AVS Episode III: From Grenoble with Love

Previously on A Vacation Story: There’s a preface and two Episodes, before this, but it’s no big deal if you do not read them prior. I encourage you to though.

–This narration is dedicated to Eka, who hosted me in this city, and blessed me with more debates in five days than I had had in the prior twelve months.–

“I was hospitalized five time in 2011 because of my skiing. Fracturing my left shoulder twice, snapping my anterior cruciate ligament once and smashing my scapula into five pieces”- Heather Mills

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The last episode was a bit long right? Or maybe it was interesting enough for you not to notice the lengthiness. I’ll keep this shorter (at least 100 words shorter). Thanks for reading, ‘vous êtes géniales’.

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This city, Grenoble, is one of the three cities experienced in a five day vacation. However, I believe each city has its own identity and should be respected and treated as such, with a separate account.

It was Wednesday night, and as the sun bade goodnight, I hurried happily out of my apartment for yet another vacation. The train station is about 40mins from my residence and I was headed there, not to catch a train, but to meet up with strangers. Strangers I was to share the 8-hour road trip to Grenoble with. For the first time, I was using the ‘covoiturage’ (better known as Bla Bla Car), or simply put as carpooling, and I decided to essay with an 8-hour journey. How could I? What happened to taking baby steps? Or what happened to just taking a train or flying? I don’t know what got into me! You don’t believe that do you? I know perfectly what: It was cheaper, had travel companions, void of the strict departure time, better departure/arrival time (kill two beds with one stone – sleep and commute) and ultimately, it was an opportunity to test my French.

The journey was fun! I’m definitely going to try carpooling again. I didn’t feel 8 hours had passed at all. It felt like merely 4 hours, though I think that was because I slept for half the journey. We jammed ‘Breakfast in America’ by Supertramp on repeat, whilst we had random conversations. See me pretending like I was into the conversation. Eh Eh! I was always quick to say, ‘Ba Oui!, je ne sais pas.’

Thinking about it, if you drive through a city, can you say you’ve been to the city? I’d like to add all the cities driven past to the list of cities I’ve been to.

I arrived in Grenoble the following day at about 6a.m, a quick calculation, and you’ll figure out when I left my city. Further calculations, and you can estimate how many kilometres this south-eastern city of France is from my city. Then, you can know where I am so eager to leave to go on these numerous expeditions. Kidding. Of course you won’t figure it out that way. I’ll talk about my city in the final episode of the series. Watch out!

What’s special about Grenoble? It’s a valley city in the Rhône-Alpes region, surrounded by mountains, regarded as the capital of the Alps and known for the dangerous sports of mountain climbing and more prominently skiing. Maybe it got a little more famous, at least within the circle of F1 fans, when seven-time champion and legend M. Schumacher hit his head whilst skiing in December 2013. You have people who journey across continents just for the purpose of skiing in this region. So, if Grenoble is that renowned for skiing, wouldn’t it have been better if I’d gone during winter? Emphatically, No. I don’t do sports my regular insurance doesn’t cover and to avoid any form of ‘demonic’ temptation, I made sure to go after the ice had melted. Supplementally, I went for this 24-hour visit with shoes that weren’t suited for climbing.

Out there in Grenoble, it’s a ‘must’ to go up the Bastille, and what better way to do so than by the admirable cable car (bubbles), the first urban cable car in the world. Certainly, it wasn’t the same that was installed in 1930’s. (I’m sorry M.O.I Jr.). I know you wanted my first time on a cable car to be with you but someone else had that pleasure). The view from the Bastille was MAGNIFICENT, and to think it would have been better viewing when the snow was still in place. Awe.

View of the City from the Bastille

In this city, I came to realise that a beautiful thing about touring and going to new places is connecting with strangers. People who seek a similar experience as you – the elation that comes with discovering things outside your prior orbit. Meeting people from different countries on a common foreign ground. Meeting your next door neighbour (Nigeria – Cameroon), 6,000 km away from home in the mountains of the Alps.

 

And to wrap it up, guess what? I visited 12 cities within a 300km radius in 8-hours.

