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Turkish Trail

18 Wednesday Mar 2009

Posted by in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, March 2009

Caught up in a whirlwind, you are swept from place to place, in this age-old vast expanse of Eurasian land. SITANSHI TALATI-PARIKH explores the five top spots in Turkey

Bodrum
Seaside Buzz

It could be Capri, St. Tropez, Amalfi, Mykonos, with its turquoise waters topped with white froth, cheery sailboats dotting the pier and a town that is like a creamed scone. The Turkish Riviera sprinkled with ancient cities and harbours, memorial tombs and beaches, plays host to some of the most sparkling celebrities, who look for the very best and the most anonymous of locations. Bodrum is an ideal seaside getaway as we steer clear of the madding crowds that appear in Antalya in hordes. While Antalya, though an excellent fishing port where many a gorgeous tourist trail abounds (Santa Claus was apparently born near Antalya in Demre), Bodrum is for those seeking beauty on their own terms – quiet in a reserved self-confident sort of way. And if Bodrum is still too buzzy, Turk-buku and Didime are even quieter, secret getaways.

Driving down the Marmaris (more than a 1000 km of shoreline along the Mediterranean Sea), with a view rivalled only by Greece, Bodrum’s sleepy seaside town is surprisingly chic and quite the happening party spot if you want to while the wee hours of the night away. With options like the very sophisticated sprawling Kempinski Hotel, with its pristine infinity pool, quiet private beach and the Six Senses Spa or the little boutique hotels that dot the landscape unobtrusively (the haunt of celebs), the Turkish Riviera is plum with choice picks for more than a bed and breakfast.

Staying away from the crowded town gave us time to unwind and grab a few rays, and catch the shuttle into town only when truly pushed. The town itself is as charming as most European ones are, with winding alleys that all spill into the waterfront that in itself is gorgeous with a multitude of dotted sailboats and ferries. Climbing to the top of Bodrum Castle (that dates back to 1402 AD) and seeing the spectacular view that lies before you, takes your breath away – literally and metaphorically. For over a century St. Peter’s Castle remained the second most important castle, serving as a refuge for Christians in Asia Minor.

A quiet town of fishermen and sponge divers until the mid-20th century, Turkey’s educated classes (amongst them, artists) picked Bodrum as their place of inspiration. And, romance is not to be forgotten – Mark Anthony chose the Turkish Riviera as a wedding gift for his beloved Cleopatra!

Anatolia
Vintage Drama

It is a walk down the rubble of centuries – even if it is restructured and recreated history, the ancient town of Ephesus, host to one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, is a part of the Mediterranean heritage. Architecture stems completely from Roman/Greek influence – with no signs of the mosaic and domes of the Ottoman era. A city of ancient Anatolia, it is famed for one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, the Temple of Artemis (completed around 550 BC), destroyed by the Goths in 263 BC and rebuilt by the emperor Constantine I. The town was again partially destroyed by an earthquake in 614 BC. The importance of the city as a commercial center declined as the harbour slowly filled with silt from the river. Ephesus contains the largest collection of Roman ruins east of the Mediterranean, of which only an estimated 15 per cent has been excavated. The Library of Celsus, whose façade has been carefully reconstructed from all original pieces, once held nearly 12,000 scrolls. Its open-air theatre, which was capable of holding 25,000 spectators is an impressive sight – as you can envision the dramatic performances and gladiatorial combats taking place here to cheering crowds. The population of Ephesus also had several major bath complexes, and one of the most advanced aqueduct systems in the ancient world. It is particularly amusing to see the ‘community potties’ , where apparently the men got together to perform their morning ablutions, interspersed with conversation and gossip! An emptying of mind and body, exemplified.

Ephesus is believed to be the city of the Seven Sleepers. The story of the Seven Sleepers (who are considered saints by Catholics and Muslims), tells that they were persecuted because of their belief in God and that they slept in a cave near Ephesus for centuries.

It is ideal when visiting Ephesus to stay either at Kusadasi or Bird Island – a lively port overlooking the Aegean with yachting, shopping and great beaches. I found the Charisma Hotel here a fun place to stay in, with dinner barbecue and a non-stop party atmosphere. Alternatively, you can stay at Izmir, believed to be the hometown of Homer, a happening and cosmopolitan city with much ado particularly during the International Arts Festival (June/July) and the International Fair (August/September).

Pamukkale
Healing Springs

Shed clothes and inhibitions amid therapeutic thermal spring waters, as you climb the terraced plateau, a fairyland of dazzling white. Stalactites, cataracts and basins have formed with the natural calcium salt deposits. Pamukkale means ‘cotton castle’ in Turkish and is located in the Aegean region, in the River Menderes valley, which enjoys a temperate climate through most of the year. The tectonic movements that took place here triggered frequent earthquakes, and led to the emergence of a number of very hot springs. The water from one of these springs, with its large mineral content – chalk in particular, created the natural world heritage site that is Pamukkale. The ancient city of Hierapolis was built on top of the white ‘castle’, which is in total about 2700 metres long and 160m high.

Cappadocia
Stuff of Fantasy

Millions of years ago, three of the Cappadocian mountains were active volcanoes, and years of erosion of soft volcanic rock led to a fantastical landscape. Holes in the countryside in which people actually lived in, is the stuff that imagination, fantasy and fairy tales are made of. Reminiscent of the bizarre landscape from Star Wars – rivalled by none other than Tunisia – Cappadocia in the Central Anatolia province of Turkey is one of the most extraordinary places you can visit. Not only for the amazing land formations, but also for the fact that people actually lived in the maze of underground cities, which are so tiny that a full-grown person can barely crawl through – ideal to prevent enemies from finding their hiding spots. Clambering through the labyrinth is a surreal experience, what with wine and oil presses, stables, cellars, storage rooms, refectories and chapels all finding room underground.

Strolling through the Goreme Open Air Museum, I walk into some of the 30 rock-carved churches and chapels with some stunning frescoes, dating from the ninth to the 11th centuries – particularly from the Iconoclastic period. Christians fleeing Roman persecution found refuge here, carving homes for themselves out of the soft volcanic tuff. Sadly, the subsequent Turkish invaders have destroyed many of these frescoes, by scratching out the faces, eyes and symbols of Christianity.

We break for lunch at Uranos Sarikaya cave restaurant. Served a hearty local meal kicked off with lentil soup while sitting in the dimly lit caves, we break bread as a family. Local wine is served in rustic earthenware from Avanos, richly flavourful from the fertile vineyards of the volcanic region.

Cappadocia, a UNESCO world heritage site, is best viewed from a hot air balloon, suspended high above the natural wonder, in the wee hours of the morning. Unable to struggle out of bed so early, I watch a golf tournament take place with great fascination, from one of the idyllic spots in the Goreme Valley – the Museum Hotel – sipping a cup of ruby-coloured Turkish tea. Suddenly, as a famous Turkish TV star is escorted into the hotel with much ado, I find my reverie broken. While I am repeatedly reminded of the Cappadocian men’s renowned good looks, I find it difficult to tear my eyes away from this gorgeous landscape, as the sun sets over these landforms splashing them brightly with myriad hues.

Though I cannot imagine living in the underground cave mazes, I find myself easily able to sink into a supremely luxurious cave chamber. As rooms spill into more rooms, with rounded ceilings and ‘cave’ bathrooms, TV sets nestled amidst cave alcoves and some fabulous hand-picked local antiques (think thick Turkish rugs and handcrafted porcelain) finding home in this cavernous boudoir, I wonder how I ever spent years in cities of cement and tar. This special soft rock – a natural insulator: cool in summer and warm in winter – packed with history, time and wisdom, is just one of the things I would like to take home with me.

Istanbul
12 Hot Tips

Former capital of three empires, Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman, Istanbul combines exquisite opulence with street fare. Moving quickly beyond the time of Guru, when Abhishek Bachchan goes to Istanbul for work, it still is reminiscent of the quaint bazaars and spirited individuals. Turkey’s tourist capital is exciting and full of experiences. If the walls could talk, they would speak a thousand words (though only a smattering of English is spoken in the country), of an era of princes and noblemen, of finery and hustlers, of busy streets and industrial growth.

