect addition of the azure scenery. Is that us walking this gorgeously amazing area with real people drying their laundry and having conversations in the street…?

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We arrived just in time for the talk by the British professor. We joined in the rest of the participants in the backyard area for some coffee and were lucky to have a chat with the professor himself. I told him about my dream of visiting London and how challenging it was to make it happen and by the looks of it, he seemed too overwhelmed to even feel sorry about that… He complimented my English and that gave me such a huge boost that I really wasn’t sure if I could succeed in accommodating all these happy feelings inside me without letting them slip into the azure space. My aesthetic senses were nurtured by the same male beauty I caught sight of across the backyard showing off a more casual but equally enchanting outfit. Yes, I did some research the day before and found out that was a scientist! Is that a dream with too much going on in it? Dreams don’t tend to be so elaborate and therefore we forget them while we still feel a recently interrupted sleep lingering on us. I wasn’t going to let that slip – ever! The British professor whose accent was charmingly flowing thanked us for stopping by and making his nerves better. I was really humbled by that – who was I for him to be thankful to…? He had no idea about my tentative relationship with science but here it seemed like a holiday romance passion that no one cares to go into explaining and speculating about, it’s just there to be captured by the soul and body or at least either of these… There were more people willing to talk to me as well and that gave a renewed hope of being able to strive to belong somewhere I was too shy to set my foot. I was starting feeling unwell again from the cold I’d caught back in Moscow and the heat of the early afternoon started getting into me as I was sitting listening to the British professor giving a talk about his study of lost languages. I just couldn’t let this stupid cold prevent me from making the most of the moment I had no idea would ever arrive!

This time lunch was to be served in a stunning terrace overlooking the Mediterranean – yes, just like that! That was a casual buffet lunch that offered a selection of beautiful seafood. We made sure we got our table and after I came back with some roasted ostriches and sandwiches (trying hard not to get hold of too much), I found my sister talking with another British professor who was to give her report the following day. I smiled at the sight as my sister and her looked like a hunter and a prey respectively! This way my sister made sure the company would be nice and that’s even more important than the food! Just before we knew, we had the American professor I had a conversation with the previous day rushing to our table to join us! That was a sign for me that the talk we had didn’t bore him! Nice! So that was going to be the four of us here in the basking Mediterranean sun they had to put up a shield to protect us against while we were deeply engaged in our conversation and the azure sea on the right! For an instant, different social and educational backgrounds didn’t seem to matter to me! And yes, as the American professor mentioned, Corsica wasn’t quite too far! We talked about the origin of our family names, our countries’ policies and the American was certainly the most vocal about that with his sunglasses over his eyes! The British lady was very courteous but friendly sipping on the tea she had brought in a thermos. What a divine cultural and linguistic practice for me! We were the ones most engrossed in our conversation and we had forgotten about the food and when I went to see if there was any left, there certainly wasn’t… It’s a shame because the seafood was the best ever even though I’m not a fan! Well, at least the conversation made up for that and made me yearn to get beyond the boundaries of my homeland. Travels have this victorious edge to them!

We were too elated and a bit hungry to stay any more so off we went along the endlessly azure coastline! I felt a bit like on my first day here but this time I felt like peering into this most beautiful meaningful azure emptiness of the Mediterranean to get it imprinted on my vision forever! That was such an effortless thing to do! We went down to the beach and saw some people sunbathing. I’ve never seen so many shades of blue even though I’d already been here! They were certainly worth coming back for! I think even my sister got that sentimental and dreamy feeling as we posed for some photos getting a few looks from some men who seemed just too young!

