My best travel companion is my accidental husband Ashim. Beyond Indian borders, he submits to me like fish to the ocean. I am inadvertently braver, speak a zillion languages, thanks to Google Translate, and friendly. That is till they discover his wit. Once the ice is broken, I only record. He spends, I navigate and, yes, connect with our friends all over the world, often just to be with them after long gaps.

AACHEN, GERMANY

Recently, we visited Europe because my husband wanted to be with our writer friend E, who has now moved from Basel in Switzerland to Aachen in Germany. He is married to a doctor from Germany. The family had travelled to India as the kids wanted to see the country and meet dad’s friends, who they often spoke with on Internet calls, but had never met. Here, they stayed for three weeks at The Tollygunge Club and Hyatt, and relished the Indian cuisine both at the club and in our home. So, in time, Ashim gave in to his uncle duties and travelled to their place.

We flew Air India for better arrival timings and it was a bit of a surprise. The private takeover had improved the experience a lot except for the uniforms of the air hostesses, which seemed neither comfortable nor fashionable.

E let us have his previous family apartment that’s close to a hospital with a helipad, where whirring rescue and medical aid choppers kept landing every now and then. We unwinded at midnight with some beers the German way, sandwiches that we made, and some very healthy snacks. The kitchen was well-stocked. At E’s previous house in Basel, I had been the official chef to his art fraternity, who wanted to have Indian food. We went to sleep while it was still daylight. We were in Europe in summer after all and 10pm seemed like 7pm. Ashim was in the ‘How will I sleep now?’ mode, but was snoring away soon enough.

Next day, E drove us to the Dreilandereck, a three-border point — Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium — near Aachen, a drivable distance to the highest point of The Netherlands, the top of Vaalserberg. It’s a popular hike and also has shops from all three countries, eateries representing each country and a tower from where you can see all three sides. On top, despite the protection ring, the wind can throw you off if you don’t hold on. I, for one, almost flew off.

Ages ago, it was known a smuggling point. Today, it sports a maze and scenic beauty to enthrall and invigorate the most tired minds. Like Bengalis, Belgians, too, love fries. So, E and A headed for the Belgian fries eatery for a huge pack. E usually avoids snacking, but A ate like he found his lost soul in food. I picked at a few knowing my diet was not going to be in favour this travel season.

On our way back, chilled to the bone — the wind was lethal — we trooped over to the Aldi and Hit department stores. A loves exploring everywhere we travel to get the flavour of the local bajar. Looking for Indian spices, he found something similar, but none truly made in India. We tripped on the range of healthy food options like breads and biscuits. ‘No UPI?’ was A’s very surprised exclamation at the check out counter. We had to pay by credit card.

MONSCHAU, GERMANY

Monschau in Germany is a picture-postcard-pretty town close to the Belgian border. A short drive from Aachen, it is located bang in the middle of the Eifel nature reserve. The drive itself is straight out of a movie scene and with the right kind of conversation and music, you feel like a movie star. Park at many of the parkomats, then walk through the entire old town, known as Altstadt, visit the castle, enjoy the Erlebnismuseum Lernort Natur, educate yourself about the flora and fauna of the Eifel region, visit the historic mustard mill, Senfmuhle Monschau, and watch the glass-blowing demos at the Glashutte.

The historical centre of the town looks the same from 300 years ago when it was built. With half-timbered houses, wooden bridges over the Rur river, cobbled roads and narrow alleys, it is a photographer’s delight, a place so pristinely preserved that all you need is a costume and the movie is good to go.

If you harbour half the mind of a traveller and a romantic like me, you might want to sit on one of those benches next to the church and watch people with the cool air kissing your cold cheeks. Well-heeled gentry pass by talking and laughing, and the fanciest cars drive by, but never so loudly as to break the medieval rhythm. Hikers and bicyclists enjoy the town as it offers itself as a breather in-between the natural trail around that has beautifully appointed cafes.

Small quaint souvenir stores sport handmade blown glass articles, mustard bottles, magnets, paintings, photographs and clothes. The red house built in 1760, which one can go into and see, is still the way it was then: the residence of an upper middle class merchant dealing in textiles. It’s a four-storey place with a central wooden staircase. Imagine the same setting in winter, under snow with twinkling light and cheer in the air.

