Travel Writing – Page 8

Postcard from Montreux

September 2009 – “Lakeside Promenade Fleuri”

I am sitting here on a bench overlooking Lake Geneva in the lakeside town of Montreux. Whenever I hear that name it makes me smile and remember a band from my youth, Deep Purple, and their song “Smoke on the Water”.

We all came out to Montreux
On the Lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn’t have much time…

The lead singer Ian Gillan was one of only two posters on my bedroom wall when I was a teenager. The other was Robert Plant. It was a very small bedroom.

It is mid-afternoon and the sun is shining on me, though the other side of the lake is shrouded in mist and I can only see vague outlines of the stunning mountains that I know are there. I am on my own at the moment as my husband is still at a conference in Geneva where we have been for the past week. I had decided that after the conference in Geneva we should extend our stay in Switzerland to celebrate my birthday and wedding anniversary in Montreux in a romantic old hotel on the lakeside.

The Hotel Eden Palace au Lac – an old lady right on the lakeside. Cheaper than some of the more modern hotels and a little faded gem. There are no buildings in front of us so our room overlooks the lake. The views will be impressive if the fog lifts. I hope it does before we leave on Tuesday. It is a tiny bedroom with a disproportionately large chandelier, but it does have a petite balcony with a table and two chairs so we can sit outside and the bathroom has definitely seen better days and is quite a squeeze, but the room is clean which is my main concern. (Our room is behind the letter L in Palace)

After checking in this afternoon I came down to the promenade that runs for 10km along the shore of Lake Geneva, from Vevey to the Château de Chillon. This path is lined with palm trees and exotic flowers, while the magnificent views extend across the lake to the Alps and into Savoy. Have I mentioned the fog? I can’t really see much of the mountains, but I can sense their presence all around me. Continue reading Postcard from Montreux

Plainpalais Flea Market

Old shoes, scuffed and oddly shaped by old feet,
Heels run down, soles flapping.
Miles of dusty pavements
Ingrained in the cracked leather.
For sale?
Surely not.
Electrical items from a bygone era
Pose safety implications for sure.
A VHS larger than any I have seen before.
So much tat.
Chipped and ugly painted vases
Lie amongst broken crockery
And balding teddy bears,
Once loved
Now forgotten.
LPs without covers
More than likely scratched
Causing that irritating repetition
When the needle jumps
And stutters
Again
And again.
And again.
Curiously there is an entire car engine
Rusty and tired
Like the car it once belonged in.
And a motherboard!
I recognise the jumpers,
The switches,
The spaces for the RAM,
And Video cards.
Almost an antique.
Almost definitely useless.
Close by is combat gear
And camouflage clothing,
Rusty saws and axes,
Swords and other miscellaneous evil-looking instruments
Of torture.
Or maybe not.
My imagination is getting the better of me,
they are probably gardening tools.
An elephant’s foot table.
Now that must be illegal to sell.
Or buy.
I grimace.
Indian puppet dolls
Are much more cheerful,
But I don’t stop.
Tables full of coins and clothing, glassware and china.
Bundles of straw which leave me wondering
What one would do with them
In a city.
Like this.
Time for me
to move on.

~wander.essence~ poetry

Impressions

Yvoire – a floral medieval village in France on Lac Léman (lake Geneva)

I have no idea how I came to hear about Yvoire, maybe a search for gardens in the area when I was planning my trip to Geneva back in 2009. I always want to check out the gardens in a place I visit so do a search and then make notes of the ones I can fit in, including times and days open etc. When I discovered ‘Le Jardin des Cinq Sens’ (The Garden of Five Senses) was just a ferry ride from Geneva and the fact it is in a place called the ‘floral’ town then I had to make it happen.

The Gate of Rovorée (or Gate of Thonon) built into the ramparts of Yvoire.

I am not going to talk about the garden here, that deserves a post of its own, though if you click on the link you will get a sense of how it affected me. I will write a fuller post on the garden blog.

Yvoire is not all about this garden: the medieval centre is romantic and famous for its flowers, cobbled streets, town walls and a wonderful historic chateau (private) going back to 1306 and a time when Lake Geneva castles played an important role in protecting the strategic trade routes through the Alps and along the lake. Probably best to time your visit outside of peak holiday time as it can become very crowded.

Yvoire Castle as viewed from Le Jardin des Cinq Sens

As I leave the port along with many other disembarking passengers I debate whether to eat first or explore. When I notice that everyone was else was headed for the restaurants the decision was made. Explore.

Once I get behind the camera I am lost in the zone. My eyes flit from flower to flower. The heat brings out the scents, the bees are busy humming and the gentle trickle of water from the drinking fountains are all I hear. Most people are busy eating in the numerous eateries in the village so I am able to wander in peace. Murmurs of conversations blending into the background. I saunter along the lanes and alleys lost in the history and beauty of this place.

Yvoire Castle as viewed from the ferry port

Everywhere you look are flowers: hanging baskets, window boxes on every balcony, containers crammed into tiny nooks and crannies, flowers along the narrow lanes and steps leading to the marina, flowers on steps. Begonias, petunias, pelargoniums. A riot of colour. And then there are the colourful shutters: pale blues and greens, turquoise.

The streets and alleys within the medieval walls are lined with restaurants, bars, tea shops, ice-cream makers, creperies, boutiques and artisan workshops. The unusual onion dome of St Pancras was constructed in 1857, replacing the old campanile. It was eventually covered in stainless steel in 1989 and the top is covered with gold leaf coming from one of the last gold miller in France located in Excenevex, near Yvoire. The church itself dates from 1250.