 

Le Drapeau du Dauphiné

 

Next on A Vacation Story: From Nice with Love

Ski… Break apart… Rise up… Ski again

“I was hospitalized five time in 2011 because of my skiing. Fracturing my left shoulder twice, snapping my anterior cruciate ligament once and smashing my scapula into five pieces” – Heather Mills

AVS Episode II: From Nantes with Love

Previously on A Vacation Story: There’s a Preface and Episode I, but ‘ce n’est pas grave’ if you do not read them prior. You can follow this episode perfectly.

This narration is dedicated to a MAnn of substance, of great immense, of timbre and calibre, a treasured friend who welcomingly explored the treasures of this city with me.

“One day… little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers” – Martin Luther King Jr.

A Section of Nantes as seen from the Tour Bretagne (Brittany Tower)

This vacation wasn’t family/friends time. This was TOURIST time.

Nantes is likely not a city whose name is presently available in your repertoire of knowledge. Well, up till the moment you read the title of the post. Don’t feel bad about that. I didn’t know this city either until I spun the travel globe and it stopped with the pin pointing to Nantes. Voila! You may want to check a map to know the country it’s in. Just kidding. I’ll tell. It’s in western France. The heart of the ‘Pays de la Loire’ region, and former capital of the historic Brittany (Bretagne).

Arriving at the Nantes train station using the French high speed train, TGV, at 15h00 on Saturday, we were eager to discover the city right away. However, first things must come first – Selfie with the train in background. I’m sorry I won’t put the lovely picture here, we are shy to display our faces to the public. You may find it on twitter or instagram though (I’m sure some have seen it already). :D.

Saturday, 17h00 :

Our first stop was at the ‘Floralies Internationale’, an exhibition of flowers which holds in the city every four years. As you probably know, spring is generally the time for the display of flowers in all their grandeur. There were an amazing collection of flowers set in awesome themes based on cultures from the four corners of the earth. It was not just a display of flowers, it was art. Normally, I’m not a fan of flowers, but I do like art, and I felt at home. We planned to spend two hours but lost track of time, enough for us to spend three and half.

A Theme from ‘Floralies Internationale’

Saturday, 21h00 :

Hurrying out of the exhibition, we headed for a French musical concert (so we thought) at ‘St. Pierre et Paul, Cathédrale de Nantes’. Yeah, we don’t understand French but then, music is a universal language. There was a surprisingly long queue for tickets at the entrance and here we were thinking, it’s catholic and in France, it can’t be full. After staying in line for 20mins, 5 persons from getting a ticket, “c’est complet” they said. Nah! No way! ‘Dem must find space oh, even if na to lap’. Eventually, we got tucked in a corner of the cathedral, where we had to ‘giraffe’ to get a good view. And then… French talk, more talk, a little music, and then more talk, some acting, more talk, more talk, some pictures, parades, some acting, more talk, more parades, brief music. It was an historical narration of the city, supported with acting, and music for background effect. We had thought it’ll be music, supported with acting, and narration in background. Regardless of our lack of comprehension of the details of the show, I must admit that it was nice. I had never seen so much costuming in a stage act before, nor had I seen so many actors. There must have been up to 200 actors. We were awed to the extent that we didn’t take photos.

Sunday, 00h01 :

At this time, we weren’t ready to call it a night. So, we stopped by at a Venice-themed party. We should have had masks right? Well, we didn’t. Why? Erhmmmm… we were crashing and felt our faces were so ugly it’ll be taken as masks. *rolls eyes*. There was this dude, Jas, who made this beer mix – ‘Michelada’. Let me try to recall the recipe. Yes recipe. 1 litre of cold blond beer (If you use Guinness, *in Rita Dominic’s voice* ‘Oyo is your case’) + 2 tea spoons of maggi chicken sauce + 3 table spoons of freshly squeezed Lime + ½ table spoon of white pepper + garlic/ginger/onion/salt to taste. Rub some red pepper on the rim of the drinking glass before pouring in the mix. The taste – fizzy fuzzy spicy awesome. The effect – lol! Please feel free to try this at home. Just don’t refer to this blog as your source if it goes wrong (You’ve been warned).

Jas is somewhere in there

Sunday, 11h00 :

We like to experience mass in the local language of the city we are in. This time, it was French. It wasn’t at the cathedral, however, we headed for the cathedral right after. The little view we had of the cathedral the previous night had made us thirsty, we had to go back there in daylight. Describing architecture is not my strong point – some marvels are to be left to the eyes of those that have beheld them.