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I was overwhelmed with how much I loved my sister for making it possible for us to come here! Another too belle to be true moment to experience for us! It was getting too hot and that stopped us from going up to the hill and getting some views from there. Instead, we ended up in a gorgeous park offering spectacular views of the coast. Does anything have to be said to this…? I’d already forgotten about feeling slightly unwell and I knew I would when treated to THE view! Another overwhelmingly serene moment of being content to be alive sitting on that bench overlooking the Mediterranean! I’m actually happy with words failing me in my recollection of the moment…

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We walked back to the Port enjoying a few more lovely views on the way. We were desperate to get something to eat and found a low-key place with a wonderful view. We opted for the plats du jour which was a very nice deal. We were brought a large plate with a seafood salad generously sprinkled with olive oil, which I noticed was a typical thing to do here. We were craving for some champagne which ended up costing us just as much as the meal including a huge tiramisu (which literally means “lift me up” in Italian) that originated in the House of Savoy that used to rule Nice before it was taken over by the French. Well, life’s too short and with a victorious feeling shooting through our veins we needed champagne to top it off with! Cheers to us and the view on the right! Tiramisu if I’m dreaming!

After about an hour of this very reposing and relaxing meal, we made it back to the hotel and it was getting cloudy again. Another walk to the Old Town through the port looking a bit menacing against the grey azure sky brought us accidentally into a church overlooking the port where we stopped by for a while. L’église Notre-Dame-du-Port gave me another oddly spiritual experience I was craving for remembering those I had in Italy and Bulgaria. The church was deserted and being inside and taking a moment to look into the statues’ faces was magical!

As we walked a bit more till we reached Place Garibaldi, it started raining. Here at the junction of this area with the Old Town Nice felt a bit more like an ordinary city with people doing their shopping, getting on a tram.

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It was until we reached Nice Cathedral and saw a mostly wonderful typically Southern things – orange trees with actual oranges hanging on them! That had to be one of the highlights of that trip! I was standing here in the rainy Mediterranean sky and looking up at these beckoningly beautiful oranges that were too high to reach out to! I felt a kid in me wishing I was tall enough to touch them! I was astounded and didn’t mind the rain dripping to land on my skin. These oranges were no less indicative of the relaxed Southern lifestyle than the Mediterranean itself! We kept walking through Le jardin Albert– I, Nice’s oldest public garden and admired some Italian statues here. We made a short cut to the hotel and stumbled across another Italian place we thought we might visit later.

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As we got home, we couldn’t wait for the rain to stop. In the meantime we watched some TV and I admired how some men I saw there were just as handsome as those I’d seen in the street! It stopped raining just as abruptly as it started and took us back to the rue along the shopping street of the Avenue Jean Médecin, Mayor of Nice from 1928 to 1943, till we reached Basilique Notre–Dame de Nice, the largest church in the city. That was something characteristically French and magnifique! I took my time to peer into the characteristic rose windows of course!

There were a few construction sites nearby and just around the corner we saw what was recommended as the best crêpe place in Nice (the French equivalent of a pancake) but it had already been closed. After a bit more promenading that we were getting increasingly good at, we ended up walking not far from the Hotel Negresco and got some wonderful fruit (as we couldn’t get those oranges in front of the Nice Cathedral that I fell in love with) from a dodgy Chinese grocery. They were gorgeous! More contemplations, reflections about that talk with the American and British professor and how I could possibly make a change and find that missing piece. We spent a few hours here not saying much just peering into the French sky…

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Back at Place Massena where we came for the daily portion of people-watching, we were a bit ashamed by our national character as we heard a group of fellow Russians singing the famous wartime song “Katyusha” being the only disorderly crowd in the square. This song alone is capable of generating a contagious burst of patriotism. Why on earth do they have to make such a disgrace of themselves singing it and thus drawing the police attention as the security was tight in the run up to the Football Championship. Another bunch of ugly drunken faces… No, I wasn’t feeling homesick at all! They wouldn’t keep it down even after the police warning and as it would be back home, there was soon a group of Russian women trying to flirt with them. No, let’s forget about that and walk a bit further not to get this lovely evening interrupted! Well, of course Russians would always spot each other in a crowd and we knew we would be asked by these ugly guys as we walk by why we didn’t join in their singing… We didn’t bother to answer. We ended the night with a cup of café in our hands away from the disorderly Russians. We were to make our report the following day! Bonne nuit!

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