The castle, although privately owned and not open to the public, dominates the village and is a must for photographers. The only question is where to take the photo(s) from. I try to find some unusual angles

Stepping outside the two gates I discovered more floral displays as well as sculptures, hotels and car parks and bus stops. By now it was time to visit that garden, before everyone else descended upon it.

The Gate of Geneva (or Gate of Nernier) built in the ramparts of the medieval village of Yvoire.

Sculpture

I did finally have some lunch, a little late, but delicious all the same. And what better place than the Brasserie Les Cygnes (swans) in the ferry port where I tucked into Tarte à la tomate et au chèvre, salade mixte and a bier blond citron. Followed by a desert called ‘Baby Estelle’ consisting of pistachio ice-cream, fruit of forest sorbet and sauce and whipped cream. Well I had done a lot of walking. I enjoyed sitting on the upstairs terrace overlooking the port and the lake and reflecting on my day out whilst waiting for the boat back to Geneva.

~wander.essence~ Prose

On Journey

“It was hot. Unusually so for Switzerland in late September. The lake was covered in a hazy fog as the boat (Henri Dunant) left Geneva at 09:15 and sailed from one quay to another along the Swiss shore before zigzagging across the lake to the French side.

After coffee and a croissant in the restaurant I took myself up onto the deck so I could absorb the scenery. As we approached each town, buildings appeared and disappeared through the mist: church towers and romantic turrets, quays adorned with flowers and queues of people patiently waiting in the soft sunshine, shuttered windows and petite balconies overlooked the lake.

Sleepy boats tied to wooden jettys belonging to millionaire’s houses on the shoreline. Autumnal tints in the trees. A white swan at Coppet. Straight lines of vineyards on the hillside.

The sun broke through as we left Nyon. A yacht lazily passed by, not much wind in its sails. As we approached Nernier on the French shore, the mist revealed a quiet harbour. Covered boats, closed parasols, empty chairs on the terrace of the café, odd pollarded trees.

Departing we got our first glimpse of Yvoire. My destination. The marina and the chateau and the shiny silver-topped church steeple.

I had read about this medieval town famous for its flowers and ‘Le Jardin des Cinq Sens’ (The Garden of Five Senses) and knew that during my brief visit to Geneva I had to try to get there. As the boat left the dock I was eager to depart and start photographing the floral town.”

It is rare that I choose to travel by water. I am not a good sailor, but a lake is generally calm and it is not usually a problem plus on this occasion I was drawn a place that I couldn’t easily reach any other way. On the journey back to Geneva I managed to catch one of the jewels in the Belle Epoque fleet – the Savoie – an elegant paddle steamboat which deserves its own post.

~wander.essence~ On Journey

Impressions

Cathy’s travel stories on ~wander.essence~ has made me hunt out an old travel journal that I used to take with me on overseas trips to look for snippets that could be turned into poems or prose for the travel writing invitations on her site. This is the first of my ‘Impressions’ series and I hope she and you enjoy it.

Carouge, Geneva’s Italianate district, was created by a bunch of architects from Turin in the 18th century as an independent town.

“I catch the tram from Plainpalais to the terminus in Carouge with the intention of walking back to the River Arve following the tram lines to photograph the Italianate architecture.

I am charmed by the shuttered townhouses and thrilled with the hidden courtyards, secret gardens, a small world, typically “carougeois”. I idly wonder if there is a map showing them all, as I poke my nose into a few of them. I eat a wonderful vegetarian wrap in one. The wrap was a little messy to eat, but the combination of crisp lettuce, mozzarella, marinated aubergines and tomatoes was delectable. Only CHF6.50 so a bargain here in Geneva. The courtyard where I am sitting to write this is a delightful restful place. The sound of running water from the drinking fountain can be heard, joyful birdsong and the faint hum of a tram going by, the occasional sound of ringing church bells in the distance. The drinking water is crystal clear and cold. Poured from a sublime brass spout shaped like a jaguar’s head. Why a jaguar? I might be confused.

I draw a little sketch of my courtyard.

Carouge is such a pretty ‘village’. Many of the older buildings have wonderful wooden shutters, some faded and peeling, but just so right, some have wrought-iron balconies often with a bike leaning against them or washing hanging from lines strung between the shutters.

I cannot stop taking photos of the wonderfully ornate fountains that can be found along the street and in the squares. I am fascinated by what I first think are black swans, but later learn are Basilisks, a legendary reptile reputed to be a serpent king who can cause death with a single glance. Although I think the ones below probably ARE swans.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays Carouge gets a further boost with the arrival of the market on the lovely Place du Marché. Although I am unable to buy anything as I am staying in a hotel, I can enjoy looking around the stalls where fruit and veg, cheese, honey, fresh bread, flowers, wine and locally made treats are for sale.

As I drift past fountains and flowers the basilisks with their water spouting out I turn my camera to shops and shop signs, a theatre, more shutters – predominately green – street signs and sculptures, cafés, a church, more fountains.

People come here for the many restaurants and shops. It is true that the area’s numerous independent shops and artisanal workshops turn any shopping spree into an adventure, but I am too curious to be satisfied with that. I want to know what makes Carouge different to the rest of Geneva.

As I reach the River Arve I look along the river before catching a bus back to the city, but Carouge is hidden from view. A secret enclave of Geneva. I like it.”

~wander.essence~ prose