Cathédrale St. Pierre et St. Paul

Sunday, 14h00 – 20h00 :

Quite a lot was covered during this period. Thinking about it, I’m actually amazed. So, if you decide to visit Nantes, take note of the places you must go and the route.

We started by taking a walk along the Erdre, a major tributary of the Loire (the longest river in France), towards the great memorial wall for the ones lost in the wars, then to the statue of ‘Charles de Gaulle’. A memorabilia of CDG (general during world war II and president of France for 10 years) and Victor Hugo (author of the Hunchback of Notre Dame) is something a lot of French cities have, often in form of a statue and street, respectively. Afterwards, we visited the ‘Chateau des Ducs de Bretagne’, the last castle to the left along the Loire, about 300m away. Here, we experienced the history of the city and coupled with the narration of the previous day, we can say we know how the city came to be in her present form. On the way to our next stop which was a promenade of Memorial to the Abolition of Slave Trade, we passed by some jolly kids having a tractor ride, window shopped at La Fayette, and walked through ‘place du Bouffay’, historical as a square for public executions. You know, the chopping of the head thing with a guillotine. The ground was soaked red in blood. Just kidding. Of course not, that was way back, before the 19th century. At Mediateque square, just before the place of the memorial, there was a Brittany festival (Fête de Bretagne) ongoing, where we experienced first-hand, the intriguing Celtic dance. The walk through the memorial promenade was one of meditation and contemplation on the lives our ancestors lived, of the bravery of Olaudah Equiano, the determinedness of Abraham Lincoln, and the dream had by Martin Luther King Jr. Nantes was a major harbour city for slave ships. The memorial led us to an Island, specifically to the famous machines of the Island. Welcoming us with proud strides and sprouting water was the giant mechanical elephant. It led us to the grand carousel of the island and then to the rings of Daniel Buren, lined by the edge of the Loire.

When we left the Island, we sought the ‘passage pommeraye’, not for any spectacular reason, but just to mark the register that we have walked through the monumental passage.

L’Éléphant

Sunday, 20h00 – ‘When hunger don nearly fire us finish’ :

Finally, it was time to end the evening with dinner. And what better place to have dinner in Nantes than the exalted historic restaurant, La Cigale, located next to the city theatre, Theatre Graslin. We were offered an untranslatable menu, which I tried, albeit without success, with my little French, to translate to my friend. At least I could identify Rice, Fish, Meat, Potato, Fries. But when you tell me my meal is ‘fruits de mer’. You must be confused. Fruits don’t grow in the sea. That’s one of the easier ones to decipher though. Even the waitress, who spoke both English and French well, couldn’t do any better. I wonder how they come up with these names for meals. The meal was a bit expensive, but worth nearly every penny.

That was supposed to be the perfect ending, but like the tourist that we were, having the insatiable touristic hunger, we just had to stretch it further. Walking through the ‘place Royale’, the square of the city fountain, we went to the Tour Bretagne (Brittany Tower), the tallest building in Brittany. From the top of this tower, we saw the entire city and beyond, trying to identify the places we’d been to during the course of the day.

With up to 20km and 10,000s of calories burnt that day, we slept nearly immediately we got on the bus back to our hotel. ‘I no blame us. Na driver gast wake us wen we reach final stop’.

Monday :

On the final day of the vacation in Nantes, we took things slow, starting out at 13h00. First, we toured one of the best Universities in France (one of the best is a wide range though), École Nationale Supérieure des Mines de Nantes. Thereafter, we went to the musée d’impremerie. The only museum visited throughout this tour of Nantes. At this place, we learnt about the history of modern printing and explored the works of Johannes Gutenberg, often referred to as the father of modern printing. ‘If you know the kain work wey dem dey do just to print one page dat time. Nna Mehn!’

I hear French pancakes are the best. So we searched around looking for pancakes. Not that they are hard to find, but unfortunately, we were out at the wrong time. All crêperie (a place where pancakes are made and sold) were closed for the afternoon. Maybe this was all about the world acclaimed French ‘quality of life’ or just closure for sanitation. What to do? Hang around for two hours till they open? Nah. We’ll pass. Alas! We got home and couldn’t get our minds of the pancakes. ‘Omo! We carry our legs waka back go find those pancakes for night’. It sure was worth it.