Where belly dancing is replaced by Reina; the Grand Bazaar by the waterside flea market, sophisticated shops by street hustlers and kebabs by kumpirs, Istanbul can be more than the usual experiences.

  1. Con Artists They watch you, stalk you and then pretend to have dropped something. You, naively stop and point it out to them. Appearing thankful, they then offer a free service in return (a complimentary shoe shine) as you hesitate, and maybe even take them up on the offer, they have varied means of outing you of your money.
  2. Shopper’s Stop The Grand Bazaar is merely grand by name. Unless you are a shopaholic who must rummage through every shop, the Ortakoy flea market is a much better place to pick up trinkets and local crafts. While Istiklal Caddesi is smart street shopping, a crowded tourist street filled with local boutiques and bargain deals; the Nisantasi area is high end shopping, with exclusive boutiques like Gonul Paksoy (favoured by Japanese royalty and Gulf princesses) selling one of a kind dresses inspired by Dervish silhouettes made from antique Ottoman-era cloth.
  3. Kumpirs, Kebabs and Dondurma Kumpir, a local variation of a baked jacket potato smoothened with a generous helping of butter and cheese, with toppings of your choice, and fresh kebabs are all over the city. The local ice-cream (dondurma) vendors are thoroughbred performers and true salesmen, who will charm you with their artsy moves with long paddles and colourful ices and then convince you to buy a scoop.
  4. Eurasia Istanbul is a large city that strides two continents – Asia and Europe. Cutting through the heart of the city, the Istanbul Strait finds the mingling of the waters of the Black Sea, the Sea of Marmara and the Golden Horn (horn-shaped estuary). Don’t miss a cruise on the Bosphorous – by day or night.
  5. The Desi Connection Our Bollywood icon, Raj Kapoor, is super famous in Turkey. As Awara is one of the locals’ favourite movies, RK songs are hummed and sung everywhere. Also, many words from Hindi/Urdu are common to the Turkish language. Cuppa chai, anyone?
  6. Orhan Pamuk The Turkish Tourism office was not forthcoming about connecting me with this highly controversial Nobel prize-winning, Turkish novelist. Not surprising when you realise that he no longer lives in Turkey – in 2006, after a period in which criminal charges had been pressed against him for his outspoken comments on the Armenian Genocide, he left his hometown Istanbul for America. Don’t miss his book, Istanbul, a great insight into the city.
  7. Lucky No. 7 Istanbul is synonymous with the epithet ‘city of seven hills’ – in much the manner of Rome. Since the Babylonians, the number seven has been attached to a holy place – a belief continued through mythology, paganism and mysticism. Istanbul has seven focal points – with Ottoman period imperial mosques dominating the skyline when seen from the Golden Horn.
  8. Sky-high To Water Level The city is best enjoyed when on the waterfront, or at a height. With a zillion sensational night-spots dotting the landscape, you can pick from exclusive on-the-water-lounges like Reina or at the top of the world places like 360 degrees – with unsurpassed views and famous personalities likely to be around.
  9. Cosmopolitan Wonder The Basilica of Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom) was the largest cathedral ever built for over a thousand years. When Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Turks, it was converted into the Ayasofya Mosque. Some of the Islamic features (like the four minarets outside) were added under the Ottomans. To prevent any dispute over the religious ownership, in 1935 the Republic of Turkey converted it into a museum. With its 55 metres dome and Byzantine mosaics, it is a confluence of two religions and truly a cosmopolitan wonder. Turkey is a secular republic, with a predominantly Muslim population.
  10. Arts and Culture A relatively closed economy until the mid-1980s led to a slowly developing contemporary art scene in Turkey. Where Parisian art was a great influence in the 1970s, German art inspired Turkish artists in recent times. Social change, particularly in Istanbul is a recurrent theme. Classical Turkish art techniques such as carpet weaving, sculpture and ceramics are now used in combination with other media like installation, video and photography; with women are now featuring heavily on the scene. Check out The International Arts and Cultural festival come June and July and the International Film Festival in March and April.
  11. Belly Dancers Everyone knows about Turkish belly dancers! Choose the show wisely – a lot of overpriced performances take place, and very few are actually worth the pretty penny you have to shell out.
  12. Turkish Baths While the baths themselves are quite famous, it is the stripped-down to the bare-skin community bathing that leaves many a tourist taken aback. Let go of inhibitions and discover your ability to find a new sense of camaraderie, while you cleanse yourself. If this doesn’t work for you, the top hotels in the city have excellent private hammam experiences. Try the surreal Turkish bath and massage, with masseuse Sema at the Ritz Carlton Istanbul. It is a great way to round up your trip.

European Rhapsody

22 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, September 2008

Sitanshi Talati-Parikh wanders far from the madding crowd in search of the most spectacular European spots for a destination wedding

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As the bridal season rolls in, everything needs to be perfect – the perfect ring, the perfect outfit, the best guest list, the most gorgeous honeymoon. But the wedding – that is the crucial, quintessential area of importance. Should we stay in or get out? Destination weddings have become the flavour of the season, more important than outfits and honeymoons – which are a given. What with a British couple getting married at 1,000 feet atop airplanes, Star Wars and fairy tale characters’-inspired wedding attire and a groom skydiving to tie the knot in Bhubaneswar; the bizarre is the flavour of the season. To find that eternal, exquisite destination, you just need to think bigger and more exclusive. Forget flowers and centrepieces, it’s the ambience and old-world charm of palaces and castles, or a simple sunset that forms the perfect backdrop to that ultimate moment which needs to be embedded in our memories forever.

It is said to be the most magnificent sunset in the world – and it may just be true. There are very few places in the world where you can stand atop a craggy piece of land and say your vows in front of the tangerine sunset straddling a dormant volcano floating on the ocean. Wedding parties fly in specially to get married in front of the Santorini sunset, and a breathless bride and groom hold hands and wait in anticipation for the exact moment when the sun sets and flashes a myriad colours across the Grecian sky, at which moment, they become man and wife. That is the starting point of a journey, where people are always looking for something special, or actually going that extra mile – literally and metaphorically, to make the event a day to remember. While Santorini appears to be the most magical spot in the world, so purely a thing of nature, consider having a beautiful ice wedding.

From volcanic sunshine to icy blue environs – with a chapel carved out of ice every year, and special custom-made ‘ice’ wedding packages, it is possible to be a real Scandinavian Ice Princess, in Jukkasjärvi, Sweden, a small village 200 km north of the Arctic Circle. No two chapels are quite the same in this unique location, as the chapel itself eventually melts away into the River Torne. Whether you choose matching ski suits, kilts or the traditional wedding attire, having a wedding at the IceHotel is an experience for all present.

If ice doesn’t do it for you, and a princess you still want to be, then simply think like the Mittals – and Versailles. The ‘fairy tale’ wedding of Lakshmi Mittal’s daughter Vanisha that was broadcast all over the world with much fanfare, or Eva Longoria’s wedding reception, were both held at the Vaux Le Vicomte Château, in Versailles, France. The historical 17th century masterpiece is replete with fountains and lush gardens, exquisite furniture, period decor and crackling fires in antique fireplaces – quite the place to warm the soul! With a host of movies shot at this fabulously grand location, it is also enough to make you feel like a movie star. Think Marie Antoinette (but of course with a ‘happily ever after’ instead)!

Talking about fairy tales, you are immediately transported to Venice – the land of entrancing (though a tad smelly) gondolas and beautiful churches. One of the most romantic cities in the world, reminiscent of Juliet being serenaded by Romeo, it is the perfect place for a classic wedding in an Italian palazzo or in the ambience of a church with famous paintings of Titian and Michelangelo as guests of honour. ‘Period Residences’ that date back to the 1500s, like Palazzo Abadessa, with frescoed ceilings, authentic antiques, and paintings from the Tintoretto school, welcome wedding parties.