Monschau is also a very well-known Christmas market for people from Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany. So, a lot of different cuisines are found at different eateries that often run full across seasons as it close to the heart of most Europeans and hasn’t had a  touristy takeover like other medieval towns in Europe. We did lunch at Monschau’s touted best, Zum Haller.

On our way back, we decided to dine at one of Natalia and Eugene’s favourite Vietnamese restaurants, Liam’s, in Aachen. A was happy because it meant Asian cuisine, something he knows and deeply appreciates, and E knew that a little bit of those noodles and rice was all it would take to make A primed for his next day trip to Maastricht, a university city at the southern tip of the Netherlands.

MAASTRICHT, THE NETHERLANDS

This is a vibrant city where modern architecture has not disturbed or destroyed the medieval structures and cobbled roads. It’s home to a lot of brands, homegrown stores, Turkish cotton suits and coats, and plenty of skincare and cosmetics, both names known worldwide as well as understated old-look stores. Cafes, village marketplace (it was that day when we went there), lines of florists with their blooms, and upscale eateries in the main marketplace is the buzz.

A was delighted. It meant he could shop and so off he went with E to stock-up on those awesome blazers and suits. I went for the blooms, it seemed surreal to discover tulips and, as a bunch, to take home. Fresh cherries, plums and apricots, strawberries fresh and unsoiled, basil for E, the whole plant actually, such freshness and organic produce is stunning.

It was a bright that day when three old friends, us, sat basking in the sun and walked down lanes and alleys like three adolescents, happy to be left alone, to saunter and savour the vibe and behave like we were to the vibe-born. Like any university city, the gregarious youth had taken over the place in spirit and settings. Their walk had the spring of laughter in them and the upbeat attitude spiked the whole atmosphere.

The old town has a gothic-style church called Sint Janskerk and near it is the Romanesque Basilica of St Servatius, which sports a collection of religious art. The futuristic-looking Bonnefanten art museum is located on the banks of the Meuse river, that sort of bisects the city.

BRUGES, BELGIUM

E being unavailable the following weekend, we bought tickets and made our way to Bruges, the capital of West Flanders in the Flemish Region of Belgium. It’s an ideal locale for winding down, shutting off those crazy city batteries, tripping on history and the beautiful landscape, OD-ing on Belgian chocolates and even taking a crash course on how to make them, indulging in a chocolate museum, and observing how lace still sits fancy at various stores and boutiques at the main marketplace.

The city has many Unesco sites. Small buses take you there. Small because they need to ply along narrow cobblestone alleys. It’s best take the bus, make notes of the spots you want to revisit and then go there on foot or by boat. Apart from their fries, chocolates and waffles, Belgian beers score high. The whole city has innumerable medieval hotspots, full of dark and light-hearted history, some with gory details. I, for one, went for the gory ones.

While I visited the town hall and imposing cathedrals and museums displaying Salvador Dali, A went from one chocolatier to the next, stocking up on variety like he does for fish back home. Still not done, he trooped down to those ladies selling homemade chocolates at the village fair at the main Markt Place. For photo ops he did join me at the famed stone bridges, historic windmills and even boat landings.

I quietly nursed a cut on my knee and another on on my lips after a small accident on the way to Bruges. Despite the pain, we lived in Bruges like we should, even sauntering out to see the city at night. It looked even more magical with the silence of the empty alleys, the reflections of medieval buildings on the water, music wafting through the pubs around the main square, and stone bridges with vines and blooms lacing in the setting where romance should come easy and fairy tales easier.

Eateries were aplenty in Bruges. Our waiter at one was a Nepali man who was happy to speak with us in his own tongue. He pointed us to the first watering hole of Bruges, a tiny cafe bar which looked like it had seen history unfurl at close quarters and had retained its old rustic furniture and a coal fireplace over 500 years old. Cafe Vlissinghe was established in 1515. We also ate at other Flemish restaurants that are less touristy and more local faves, and even tucked-in some amazing burgers made by a lady who could give many Hollywood actors a run for their money. A, perhaps, loved the burger more for that.