We journeyed out of Nantes the following morning; not to end the vacation, but to continue in another city. 😉

And to wrap it up, guess what? I don’t know the gender of the two people referenced in this narration. Do you? Did you mentally ascribe a gender to them? I’d like to know.

 

Next on A Vacation Story: From Grenoble with Love

One day…

“One day… little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers” – Martin Luther King Jr.

AVS Episode I: From London with Love

*There’s a preface to this post, but no ‘wahala’ if you do not read the preface.*

–This narration is dedicated to Mrs M.O.I (Jnr), who assisted in making this vacation awesome with her ‘stay at home’ meals and journey management.–

“Pussy cat, Pussy cat, where have you been? I’ve been to London to look at the queen…”

Ingress Abbey

If you started speaking English or the variation of English ‘wey my people dey speak’ at an early age and you didn’t sing or recite this opening folk, you didn’t have a childhood. Word! ‘Even me wey go aje pako primary school sing am wella’; dreaming of the day I would finally go to London, see the queen, the pussy cat or at least the mouse. ‘Bad as e bad’.

Well, I have finally been to London. Sadly though, I saw none of the queen, the pussy cat or the mouse. I guess it’s not easy to see them, innit?

The vacation started off in a pretty regular manner – train station + airport. Until… What’s that experience you always hope against when you have a flight to catch? Uhn Uhn! Yeah! I had it. It was very sad, but then, I wasn’t going to let that distract me from the pleasure I sought out of the vacation. And so, I’m not going to say anything further about it. Interestingly though, I had none of the scrutiny for carrying an agriculturally green passport. For some weird reason, I was kind of looking forward to it. It’s not as bad as they make it seem. Ah! I can’t say that about Italy though. ‘Those’ their airport police or whatever they are called ‘no dey’ smile at all. ‘Red eye!’. You need to be really careful travelling to or through those airports in Italy.

Arriving at the airport, closest to the heart of London, I was picked up by my host, a lady relative of mine, whom I hadn’t seen in over 2 years. Wow! How quickly time flies when you’re living life. Or more like, how easily we are unconscious of how long it has been since we last saw or spent time with a close acquaintance. Thanks to Facebook, Skype and their likes.

First things first – let’s make arrangements for food. “Do you want Nigerian meals?”, she asked. “Of course! Yes, of course”, I answered. My sojourn over the past year had left me without the sweetness of my native meals. Especially the soups – the variety of draw soups and vegetables. It’s very true that what you are likely to miss the most, when away from home, after family is food. Those meals your taste buds are used to, and your digestive system accustomed. The smells that get you drooling and anticipating the final buzz of the timer on the cooker. So, we took a drive to Woolwich, a neighbourhood notorious for its Nigerian population; specifically to the store ‘ades’. Ahn Ahn! ‘What are we talking!?’ Nna meeeehn! This is home. ‘See as the store resemble that of Iya Ranti’, with the welcoming ‘moin-moin elémìí méje’ wrapped in leaves (miracle berry – ewé eran).

Two days went by, and then it was Sunday. The time for a big family hang-out. I take it for granted that you can imagine how awesome the food and drinks were. *singing* ‘Mummy in the kitchen, cooking rice. Daddy in the parlour, mixing drinks’. As the youngest in the house of my generation, and the only engineer present, I was giving the task of stringing a kite for the kids, which I must say, I had never done before. All the time, I was thinking, “If a whole ‘top grade’ engineer like me mess this one up. Chai! It shan’t be funny”. I mustn’t even give off the appearance that it’s a difficult task. Anyway, it was easier than I had envisaged. Godzilla was set for flight. Did it fly? 😀

Once, I tried to order food. Over the last few months, due to staying in an environment wherein the common language is that which I do not comprehend. I had learnt to shut off to street chit-chat and random eavesdropping. I’d also developed the auto-responses “I’m sorry, I don’t speak this language” (translated), when randomly approached on the streets, and “Please speak slowly”, when directly approached. It did happen that the dude that was taking my order spoke to me whilst trying to take my order. First time he spoke. Auto-response – “Please speak slowly”. Second time, I thought… Erhmmm… Wait oh! This dude is speaking English na. How come I don’t understand? Third time, shoot! My companion had to translate to ‘English’. Take this English and give me French. I hadn’t realised prior that the accent used might actually be a bigger barrier to communication than the language itself.