Gorgeous Capri of Mediterranean blue sea, picturesque white sail boats, limestone masses and villa-lined promenades is one of the most typically beautiful spots – a spectacular alternative to the white Cycladian architecture of Greece – with the simplistic beauty of its coastline. Capri was the destination of choice for celebrity chef Wolfgang Puck and Gelila Assefa’s wedding, at the Grand Hotel Quisisana, which draws inspiration from Mediterranean art and lifestyle, whilst intrinsically remaining an Italian hotel. Getting married amidst the ruins of imperial Roman villas (think Villa Jovis) promises to be an experience.

Recalling Diane Lane in the movie Under the Tuscan Sun, where we realise it is easy to fall in love with wine country (and possibly a hot Italian), and nothing more is really required to have a rollicking country wedding. Breathtaking countryside, art, sculpture and the misty haziness of wine come together to serenade you in style. Winding down grass roads and one-horse towns, where your visitors may actually get lost or never find their way back home, with simple guitar-strumming and sultry afternoons of free wheeling time, it’s all about a sedate wedding at a villa in Tuscany.

If natural beauty is your thing, then having a wedding amidst the backdrop of the fairy chimneys, mushrooms, and unusual land forms of Cappadocia, is inimitable. Reminiscent of the bizarre backdrops in Star Wars, this Turkish phenomenon is best experienced from the painstakingly put together Museum Hotel located at the area’s highest point, Uchisar. With the grand hotel made out of the local insulated rock, many local ancient heirloom and antique pieces decorating the place and a gorgeous heated swimming pool with a breathtaking view of the Goreme Valley to boot, it is not surprising that the hotel is the favourite haunt of movie stars and celebrities, and an ideal location for an exotic wedding celebration; as the sun sets over the land forms, enveloping them in myriad hues.

This is merely the tip of the proverbial iceberg. From Bavarian mountains in Germany to the ‘sound of music’ hills of Salzburg, from the little cozy mountain chalets of Switzerland, to the Baroque architecture of Eastern Europe; going exotic is a truly memorable way to tie the knot.

Travel blog: California Dreamin’ – Napa Notes

22 Friday Aug 2008

Posted by in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, August 2008

Jazz evenings, vines dripping fruit, cheese on a platter. Verve goes on two languorous road trips

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As sleepy as a cat curled up on a furry rug by a crackling fire, as mobile as fresh wine that slowly slithers down a crystal glass, Santa Rosa is a town that is just barely half-awake. Eating an authentic Mexican meal at a local restaurant, the town reminds me of something out of an old Western film. We had just arrived here, driving up from the foggy centre of San Francisco into the hazy dustiness of Santa Rosa, which is the perfect spot from which to navigate wine country, the sprawling wilderness that is absolutely enchanting and completely at one with nature. We start off on the drive with my friend’s Ecuadorian fiancé, our designated driver.

My mind drifting away, I recall Mr. Big from Sex and the City, who randomly buys a vineyard in Napa and leaves NYC to set up shop in sunny California. Or maybe I am thinking of Sideways, the Alexander Payne movie about two middle-aged men who take off on a trip through wine country – drinking a lot of wine and trying to get lucky with the ladies. Wine country has a dramatically different meaning for anyone who has been there, or wants to go there – it stands for a mystical sense of escapism – an alternative to beaches and hills. Expansive flatland stretching longer than the eyes can see, winding roads through vines dripping with fruit that lead to a manufacturing unit for eternal intoxication.

I wonder if it is the lazy meandering or the breathless anticipation for that new flavourful taste that attacks your palate, or the simple desire to unwind in a lengthy road trip that gives wine country a charm that raises eyebrows and nods of approval. Exploring wine country however, takes more than one sunny afternoon. It is possible to consider days, even weeks of enchantment, drifting languorously from one vineyard to another, from one valley to another, polishing off the best cheeses and dining at some of the finest restaurants. Think Napa, Sonoma and Mendocino counties.

With sultry sounds of Simon and Garfunkel to take us back to an era beyond the electronica of today, the car rolls smoothly on, zipping past the dusty vineyards, as we sit armed with a map, chocolate-covered pretzels and excited gossip galore. Turning into our first stop we pour out like excited teenagers, dying to get a first look at a real-life winery. Where entertaining visitors and tourists is as much a business as is producing the famous wines.

Our introduction to the art of tasting starts with the Robert Mondavi winery. Opening a ‘fresh’ bottle of Reserve wine, we let the wine breathe to absorb the natural flavours from its first breath of fresh air. As we watch the ruby red liquid slide down the wide-bottom glass, the server, with an artful twist of his wrist, explains the clarity and quality of the wine. Observing it is like knowing the difference between a crystal and diamond – the different grades and the uniqueness of the one with crystal-clear clarity. With a degree of reverence, the glass is held before us, with its splash of precious nectar and we are encouraged to take in its flavours. Is it woody or musky? Cherry or Meaty? Do we sense a dash of burgundy? As our inexperienced noses start to give up and get confused, the knowing demonstrator quickly picks up a petri dish of fresh coffee beans and swishes it before our twitching nostrils. That will break the sense of smell and once we go back to smelling the wine, the aromas start to become sharp and more distinct.

Barely have we reached the starting phase of sensing aromas and mentally tuning into flavours that would hit our senses, is it time to take that first sip. Tentatively, we stand queued up ready for the hit. Holding the first sip while swirling it about with our tongues and breathing in the aromas, we close our eyes to experience the multitude of flavours that flood our palate. It is then that we can actually realise how numb our taste buds are with the daily overdose of packaged foods, condiments and spices that we have forgotten to really appreciate basic tastes.

Back in the car, heady with the rush of excitement with a new sense of awakening, we plot our journey. While the other wineries along the way are more of jolly experiences and a great way to experiment with the crash course on wine tasting, it is the rustic beauty of Rubicon Estate that really takes our breath away. On the way to Rubicon, we encounter the cozy groves of Ravenswood in Sonoma County, where we are encouraged to be bolder – not surprising given their motto of ‘No wimpy wines!’ We come face-to-face with Zinfandels, surrendering to a rich, full-bodied and intense experience, that I don’t think we are ready for, yet!

Ready for the lunch break though, we stop at the family-owned V. Sattui winery, known for their gourmet deli and cheese platters. Refuelling, we decide to take a turn through the gift shop and museum (I succumb to buying a wine country poster) and the chilly barrel aging cellars, getting a taste of the actual process. Italian winemaker Vittorio Sattui arrived in San Francisco in 1882 with his new bride, Kattarina, to begin their life in America. A trade baker, making wine in his spare time, Vittorio’s reputation grew until Prohibition. Daryl Sattui took his great-grandfather’s passion to fruition, and in the late 1900s V. Sattui Winery became a beautiful stone structure amid the venerable 250 year-old oaks, reminiscent of the late 19th century wineries in Italy and France. The walk back in time filled me with a sense of warmth that no amount of wine could.

From the Italian rustic story, we reached that glamourous Italian connection – the Coppola family. Francis Ford Coppola has spent nearly as much time making wines at his Niebaum-Coppola Estate Winery (now called the Rubicon Estate) in the Napa Valley as he has making movies. As we walk into the grand estate with creepers and moss-covered stone, we are overwhelmed with a sense of something larger-than-life. Just dropping the name Coppola, leads one to feel in the presence of power, something very different from the quaint homeliness of V. Sattui. As if it is not enough to feel this power, we are thrown amidst a deeper significance of this estate – something that makes this less about wine and more about a marking of history and experiences – a part of a greater sociological significance – about two immigrant families (Gustave Niebaum and the Coppolas) who came together to ‘establish a wine estate rivalling those in France’. As the Godfather of filmmaking put it, he was a part of the two great art forms key to the development of California. The hoity-toity demeanour of the estate’s caretakers make us want to scurry back out into bright sunshine and the reality of everyday life – where crystal chandeliers and grand staircases are left to the reel life rather than real life.

As the hours and the wineries roll by in hazy delirium, we decide that it is about time to turn back to the foggy bay area, where strolling down Fisherman’s Wharf, watching the sun set, we could sit back at a little Italian bistro, replay the day’s escapades over a glass to wine that we have just learnt to appreciate. After all, I think, as the Golden Gate Bridge appears in the horizon, the experience does make one thirsty for more.

