Turning Thirty: the first world and modern age made up crisis tailor-made for everyone. One might even call it the prelude to mid-life crisis; or so I thought.
As a teenager, I remember having a certain vision for myself. I was carefully conditioned by societal tendencies and pop culture to follow a certain path and make sure I checking all the “right” boxes along the way. While on the one hand, I used to pride myself on being non-conformist, on the other hand, little did I know, my unpredictable tendencies also had a stereotypical undertone, quite subtly, but firmly embedded! And as I approached the first of many daunting milestones, in my own “non-conformist” way, I was freaking out.
A year and few months since, having settled into the comforts of the 30s, I find myself, surprisingly calmer with a weird yet welcomed clarity. I began my 30 something journey with a resolve to checking the boxes that I wanted to check, and not the ones I thought I was supposed to. And so came the dream of my Solo Euro Trip!
It all began with an idea, albeit romanticised to the point of barfing, but it did nonetheless inspire. The task seemed mammoth and almost unreal. Although I have been blessed with a wonderful set of parents who are open minded, liberal, extremely supportive and encouraging, but traveling alone was something that just never came to any of our minds, let alone being okay with actually letting me go solo. Trips had always been about family or friends; going alone (excluding exchange programmes) never needed to be an option. Having said that, as I sat down with my folks to discuss my grand plans, unsurprisingly, I was met with enthusiasm and excitement (along with some not so subtle, “I also want to go on a solo trip” assertions).
Thus began the planning stage.
As much as the trip itself was everything I hoped it would be and felt life-changing, the run up to the trip itself was exhilarating and empowering!
“This is my trip!” Four words that echoed through each decision. And that is exactly why I chose not to use any packaged tour or agent for the entirety of my trip. Armed with the latest Lonely Planet books, the ever so trustee internet, along with flight and hotel booking portals, I set out on carefully and minutely charting out my solo adventure. Flipping pages after pages, and shuffling through review after review, going back and forth between potential bookings and checking locations and distances on the map, I made sure I had everything planned.
After three months of impatient yet meticulous planning, there I stood, at the boarding gate for my Business Class KLM flight (I never said that this trip would be budgeted), ready to embark on my first ever solo trip. After a 8 and a half hours long, luxurious and relaxing (yes flights can be relaxing) flight, I arrived at my first destination: Paris.
PARIS: The beginning
Interestingly enough, when I began planning for my trip, the first, the second, and even the third tentative itineraries did not figure Paris in them. It was partly because I didn’t wanna be the typical tourist and land up at all the pop-culture inspired “touristy” destinations on my first Euro-trip; and partly, it was because Paris was not among my top 5 places to visit in Europe. Be that as it may, after several permutations and combinations, including the fact that the return ticket combo for Paris suited me the most, I found myself in la capitale de la France, Paris.
Since I knew, I had to return to Paris eventually, I planned my itinerary in way that I spend only 1 day in Paris to begin with, and thereafter end my tour with a spread out 3 day excursion, to ensure no ‘missing of flight back home’ was even remotely possible. Scurrying through the airport, collecting my baggage, I made my way to the arrival lounge, booked onto a bus taking me closest to my hotel, dragged my not-yet-bursting-at-the-seams suitcase and arrived at my hotel. While I chose not to go AirBnb and instead book hotels all the way, I didn’t go overboard and suitably managed to find 3-4 star hotels for adequate comfort. Efficiency was my motto; rather efficient yet luxurious.
Anyway, I digress. Checked in, and freshened up, I scurried once again, making my way to what people from all over the world come to Paris for: Le Tour Eiffel, in all its magnificent glory!
To be honest, I was expecting a cliched over-sized structure, which people, for the lack of anything better to do, swoon over endlessly, without reason. But I was in for a pleasant surprise. All the sonnets in the world do not do justice to the magnificence of this soaring metal masterpiece. From a distance, the Eiffel looked like a simple tower, just as it appears in photos and on TV. But as I traced the path to its foot and looked up, I couldn’t help but gasp at its beauty and elegance. I was in love with this metal giant.