I heard Bluewater, Dartford, is second largest mall in the UK (Unverified). So, I was there a few times and I had two stand-out experiences. First, I was lured to trying out the massage chair thing. I mean, I have a physiotherapist at home (not equal to masseuse, I know). 1 pound down the hole for 8mins of an experience I can’t explain in writing. Secondly, I ate at Tortilla. Awful. Awful. Awful. I had a burrito that would have made me never want to eat any Mexican meal again, if not that I had eaten other Mexican meals made by a regular male student. On a softer note, it may just have been a bad day at the restaurant. Excuse.

Finally, I kept looking out for those ‘Free Wi-Fi’ signs. I can’t be roaming. There seemed to have been a lot around. Entering stores just for the sake of Wi-Fi. Even the airport had in the general lounge.

Vacations are meant to be rejuvenating. This definitely was.

Are you wondering if that’s all about a vacation in London? Well, that’s what M.O.I ‘s breakfast, lunch and dinner can do. Breakfast before my lazy *** was up at 11am. Lunch before I had had a shower. The smell of dinner filling the house before I could hurry out after lunch. ‘How I wan take waka far na?’ But more importantly, spending time with family long last seen is a great way to vacation. One doesn’t have to do the whole tourist thing of endless sight-seeing; racing from the tower of London to the palaces of Buckingham and Westminster, or over the tower bridge into historical museums, passing through Trafalgar square to the Westminster abbey, whilst stopping over to check the time on the Big Ben; switching loyalty from Arsenal to Tottenham to Fulham to Chelsea or to the lesser clubs.

I didn’t do all that, yet I had a great time. Maybe I left all those out as an excuse to go back. Maybe. *smiles*

And to wrap it up, guess what? I went back home with a British accent after 7 days.

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat

“Pussy cat, Pussy cat, where have you been?

I’ve been to London to look at the queen

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, what did you do there?

I frightened a little mouse, right under the chair”

A Vacation Story: Preface

“If you come home as happy as you leave, you have had a good vacation” – Author Unknown

First, let’s set the scene on what a vacation is. Although the words holiday and vacation may be synonymous, in my books and in the context here used, there is a difference. A holiday is simply a day(s) of break from school or work. You may do as you wish with the day. However, a vacation is leisure time away from work and home, and devoted to pleasure. For a vacation, staying indoors watching movies or cuddling whilst getting fat on chips and ordered meals is not an option. Never! Jamais!

Summer! Summer! Summer!

Ok, it’s technically not yet summer. But the sun is shining at 9pm; it’s freaking bright till 10pm, and with temperatures up to 25°C in cities far up north of the equator. Fine, that doesn’t make it summer. Spring yeah? Well, whether summer or spring, what I know is… the periods for vacations have commenced.

Here starts a series of posts related to vacations experienced in spring/summer this year. All vacation stories are truly experienced. I have no intention of falsely promoting or demeaning any city. However, they are not solely my personal experiences, but all are written referring to me, as if I experienced them all. Which ones are my experiences? You’ll have to know me personally to distinguish.

I’m not a very enthusiastic or optimistic or sociable person. In fact, I am the introvert who got away. So, if I tell you a vacation was great… trust me it was.

Enjoy and Learn! Journey with me.

Disclaimers: Do not use these posts as a travel guide, if you want to travel to any of the cities referred to, check a proper travel guide, or better still, contact me. We could work something out. 😉 . I say this, not because I don’t trust my description but it’s just a disclaimer. Same way a reality TV shows you stunts and then tells you, “Don’t do this at home”.

Do not use this series for any form of English language reference. A lot of informal (street) expressions are used. I’ll attempt to place them in ‘inverted commas’, especially those written in Nigerian pidgin – ‘brokin’, and expressions written in a language other than English.

If you come home as happy…

“If you come home as happy as you leave, you have had a good vacation” – Author Unknown