Travel blog: Turkish Rites

22 Tuesday Jul 2008

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Published: Verve Magazine, July 2008

Stepping away from the modern spa techniques, Sitanshi Talati-Parikh sets off to explore the ancient baths and ritualistic cleansing therapies in two very exclusive Turkish locations – the Kempinksi Hotel at the Mediterranean beachside Bodrum, and the Ritz Carlton in Istanbul

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I knew a little bit about Turkish baths – the fact that they have been a source of inspiration especially for the Victorian Era, (think Titanic); and have been a confluence of Roman, Byzantine tradition merged with the influence of the Turks of Anatolia. I decided to keep an open mind in the five-star version of the local baths as I was duly escorted into the impressive facilities of the Six Senses Spa at the Kempinski Bodrum.

Stately and expansive, the rooms spilled into one another, with a spectacular view over the Aegean Sea from the angled glass windows. With a sense of trepidation, I wound the pestemal (a simple woven cotton fabric) around my waist – and clonked over the hammam carpet into the first chamber in the nalin (special wooden shoes embellished with mother-of-pearl). I had been forewarned by the spa director, Lisa, that the hammam could be a little rough – it has been known to leave a jarring sense of loss of skin! Feeling particularly protective towards my own supple skin, I nearly had second thoughts about going through this experience, but faced the first room with the courage of one entering a torture chamber.

Clear white marble from floor to ceiling greeted me, in the vast octagonal room, with an octagonal raised piece of marble directly in the centre. Having sat in the steam room for fifteen minutes prior, I was already feeling misty and breathless. As I lay down on one side of the central piece, I shot up straight when a hot stone nearly scalded my back. Quietly amused, the bikini-clad masseuse, also with a pestemal wrapped around her waist, motioned me to lie back down and relax, as she poured cool water all over me from one of the myriad stone wash basins, with a metal bowl. Alternating warm and cool water, she was opening and closing the pores of my skin, before beginning the lengthy exfoliation.

Wrapping a kese (a rough mitt) around her hand, the masseuse began to vigorously scrub my skin, leaving a brisk, burning sensation. As I frantically motioned her to keep the scrubbing down to a minimum, she smiled enigmatically, leaving me with a sense of a lost cause. Gritting my teeth through the exfoliation, I finally found myself drenched with the soothing water once again. Getting a moment to catch my breath and wince, I could smell a fragrance wafting towards me and saw the masseuse from the corner of my eye swaying and blowing into a big bag. Curiosity piqued, I sat up and craned my neck to take in the surreal scene.

She was filling a large soft bag (specially woven out of hair or plant fibres) with soapy water, blowing into it and shaking it until it began to overflow with soap bubbles which she then emptied all over me! I was lying in a cloudy haze, covered in soap bubbles, as she then slid the soft bubble bag in a light rub all over my body. It was the most wonderful sensation after being roughly scrubbed from head to toe! Drifting away, I caught myself imagining this room filled with laughing, gossiping local women of yore, bathing together and socialising with a strong sense of familiarity that is possible only in a community bath. After all, they gathered here for all cultural occasions – ritual cleansing, wedding ceremonies, a new born baby’s fortieth day, hospitality bathing, circumcision… uh, need I say more?

While the community bathing concept has reached all parts of the world, I believe it is the exquisite engraving and mosaic, carved marble and gold embellishments of the Ottoman Empire that has made Turkish baths really famous. It is easy to feel like royalty, being bathed on marble and gilded patina. Brought pleasantly back to the present, with the advent of a soft massage with silk moisturisers, I realised that though this was a complete pampering experience, a true hamam needs the company of friends or acquaintances to make it an authentic one. I wasn’t complaining though – lying back and getting bathed is generally restricted to when you are a baby!

As the 45-minute bath drew to a close, she helped me up, dried my hair and body, wrapped me up like a little child and took me into the last chamber, filled with lanterns, lounges and muted music – in which you could relax and cool off. Sip a little tea, lie down and even take a nap after the massage or marvel at the baby-like softness of your rejuvenated skin, smelling fragrantly of the traditional attar of rose.

As I arrived in Istanbul, the land of harems and their pampered traditions, I was ready for a deeper experience. Little did I know what was in store, at the ultra-luxurious Laveda Spa at the Ritz Carlton. I found myself getting ready for a 50-minute traditional Turkish massage by one of their most experienced masseuses, Sema. As I lay back scrubbed and dried, I wondered why they have a massage after a bath – apparently, a massage is the best way to relax your body and skin after the exfoliating hammam. Starting with a slender wrist movement, Sema loosened the stiff muscles of my body before she embarked on a stronger kneading and arm roll technique. Like the Indian Ayurvedic massage, the Turkish one also tends to use a generous amount of pressure and ancient therapeutic techniques as it is a invigorating and stimulating massage rather than a relaxing one.

As Sema quietly worked away, I found myself finally getting the knots out of my wound-up body. Suddenly, I found a strange hot sensation run through my back, a growing circular heat and I stirred and asked her what was wrong. With a self-assured demeanour, she explained that noticing some stress-related pain in my back, she had reverted to a bio-energy massage, which was excellent at drawing negative energy out and flowing positive energy into the body, creating the heat waves. This was the first I had ever heard of a bio-energy massage – I asked her to tell me more. Not proficient in English, like most of the people of the country, she tried to communicate her response in broken English. Endowed with highly intuitive fingers and a heightened sense of touch, Sema, apparently could sense the ailments in her clients’ bodies and could also sense blocked chakras and energy fields. I found her telling me things that only my doctor would know and I was bowled over by her insight. And then, she made predictions that only a soothsayer could. From the certain present to the relatively ambiguous future, we were now treading ground that left many questions unanswered – that only time would prove accurate. As the massage drew to a close, I sat up feeling lighter and emotionally moved. It was as if her energy fields had managed to channelise positive fuel into my body….

From ritualistic cleansing to a therapeutic Turkish massage, the experience, even if not exactly in the populated ambience of the bygone era, was by itself truly spectacular. There really wasn’t much else to say, except, maybe, Masha Allah!

Literature: Second Comings

26 Wednesday Mar 2008

Posted by in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Published: Verve Magazine, Features, Travel, March 2008

With 27 novels and 14 books of criticism and non-fiction under his belt, Paul Theroux, American travel writer, who has spent extensive time in Asia and Africa, is ready to release his latest travel chronicle later this year. On his recent visit to the city, the writer of the best-selling The Great Railway Bazaar, and the winner of many an award, regales fans in Mumbai

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I wonder what a prolific travel writer would be like – well read and engaging? Paul Theroux is all of that and more, poetic at heart, and likely to espouse on his literary influences rather than his own work. Able to look at himself with humour and reticence, he remarks after being warmly introduced to the audience at a panel discussion, “Now, I begin to believe in myself.” Visiting Mumbai by chance when the Calcutta Book Fair got cancelled at the last minute, Theroux decided to tour the country for three weeks as a guest of the State Government.

Dreams of India began in the early 19th century, in the neighbourhood where Theroux grew up and are alive to this day. Ralph Waldo Emerson circulated copies of the Bhagwad Gita amongst his friends. Henry Thoreau and Mark Twain were both inspired by India. Twain’s Following the Equator, in turn, was a great source of inspiration for Theroux. Richard Henry Dana served as his role model, the perfect travel writer – bold, brave, uncomplaining, with an ability to survive discomfort. “When I thought of my first travel book, I thought of going to India and in the most interesting and unforgettable way – by train instead of plane.” Wanting to connect it to where he lived earlier–London–Theroux, studying a map, figured it was as simple as joining the dots. The journey turned out to be memorable enough to make for a fascinating travel book.

