“Why do you go away so often?” my dogs ask me with their sad eyes. “Why did you fly to Paris not once or twice but four times so far and leave us at home in care of a pet sitter?” they ask. Well, for one thing Paris is more interesting then, say, Pittsburgh. But dogs do not buy this argument and I have human friends, too, who find London or Berlin more interesting than Paris. People, I conclude, travel for a variety of reasons.
Many a traveller will look forward to his or her trip to Florence because of the marvellous opportunities to find fine leather goods in elegant, inspiring shopping surroundings, unequalled at home. Our Wallmarts and Malls do not have quite the cachet as the via Tornabuoni. No need, of course, to travel abroad for brands like Gucci, Prada, or Ferragama. But how about some of the less known brands? There may be surprises waiting, labels like Jaeger, Herve Leger, Marchesa, Malandrino, Cavalli, Loewe, Da Milano, and Ferretti. That plus the ambience, the street life. Ah Firenze, la vita è bella!
Fascinating as fashion can be, window shopping is not everybody’s thing. In fact, most tourists will want to stop at least for one or two of the highlights of Florentine renaissance art, and if it only be Michelangelo’s David at the Galleria dell’ Accademia. Others get lost all day in the Galleria degli Uffizi or the Palazzo Pitti among a thousand famous paintings by artists whose names do not easily roll off non-Italian tongues.
Paris is not that bad a place to visit either. The City of Light! Romantic strolls on the banks of the Seine. Kissing couples on the Pont Alexandre, the bridge with the golden angels. Lunch at a little bistro not far from the Basilica of Sacre Coeur in an obscure street of the 18th District where nobody speaks English. Dinner at the Train Bleu near the Gare de l’Est railway station where everybody speaks English. Un café at the Deux Magots, the Two Monkeys of Existentialist fame, on Blvd. Saint Germain on the Left Bank.
But you can also skip all that and consider Paris to be one big history lesson, beginning with the story of Joan of Arc and leading to, but not ending with, the birth of the United States of America at no. 56 rue Jacob where Ben Franklin, John Adams, and John Jay signed the Treaty of Paris in 1783. Franklin was very popular in Paris at that time. Apparently he still is for they gave him a charming statue just across the river from the Eiffel Tower. Half a block away one also meets George Washington in bronze, on horseback on a huge plinth in the center of Place Iena, with the traffic swirling around him. Not far is a statue of Lafayette. Not to forget two or three statues of Thomas Jefferson, erstwhile Ambassador to the Court of France. There is also a monument honoring the American volontiers of 1914 and numerous other buildings and monuments that demonstrate how French and American history and culture are linked.
Lighthearted frivolity, art appreciation, the study of history — they are all equally valuable ways of spending tourist dollars. All of us have our preferences. But I am willing to bet that few if any of us would want to “do”, say Florence today, Venice tomorrow, Paris the day after, and then fly home again. And yet I knew a woman who tried to do just that. She wanted to see the cities that she believed had been the homes of some of her ancestors. Her adventure began with the idea that a sleeper cabin on an overnight train was far cheaper than a night at a hotel. Her plan was to visit Vienna, then sleep on the train while travelling to Geneva; visit Geneva, Bern, and Luzern that day, sleep on the train again and travel back to Vienna; and then fly home. Here is a brief summary of the ensuing whirlwind sequence of activities.
Day 1. Landed in Vienna. Of course she had heard about the Praterrad, the giant Ferris Wheel, “Third Man” and all that. So she went to see. Fell in with a couple who spoke English and lectured her on musical history, particularly the story of Beethoven. They suggested a visit to his former residence in Heiligenstadt, now a small museum. After lunch she stopped at the Dome of Saint Stephen where Josef Haydn was once a choirboy, then visited the house of Sigmund Freud who never was anybody’s choir boy. Stopped at the Cafe Am Dom where, to her surprise, dogs are admitted. They quietly stay out of sight under the tables. Then off to the Hofburg, trooping past fountains and statues, through castle wings, courtyards, halls, staircases, corridors, and apartments, including those of “Sisi”, a.k.a. Elizabeth, Empress of Austria.
Day 2. Arrived in Geneva by night train from Vienna. Stopped briefly down by the water to inspect the bronze marker on the spot where Sisi, the Empress whose apartments she had just inspected, was murdered. Went to see the Celestial Sphere. Didn’t know what to make of it. Other tourists didn’t either. Impressed by the huge fountain in the harbor, Geneva’s artificial answer to Yellowstone’s natural Old Faithful geyser. Loved the majestic Mont Blanc mountain range in the distance. After lunch by local train to Bern, a truly medieval town where they keep bears in a pit and where the chief tourist attraction is a massive clock tower, built about the year 1500. then to nearby Luzern and a cruise on Lake Luzern, the Vierwaldstaetter See as the natives call it. Saw the Wounded Lion carved into the bedrock in memory of the Swiss Guards who defended the French king’s castle during the French Revolution.
Day 3. Back in Vienna. There was so much left to see: the huge Karlskirche fronted by two columns that look like Muslim minarets, the Opera House, and the “Musikverein” building, made popular by annual New Year’s concerts on TV. Went for a piece of “Torte” at pricey Cafe Mozart across from the Spanish Riding School. Took the streetcar and passed the Johann Strauss monument. There are two composers by that name. Not sure which one was sculpted there. Did not matter, it seems. There was still the Secession museum to go to, and the Belvedere Palace of Prince Eugene, famous for its art collection. There were other things she could have gone to see but her head was bursting and her feet were killing her.
Needless to say, she came home with a brain packed full of impressions and tales. Nobody dared to correct her when she described in glowing colors such wonders of the world as the Zeitglockenturm of Luzern, the glorious interior of the Stephansdom where Beethoven once was a choir boy, the lions in the pit of Bern, the Wounded Bear of Vienna, and the wonderful time she had visiting the Schoenbrunn Palace on the shores of Lake Geneva. And would it have mattered? Pshaw! Dull facts. It’s the memories we cherish, “the memories of yesterday’s pleasures”, to steal a phrase from John Donne, the preacher.
If I remember it correctly, her greatest pleasure was to have saved five hundred dollars in hotel bills.
(c)2016 by Herbert H. Hoffman
Picture credits: kullabs.com