After spending a good portion of my day picnicing in the garden, onlooking the Eiffel, with my lunch, I leisurely strolled over to Champs Élysées, all the while breathing in everything Parisien. Despite my extrovert personality, I found myself a little hesitant and reserved, perhaps also because I was too overwhelmed with everything around me. I was actually there!
Rounding up my day with a light dinner, and tripping over the super late sunset, I prepared myself for my onward connection for the next day.
When traveling through mainland Europe, ask anyone and they would recommend commuting by train; and my travel plans were no different. A short taxi ride from my hotel to the train station, I was ready for a rail experience.
What never ceases to amaze me about places like Europe, is the countryside. This is something I was in complete awe of even when I had visited England several years ago. The countryside is so pristinely beautiful, just like a Charles Dickens novel (pardon the lack of a French reference). French countryside was no different and I was suitably engrossed throughout my 3 hour journey to my second stop: Dijon.
DIJON: Pour l’amour de la Moutarde
Choosing Dijon as my second stop was easy. In hopes of experiencing the road less travelled, away from the maddening crowd of a cosmopolitan city like Paris, quaint little Dijon was an ideal choice. It also figured effortlessly for my next destination, but that I will elaborate upon in the next part.
Dijon is synonymous with mustard, and this little town south east of Paris is certainly brimming with this delectable condiment. However, my tryst with this town began on a slightly loose wicket. While booking my hotel for Dijon, I had found for myself a charming traditional French style B&B. The check-in time was however listed as 5pm, which seemed odd, but I thought, I could just leave my luggage at the conceirge and check in to my room at 5. Making my first rookie mistake and not crossing checking in advance, I found myself standing in front of a locked door, with no one to answer the bell. I just stood there, staring at the empty street on a particularly hot day, contemplating my next move.
I was to stay in Dijon only for a day, and supposed to do all my sightseeing within those 24 hours. I couldn’t have possibly done so dragging my luggage around all day. I had to come up with Plan B! And thats when I decided, I would walk back to the city centre, where I had seen some hotels on my way, and just take things from there. A short phone call to my mom asking her to check for room availability online, while I made my way, suitably put Plan B in motion. By the time I reached my new home for the night, the lovely Grand Hotel La Cloche, a quick last minute cancellation of my prior booking was all set. With a confirmation of my stay, I made my way to my room to dump my luggage and with an added perk, began my Dijon experience with a room balcony view that did not disappoint.
The best part of Dijon for me was not its finger-licking mustard, but it’s warmth and hospitality. Growing up, pop-culture tends to condition us to believe that the French are generally snobbish. However, two days in, and despite a small hotel faux pas, my experience with the French had been delightful. Whether it was my overly enthusiastic Hotel Conceirge, or the photobombing server while I enjoyed my scrumptuous dinner in some corner of this town.
“Follow the owl” he said! Before marching out to explore the city, I wanted to make sure that I checked in for some “local” tip on what I should not miss. To my delight, I was introduced to Dijon’s city symbol and my personal guide, the Owl! Like many other cities and towns in France, Dijon is also couched with its own Notre Dame. What is unique, however, about the Notre Dame of Dijon, is the addition of a stone owl, on the left side of this historical structure. Taking its cue from this humble little creature, the local administration, in a bid to promote tourism, have lined the city with small arrows bearing the symbol of an owl, to ensure that any not-so savvy tourist can visit all the sights that need to be seen in Dijon, in an efficient and fun way. And so, with the owl as my guide and companion I was out and about through the home of the Dukes of Burgundy, rounding off my day with a stroll on cobbled grounds, breathing in the air filled with the giggles of life.
Sated with the sights, sounds and tastes of Dijon, I was ready to call it a night and prepare for the next leg of my journey, which promised to be my first, very own, tick an entry off my bucket list, experience! To be, of course, continued in the next part of my Scribblings.
nish ^_^
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