Paul Theroux’s recent visit to India is all about second comings. As he often notes, there are exceedingly few travel writers who have been able to return to a destination after having made a journey there once. In fact, all the great ones haven’t been able to do so. “When you get older, the world changes – in ways you cannot guess – it is possible to make predictions, but one cannot see into the future.” He remarks, tongue-in-cheek, that he had a choice – to take his own trip again, or leave it up to some 20-year-old in search of a book, who would write it, probably, not as well!

Theroux points out, ironically, in the age of globalisation and in a flat world, what was possible the first time around is often, impossible in the next journey. This was particularly the case with India, where it was no longer possible for him to take the Great Train Journey, like he did many a year ago, with the problems in Pakistan and Afghanistan.

He jokes about a time in Chennai when everyone there could tell him how to get to New York, but not a soul knew whether the ferry to Colombo was running! Taking a realistic perspective he notes, “The world isn’t a village you can go to, and not everyone are brothers and sisters! Over time, some countries close up and others open up.” While Vietnam and Burma may still have oppression, Laos is booming, and Singapore is heralding the brave new world. Taking a ‘prison tour’ in the ‘free world’, however, was enlightening – Theroux chose to see a Stalinist Labour Camp from the ’30s instead of Swan Lake or churches.

Travelling overland, one can really see how people are living, how they are displaced – and it’s many hours (over the quicker air route) well spent. China is unrecognisable – there are ‘ancient charming towns in a big fat city’. According to him, China is the difference between cultural revolution and money, where history hasn’t been kind: ‘Get out of the way, or we’ll run you over – a road is coming up over the pagoda!’

Theroux feels that India is not in the same boat. Attached to its past, there is a certain ‘changelessness’ about India – like the three-legged dog that will eternally roam the streets of the country. “It is like a hall of mirrors, looking down to see if it is continuous.” And the change is positive – the traveller determined to see the new India is certain to visit a call centre to meet Tarun aka Tony from Vikhroli.

As any traveller realises, their perspective of a place they visit is entirely different from that of the locals, or people who live there for long stretches of time. Vociferous about the subjective role of travel writers, Theroux agrees that the experiences could have been very different for any of the travel writers (including himself). Quoting Henry James, “The house of fiction has many windows,” Theroux insists that he is not an objective traveller. “I leap to conclusions and make wild generalisations for a living!” Travel writing isn’t a geographical survey – it is a ‘strange beast’ – its very false and speculative nature is what makes it amazing, autobiographical, and in a sense akin to life.

Words flow easily, as Theroux remarks on his role as a travel chronicler, “I wander aimlessly like a dog, but the writing has to be truthful. A travel book isn’t a love letter – it is the truth as I see it – reconstructed ‘above all to make you see’.’’

Travel blog: The Greek Dozen

23 Sunday Mar 2008

Posted by in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, March 2008

On her wanderings in the Greek capital, Sitanshi Talati-Parikh zeroes in onto 12 hotspots in Athens

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1. Sunbathe in Plaka
How does one describe the ultimate tourist spot in Athens? Commercial, crowded, pricey, but a lot of fun! In the warm sunny weather, there is nothing like sitting back in one of the courtyard cafés that dot the area, watching the crowds go by, gawping at the local architecture (with some ancient Greek and Roman ruins and several Byzantine churches scattered around), dawdling over lunch or sipping a cappuccino fréddo (Greek iced coffee) and feeling the tourist buzz settle somewhere within you.

2. Party at Psiri
Psiri is the village to Plaka’s Manhattan, though in a microcosmic scale. Psiri is a small bohemian area just off Plaka, where boutique hotels happily co-exist with graffiti-ridden walls, bands play at night and ouzeries (local taverns), especially those at Platia Iroon, spring to life with the onset of the locals. As music throbs through the narrow streets, I am taken aback as the hardware and supply stores from the day convert into makeshift taverns by night, where you’re likely to spot the bloke from the block lounging, smoking or grilling an octopus.

3. Sing a song at Syntagma
Syntagma sings a completely different tune, with the change of guard – who stand under the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. As the sun’s rays mark time, the stiff-lipped guards unflinchingly swing into their hourly change. Try as I did to stand uncomfortably close while taking a picture, I couldn’t for the life of me, sense even the bat of an eyelid.

4. Taste Adrianou
One of the exits from the famed Acropolis winds its way into the lively Adrianou Street, where street lamps play peekaboo with the tea lights flickering on the myriad tables that line this street. Chairs practically touch each other at some of the most charming outdoor family dining restaurants in the city (names that are truly Greek to me), replete with charismatic musicians. Hang around long enough to witness wedding merriment in one of the delightful restaurants.

5. Get high
The Acropolis literally means ‘high city’. Packed into the admission price of the Acropolis of Athens, you can visit the Parthenon (a symbol of Greek democracy and one of the world’s most famous cultural monuments), the Temple of Olympian Zeus, Theatre of Dionysious, Hadrian’s Library and the Ancient Agora, amongst others. The steep walk up leaves you breathless, but reliving history and checking out the magnificent view simply takes your breath away.

6. Scale new heights
Standing atop the Acropolis, facing the city, I stare at the green mountain rising from the midst of a sea of buildings, I wonder if it is worth my while to climb it after a truly long day. Later, as I reach atop Mt. Lycabettus (aboard a funny little train), I feel no regret, as a spectacular view unfolds before me, and I feel awash with a sense of depth. A nice café and amphitheatre (great shows held in the summer) make for a good break from the regular city spots.

7. Unravel history
Not surprisingly, Athens has over 130 museums, so either one has to make a judicious choice or move there permanently to explore them all! The first private museum, Benaki (housing the vast collection of Antonis Benakis), the Byzantine and Christian Museum, the National Archaeological Museum and the National Art Gallery are my picks.

8. Knock on Heaven’s door
The 12th century Church of Agios Eleftherios in Plaka is one of the most remarkable examples of Byzantine architecture. Also in Plaka is Agios Nikolaos Rangavas (part of the palace of the Rangavas family). The little 11th century Church of Kapnikarea bang in the middle of Ermou’s shopping street and the Church of Agii Theodori in Syntagma are worth checking out, for their lovely friezes and distinctive architecture.

9. To market, to market…
The famous flea market of Athens in Monastiraki Square is where a decidedly odd selection of items turns up on display. There isn’t much that can’t be found here (especially during the Sunday sales) – vintage vinyl and rare CDs, funky t-shirts, cheap jewellery, wrought iron items and Africans bootlegging DVDs.

10. Rock in style
The annual Hellenic festival runs from May through October, with an action-packed line-up of international music, dance and theatre, generally in one of the three places: the Athens festival at Odeon of Herodes Atticus by the floodlit Acropolis, a Greek drama festival at the Ancient Theatre of Epidavros, and the Musical July at the 4th century BC Little Theatre of Ancient Epidavros. From the international Rockwave Festival, to the August Moon Festival, from Jazz to Electronica, Athens is buzzing with live activity in the midst of history. In the summer, outdoor cinemas located in gardens and on rooftops, with modern sound systems, throw open their doors; bringing to the audience a movie by the moonlight with a glass of wine and a view of the Acropolis to boot. A movie date doesn’t get more romantic than that.

11. Splurge at Ermou
August-September is great sale time; it’s when the post-summer tourists have left and the bargains kick in. This is the perfect time to land up at Ermou Street to catch a neat deal with some excellent Italian leather and soft Greek cotton. Here, fake goods line the pavements in front of designer stores. For curios, walk the bylanes of Adrianou, that offer everything from memorabilia and paintings to make-your-own beaded jewellery. A little tram conveniently shuttles between Adrianou and Ermou via the market.

12. Ride the coast
It’s easy to forget that Athens is actually a coastal hub, with easy access to some great and well-organised beaches. Sparkling new resorts and spas (including those reminiscent of an ancient Roman Bath) have sprung up in the Athenian Riviera to cater to the well-heeled Athenians ready to take a break from city life. Or, about an hour away from the city, you could spend the afternoon by the busy port of Piraeus, buzzing with activity, dotted with gusty white sails and enormous steamers. Inhabited since 26th century BC, the name Piraeus roughly translates as ‘the place over the passage’, and is known to have been home to some famous local sportsmen, artistes and politicians. And what better high than to jump onto a ferry and zip off to a remote Greek island. Just on a lark!

Travel blog: Ouzo and Meze (Greece)

23 Sunday Mar 2008

Posted by in Food, Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, March 2008

Basking in the Mediterranean warmth, Sitanshi Talati-Parikh, in a local tasting sojourn, cruises through culinary lairs in Greece

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Virginity represents the epitome of purity. And a dash of extra virginity is purity magnified. Something so basic has been turned into the lifeblood of a country, into an industry and into a staple. Olive oil, spectacularly virgin, blessedly enhanced with features that are the true test of nature, denuded from the bountiful olive’s original sourness, marinated in herbs like fennel and finally spiked to culinary satisfaction. Olive oil is to Greece, what wine is to France. Drench a traditional Greek salad with it, observe it slide down the hefty chunk of feta cheese, creating rivulets around the oregano seasoning and watch it play a merry hide-and-seek with the folds of crisp lettuce, mountains of cucumber, mounds of olives and soft hills of ripe tomatoes until it arrives peacefully at the bottom of the bowl, waiting to be swished back up with flecks of freshly ground pepper. Ah!

Tourists come and tourists go, and they always leave with a distinct sense of Greece, emblazoned in her cuisine, and the pride with which the locals present their food to the hungry-eyed. With some grudging leeway made for Continental preparations (Greek with a French twist, dashed off with a healthy serving of Italian), it is tough to find truly international cuisine in Greece. Rightly so, for, would one wish to eat paneer tikka or sushi whilst basking in the Mediterranean?

Strolling down Athens’ Adrianou Street, a merry pedestrian path, in the vicinity of Plaka, I am spoilt for options. A host of family-run restaurants and street cafés vie for attention, as lissome Greek men prowl around attempting to charm a wayward tourist into their culinary lair. Uncles, brothers and nephews are all out in full force, with wickedly greasy smiles pasted on for the unsuspecting visitor who hovers expectantly at the entrance, flipping pages of their laminated menus, and once the walk has been made towards the table, they flit quickly to the next victim; I can only assume that the omnipresent mothers, wives, aunts and nieces are all back in the kitchen cooking up something truly divine!

Choosing the restaurant with the cosiest ambience and flickering candles, we slide into one of the crammed tables, and order ouzo – local anise-flavoured alcohol. Likened to the absinth or local fenny, ouzo is so strong (80-proof) that even the local Greeks chase it with water and always eat some meze to lighten the impact. Nothing fancy – something simple like bread doused in olive oil accompanied with a homemade dip, or feta and olives, works. (Beware the tricky ‘cover’ charge, that every table is inadvertently slapped with – for water and bread – whether ordered or not!)

If alcohol isn’t your cup of tea, then try the local Greek coffee, a chilled foam-topped drink popularly known as frappé or fréddo. For those who believe that Starbucks invented frappés, think again! Discovered by an employee of Nestlé way back in 1957 in Thessaloniki, the Greek frappé has its own variations in the iced espresso or cappuccino fréddo. In Greece, the local iced coffees are so popular that the trademark tall, slim glass, brimming with dark brown liquid swirled with pale froth is the drink of choice on sunny beaches, in lieu of fancy cocktails.

Food is a strange thing – even months, or years after having eaten something delectable, it is possible to conjure up, in the mind’s eye, the very taste, the flavour and aroma… In how many places though, is it possible to savour the changing hands of the season? The Greeks are purely seasonal eaters – the horiatiki salata (Greek salad), popular in summer, gets replaced by some version of lachano-marouli salata (cabbage-lettuce salad) at any other time of the year. The healthiest food in winter is the horta or wild greens, steamed or blanched and deftly made into a salad, with a dash of lemon juice and olive oil, eaten as a light meal with potatoes (in lieu of fish or meat). Watching the locals spend hours bantering or watching a community TV over the appetisers and salad, we begin to feel right at home.

As the moon lights up the Acropolis, our main course is served in steaming platters. From a freshly baked spanakopita (spinach and feta stuffed filo pie) to moussaka (a minced lamb and eggplant casserole), stuffed peppers, and pastitsio (a baked meat dish with béchamel sauce) there is much to choose from. Meat is in abundance in Greece – grilled lamb chops, pork and meatballs, and not forgetting game stew and grilled octopus. We look for kat which identifies frozen items on the menu, as the Greeks, by law, must make mention of anything that is not fresh. These baked dishes are great on the mainland, but the islands have their own specialties, though olive oil remains an ubiquitous ingredient across the country.

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On the Cycladic islands, a few days later, as I watch the multi-toned hues of the Santorini sunset reflect onto the burgundy wine, throwing shadows onto mashed fava (split pea) puree drizzled with olive oil and roasted onions, I automatically reach for the blood red tomato balls, as if colour must match colour, in order to synchronise with nature. The melting carafe of local Santorini wine, springing from the volcanic temperament of the soil and microclimate, is as unique as the local produce, giving us waterless yet succulent cherry tomatoes, sweet and sturdy white aubergines (both owing their origins in Suez), piquant green capers and cheese cultivated at home and served fresh, daily.

Hobnobbing with the locals gets us an inside peek into some interesting tastes that grab our palette – louloudakia or stuffed zucchini flowers (a dish found in Lesvos) which can be deep fried with cheese or boiled and stuffed with rice and herbs. And a local appetizer popularised in the Mykonos taverns, louza, a deep ruby-coloured ham flavoured with spices, left to dry and sliced particularly thin.

It is simply sinful to leave Greece without having experienced the popular Greek fast food of gyro (pita sandwich with rotisseried meat, accompaniments and tzatziki sauce) and souvlaki (cubes of meat on skewers). We steadfastly maintain that neither dish tasted remotely close to the original, hole-in-the-wall version, when attempted at a fancy restaurant. It is not difficult to find a little joint in the island towns or on street corners in Athens. A corn-on-the-cob and roasted pistachios from the little street vendors work as great accompaniments.

The generous physical proportions of the Greeks is not surprising, what with a daily dose of lovingly syruped layers of delicacies – from Turkish baklava and melitinia (small cream cheese pies) to the Mykonos specialty of roasted marzipan. For a lighter dash of sweetness, there is always the local seasonal fruit (giant juicy figs, melons and pears) or my personal favourite – yoghurt doused with fresh fruit, honey and groundnuts – the famous local concoction, particularly delicious, creamy and thick.

As I sit back, sipping on the local digestive liqueur masticha, swirling the flavour of anise around my tongue, after twelve days of food tasting in the land of myth and history, I feel like I am a part of another world, a world rich in food and culture, and yet simple to the core. Maybe it is the lack of popularisation of Greek cuisine abroad, or the fact that when in Greece, get fed like the Greeks do, that I feel content. Or maybe it is all those chunks of feta swirling in extra virgin olive oil…

Travel blog: Cycladic Groove

23 Wednesday Jan 2008

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, January 2008

Jive in a raucous Mykonos bar, weep at the splendour of a sunset at Santorini and watch a myth come alive in the Mediterranean. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh traverses the legend of the fabulous Grecian islands

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A strong gust of air knocks the wind out of me. I battle against it, as if locked into a ground-up quagmire. I have barely descended from a 30-minute Aegean Airlines flight from Athens, and I am already dreading the next week that lies ahead of me in the famous party island of Europe, MYKONOS, that has been known to give Ibiza a run for its money, and a true taste of the celebratory honey. Hugging my jacket closer, I think desperately about all the fabulously skimpy clothes in my suitcase, and wonder if anyone would ever find out if I never left the hotel room, in fear of being blown away into another planet. I’d been forewarned that Mykonos is renowned for its windmills, and now being battered like a rag doll, I truly understand why. A sneak peak at my husband struggling next to me, and I am aghast at his dejected air.

I stare despondently out of the window, at miles of barren countryside, dotted with semi-constructed Cycladic buildings. It looks forlorn, remote and desolate, hardly what one would expect from a happening beach scene. It’s as if we have slipped back into time, when Aristotle Onassis brought Jackie Kennedy to this then-remote island. Winding across the road, I glimpse a flash of Mediterranean blue, looking dark, inky and bleak as the foam swirls in a vicious white, whipped like cream against the battering wind.

The car turns into our hotel, the Mykonos Grand, about four km from Mykonos town and a sense of warmth suddenly envelops me as the serene beauty of white, mosaic, patina and hard-carved marble unfold a promise of better things to come. Greeted by the dashing manager Panayiotis, the epitome of a charming (single) Greek man, I am handed over the keys to my destiny for the next week. Still buffeted by the strong winds as we wince our way to the room, hubby and I brace ourselves for a sombre vacation ahead.

But when I walk into the room, I gasp with pleasure. Pure white marble stretches from one end to another, leading from a private steam and Jacuzzi room, onto the stone patio where our personal infinity pool stretches our imagination into the depths of the Mediterranean waters. As I sip on the local masticha liqueur staring at the beach Ayios Yiannis, where the movie Shirley Valentine was filmed, I shrug, thinking – if all else fails, this wouldn’t exactly be the worst place to celebrate our anniversary….

Flash-forward a mere day later and we are basking in the hot sun, swaying to European beats on the fabulous sandy beaches of Mykonos (from smaller ones like Ornos and Psarou, to the bigger ones like Platys Gialos, Paraga, Paradise and Super Paradise), keeping our eyes peeled for the many international and Greek celebrities that have summer residences on this sophisticated and upscale island.

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True to their word, the local weather predictors were bang on mark and there is no sign of the unpredictable ‘meltemi’ that sent us into the depths of misery, which cancelled many a ferry and has been responsible for many a skirmish fought on the famous Aegean Sea. In Greek mythology, Mykonos was the location of the battle between Zeus and the Gigantes and the island was named in honour of Apollo’s grandson Mykons.

Chora (Mykonos town), set around a picturesque fishing bay, holds its own with a cosmopolitan character that is surprising in its quaint environs, where tourists jostle into fabulous little boutiques and designer stores. It is preferable to stay in a deluxe resort on the outskirts (with convenient access by bus or car) rather than in town, where a sea of small whitewashed rounded buildings nudge each other on a haphazard labyrinth of cobbled winding roads originally intended to confuse pirates.

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The town bewilders the layman and would undoubtedly leave you clutching a map and still walking in circles, trying to stick to Matogianni Street (the main shopping path). It is not surprising to find a local lounging against his shop, smoking and watching you with snickering amusement, as many a tourist has fallen prey to the deceptive streets, more often than not tumbling over Petros, the local Pelican – a Mykonian mascot for half a century. Despite that it’s hard to miss probably the most photographed church in Greece, Panagia Paraportiani – a group of chapels merged into what was once described as an ‘organic masterpiece of accidental architecture’ – standing on a once-fortified piece of land.

Paradise Beach, ranked as one of the top 10 beach party destinations of the world, lives up to its name and reputation, resonating with music that would make your pants fall off and an environment that would probably make you want to do just that! With world-famous deejays making their rounds in Mykonos in the summer (July-August), non-stop parties that race into days and pour into the ocean, with a flood of people from every part of the world picking their slice of pleasure, Mykonos rocks it up, shakes it around and splashes it down until you are left buzzing with wonderment. Designated beaches like Super Paradise encourage the gay population to come out of the closet and escape into the ‘open’ sunshine without reproach. I covertly watch two nude European women, lovingly rubbing suntan oil onto each other, as I snuggle closer to my husband.

If huge crowds and racy partying is not your cup of holistic pleasure, June or September is the perfect month for unadulterated relaxation on this seasonal haven. It is then easy to find a tranquil spot on the Chora waterfront, watching the ferries dotting the clear skyline, over platters of fresh seafood at a local café. Come evening, we find a spot in Little Venice, constructed right onto the sea’s edge with precipitous balconies peering onto foam washed pebbles, where one wrong stiletto step or an awkward bump would send one reeling into the turquoise waters. Throbbing with bars (Caprice and Mykonos Bar are to die for) and fine dining restaurants overlooking the famous quartet of Mykonian windmills it is possible to romance the night away in this Grecian Venice.

Later, as I lie back in one of the sunniest areas of the world at the Althea Spa of our hotel facing the sacred island of Delos and relaxing with a traditional Greek olive oil massage, I am told this very spot attracts the highest concentration of cosmic energy. The cosmos has definitely worked overtime to ensure that true bliss touches my fingertips and sends a flood of pleasure into my life, even if for a mere week.

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Perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking fragments of a dormant volcano afloat in the Mediterranean waters, probably the only one in the world with its caldera in the sea, the sun performs its daily ritual. This is the famous SANTORINI sunset – which people fly out miles to watch, for which people spend a king’s ransom to get married against, in front of which writers in desperate need of inspiration stumble around. Santorini is what poetry, dreams, flights of fantasy and destination weddings are made of. As the sun’s rays sensually explore the riot of volcanic colours, naturally changing hues through the day, surrounded by the deep, blue sea, the sight brings a flood of lyrics to the tip of one’s tongue, a calm sensibility and yet an eager uneasiness to capture this eternal moment, at a place where civilisation has existed since the third millennium, BC.

From the heart of a natural catastrophe – volcanic eruptions that destroyed the island many times – has emerged spectacular beauty and tourist exploitation. As visitors throng onto the harbour in hordes, I let the pace slow me down, let the feel of the island’s majestic appeal sink into me. The cliff rises steeply into the sky and if you are one of the lucky few to have taken the high-speed catamaran ferry or a flight, then you can take the road up to the top of the cliff, where most of the towns with spectacular views are located. The others that arrive via bigger cruise ships have three remarkable options ahead of them: walk (only recommended if you are intensely fit or a masochist), ride abreast a donkey (bumpy, to say the least), or take a cable car (wait in long lines if it’s peak tourist season).

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Arriving in a record 10 minutes by car into the capital town, Fira, I watch amazed as the panorama unfolds before me. In desperately steep winding, cobbled paths, that doth not inebriation or an erring footstep forgive, lies the town – twinkling, as if quietly amused by the next batch of tourists that has arrived, to match wits with its killer (and I mean that with every kind of pun intended) location. The town is built vertically up or horizontally down, whichever way you prefer to look at it. Every hotel and every room lies one below the other, accessed only by the sheer pedestrian path. With horror and growing dread, I realise the implications vis-à-vis luggage and a bout of daily extreme exercise! Fear Factor material, I believe.

Porto Fira Suites, a charming hotel located amidst a cluster of Byzantine and post-Byzantine, Cycladic architecture, welcomes us warmly with slightly raised eyebrows at our immense bags (no, it is not an Indian thing, and it definitely wasn’t too many pairs of shoes)! Having exchanged notes with other tourists on the ferry, I understand that many have chosen to stay out of the main town, in places like Imerovigli (the ‘balcony of Santorini’), Firostefani and Oia, or on the outskirts of Fira in bigger hotels, like The Majestic. Some, like us, have decided to pay the price (literally, for a room with a view is exorbitantly expensive) of being bang in the midst of all the action, where shopping, food and nightlife is but a precipitous walk away.

Strolling around Fira, we stumble upon a gold mine – literally. The path is known as ‘Gold Street’, peppered as it is with shops selling every kind of gold jewellery and antiquity. As I steer past the glitter I swerve into the bylanes of the buzzing Erithrou Stanrou street, which I chose to nickname ‘Party Street’. From an Absinthe Bar called Casablanca Soul to nightclubs like Enigma, that don’t even begin to open an eyelid before 1 am and start rocking the daylights off the volcano in the wee hours of the morning, I discover with incredulity that Fira has its share of a big party scene.

 

We choose to drive around in a racy convertible with the top down, stopping by for a bout of local wine tasting thrown in for good measure. Santorini, depicted as the island of volcanic mystery and sheer cliffs, gently merges into the water on the other side, with exceptionally colourful beaches. Kamari, on the southeastern side of the island is the most international place to lounge upon. I realise, that walking barefoot on the hot volcanic sands can be a tad scalding, so it is advisable to keep those flip-flops on! There is no better place to get a killer tan than on these beaches that simply soak up the sun.

While both of us wait for the sun to set in Oia, on the other side of the island, renowned for the world’s most beautiful sunset over the caldera, the hours simply fly by, as the sun’s rays flecked with the dark hues of the deepening volcanic earth, move slowly down our bodies and into the depths of the water, leaving behind a sense of peace, fulfillment and accomplishment. This is one sunset that is difficult to walk away from….

Travel blog: Romancing the Ringstrasse (Vienna)

23 Friday Nov 2007

Posted by in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, November 2007

It’s a modern city with a romantic soul. Vienna’s majestic royal palaces, quaint coffee houses and famed tradition of outstanding opera music evoke a bygone era of refinement and grandeur. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh walks through the heart of the bustling Austrian capital and succumbs to its elegant charm and deliciously slow rhythm

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A ring of fortune, history and spectacular beauty drifts in with the sound of music. The tune has been heard a million times before and is unforgettable. The inner circle of Wien, the Ringstrasse, the city centre or first district, holds me spellbound. The flight attendants were not joking when they said, “We are landing in Vienna. Move your watches back a hundred years in time!”

It’s true. Despite its modern fittings and the latest technology, Vienna still maintains its old-world charm. So much so that I half expect one of the locals to raise his hat and bow in greeting. Baroque architecture jostles for space with Art Nouveau in this predominantly Catholic city overflowing with museums, cafes, opera houses, and churches.

As tourists mingle with locals at one of the Kaffeehaus (local coffee houses), I observe the age-old tradition of taking time over the brew, savouring a pastry, smoking a cigarette while reading the papers, gabbing or even composing (let’s not forget the legendary Mozart spent most of his days in cafes). This is one city that knows how to work and how to unwind. It might lack the breathless pace of a New York or London, but Vienna more than holds its own with a charm that is distinctly European.

It’s as if time has stopped – that it has raced through the city centres of the world, found its home in Vienna and is resting here. The thought makes me want to take a breather as well. Breaking my stroll through the Museum Quarter, I lie down on the crisp green grass and watch the world enfold before me.

A contemporary art exhibition at Vienna Secession, the world’s oldest independent art institution devoted to contemporary art, catches my interest. Art here, I realise, resides not only in the paintings, but also in the buildings, the music, the thinking and the pride of the people. This in itself is not without irony as many of these beautiful buildings (especially the Secession and Staatsoper) were genuinely disliked by the people when they were first built! Names roll off a local tour guide’s tongue as she rattles off names of architects, musicians and painters in a single breath. I learn that Otto Wagner, one of the most prominent Viennese architects, is among those one has to be grateful to for some of the splendid structures in the city.

Across from the Museum Quarter, the Hofburg Imperial Palace, which has hosted some of the most powerful people in Austrian history and is the residence of the President of Austria, is also a stop for the famous Fiakas (horse-driven carriages). Again, I’m back in time. For a princely sum of 40 euros, I can take a Fiaka ride around much of the Ringstrasse and relive the grandeur of the past. It is, however, the former summer palace of the Habsburg family, Schönbrunn, with its magnificent gardens, that is considered the ultimate palace experience in Vienna.

Baroque and Gothic, the imposing Stephansdom (St. Stephen’s Cathedral) is located smack in the heart of the city centre and is a beloved favourite. It’s always eventful to walk from the Wiener Staatsoper to Stephansdom through the pedestrian path paved with shops, cafes and performers. Watching the clever, talented performers, I snack on some traditional fast food — a Würstelstand or a sausage shoved into a humungous bread roll. A particularly tasty variation is the Burenwurst and Käsekrainer (sausage filled with cheese). It’s not unusual to find the stands crammed with kebab (Turkish sandwiches) and pizza offerings as well – a new addition to the fast food culture, I’m told.

Sitting in one of the cafés, I’m awestruck by the power of a middle-aged opera singer’s operatic vocals, amused by street performers vying for our attention with their jugglery, tricks and colourless jokes and quietly entertained by a pianist who rolls in her piano into the street to play to an appreciative audience.

The famed music culture of Vienna is outstanding. From street musicians to fabulous operas and ballets, Vienna throbs with exquisite sounds. I choose to attend the modern rendition of The Nutcracker, playing at the magnificent Wiener Staatsoper (Vienna State Opera). It’s a stunning performance, never mind the audience’s claims — overheard between acts over wine, chocolate and caviar – that it did not quite measure up the original.

An elegant local tradition is to enjoy a performance followed by a walk to the Sacher Hotel nearby to savour the original Sachertorte (a dessert composed of several thin layers of dry, slightly bitter chocolate cake with apricot jam in between, served with dollops of sugarless whipped cream) and rub shoulders with the best. Legend goes that the original torte was made by mistake by young apprentice Franz Sacher in 1832. Of course, it’s now world famous and Sacher Hotel’s best kept secret, even involving a long legal battle! Personally, I found the Appelstrudel and other pastries more exciting than the over-hyped Sachertorte. But the Sacher industry thrives as no tourist comes away without experiencing the original.

A great way to end the walk — drinks and dinner at the cosmopolitan DO & CO Stephansplatz with its spectacular view over the cathedral through full-length glass paved walls. I get a taste of refined Vienna as I tuck into the local weiner schnitzel (Viennese breaded veal cutlet, with various accompaniments) and watch bankers and high-profile associates in muted conversation.

I walk slowly back to the sophisticated Le Meridien, conveniently located on the Ring, across from the Staatsoper. As I enter, I witness a happening fashion party – with a showing of LISKA, one of the oldest fashion houses in Vienna. Swinging with some of Austria’s hippest, I take quick notes on the latest trends for Autumn-Winter 2007. A-line dresses, capes, clutch bags (particularly the crocodile leather sort), wide belts, patent leather boots, feathers and fringes are the latest ‘it’ sensations.

I suspect the Viennese temperament — sentimental and nostalgic — is rubbing off on me. In the wee hours of the morning, exhausted, though not world-weary, I stand by the long paned windows, staring out at the now peaceful, tree-lined Opernring Road. I pretend I live in this posh area.
This memorable walk across one of the finest cities in the world makes me want to believe this is home. I really don’t want to leave. Not yet.

Travel blog: Viennese Waltz

23 Friday Nov 2007

Posted by in Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Published: Verve Magazine, Travel, November 2007

Exult in the city’s rich delights

Suburban toast
Suburban Vienna is the place to try new Austrian wines and relax at a local Heurigen. These are the only places authorised to serve new wine, often accompanied by elaborate Viennese specialties or basic bread and cheese platters.

Deconstructed designs
Austrian fashion designer, Helmut Lang, is renowned for his minimalist, deconstructed designs. Originally from Vienna, Lang branched out to international fashion capitals like Paris and New York, with his own label.

Schrammelmusik for the soul
This Viennese folk music, popularised by the Schrammel brothers, Johann and Josef became immensely popular with the elite who were bowled over by the melodious, melancholic sound. A typical ensemble comprises two violins or fiddles, a double-necked contraguitar, a G clarinet and often, a button accordion called Schrammelharmonika. Many of Vienna’s famous composers, like Strauss, Brahms and Schönberg were Schrammelmusik enthusiasts.

Edelweiss blooming
The Edelweiss lives up to its translation of noble and white. Though found in other European nations, Austria’s national flower has shaped the world’s image of the county and the Alps. The Sound of Music’s most beloved song is dedicated to this little, big flower.

Coffee, anyone?
The Viennese are very serious about their coffee, traditionally served with a glass of chilled water. It’s sacrilege to just say you want ‘coffee’ when you’re spoilt for choice with varieties like Kleiner Schwarzer (small black coffee), Großer Brauner (large coffee with cream), Melange (coffee with milk), Kapuziner (small black coffee and a dash of cream) and Kaisermelange (coffee, milk, egg yolk and cognac). In the late 19th and early 20th century, leading writers frequently met and wrote at Viennese cafés, where much great music was also composed.