While A munched on his huge chocolate collection, negotiated work back home, or made calls to E, I quietly ventured into the imposing Sint-Jakobskerk, famous for its rich funerary art and art donated by the rich neighbourhood around it. There were no parishioners that evening, the church bells had just struck and I made my way inside to see the most beautiful stained-glass paintings and artefacts as a lone gentleman kept me company and handed me literature in English. He seemed intrigued about my nationality and smiled when I announced my Indian origin. He asked me, in broken English, ‘Modi?’. I nodded.

STRASBOURG, FRANCE

We returned to Aachen, and to E’s arms reassuringly for A, post Bruges. In a few days we would be in Strasbourg, France.

Picturesque Strasbourg is the capital of the Grand Est region, formerly known as Alsace, in northeastern France. Located near the German border, it has architectural influences of both the French and the Germans, ditto for the culinary and cultural influences as well. It is also the formal seat of the European parliament. An imposing gothic Cathedrale Notre Dame with its tall spire makes it loom large. I prefer the older parts of Strasbourg, referred to as Petite France, with cobblestone roads, half-timbered houses, canals, many landmarks and historical buildings that have witnessed the region being passed from Germany to France repeatedly through the ages.

Strasbourg has lots of historical sights: The Palais Rohan houses, Museum of Decorative Arts, the Archaeological Museum and the Museum of Fine Arts. Barrage Vauban, a 17th century dam, has an excellent view of the city and Petite France. The easier way to check on both the sides of this city is to sit on a road-train, which departs from either side of the impressive Notre Dame cathedral, and first get an overview of the places and spots to stop and stare at later, including watering holes, eateries, shopping districts, Instagrammable spots, et al. Do visit the Ponts Couverts (covered bridges) early morning during summers. These are three medieval bridges and towers that were used to defend the city in medieval days.

One can go on boat rides too. With the sun shining bright, it was as if a carnival had broken everywhere. Animated crowds sat everywhere, at cafes, restaurants, even on the banks of the canals, eating, drinking, picturing themselves lost to the day that day. It was like life was on a roll anywhere one looked. Place Kleber and Place Gutenberg are great places to watch the world go by.

Must mention La Hache here. It is a restaurant which dates back to 1257 and is believed to be the oldest establishment in the city. The name means ‘an axe’ as it is housed in the residence of executioners, eerie as it may sound. They have balanced the look and feel of the place by incorporating elegance with its ‘rough’ look. We also tried the traditional cuisine, namely baeckeoffe at La Baeckeoffe d’Alsace in Petite France. It offers a charming setting with typical Alsatian decor and feel. We did love the Flammekueche (tarte flambe), a speciality of the region of Alsace and embodying German influence.

Did I mention that the Germans took over Lindt, the chocolatiers of the world? It was returning to our apartment at Aachen that we passed that huge familiar signboard of Lindt, which E then informed us was a big factory. A refused to go back and rest and hauled us all there. Once inside, we shopped, yes for chocolates. They say kids get lost at a candy store, here E and me kept running behind A. We had to buy fresh cabin baggage (I was avoiding it due to my bad back) to fit in just Lindt and Belgian chocolates. And we paid for excess baggage, thanks to chocolates!

KORNELIMUNSTER, GERMANY

Our final sendoff had to be special. So, E drove us to this quaint hidden medieval town. We drove through a vista of greens, a ranch and eventually swerved into a cobbled road to come and park near an imposing church. Dotted everywhere were houses with an emblem posted outside or badges to inform us of their unique heritage value. They had the same look and feel of a time gone by, retained for people to familiarise themselves with both the architecture, advanced way of life and evolving lifestyles.

It was on our way to the church that my phone began to beep with notifications. An Air India flight had crashed just after take off. Visuals kept popping across social platforms. E and A sat quiet in the car and my eyes welled up looking at the sight. It suddenly seemed we were away from a tragedy befallen on our own. I went into the church and, in that empty space, began to pray fervently. We were flying the same airline back home next day. But the setting was a balm. The church was built in 817 AD. So was the town. Natural spring water bowls lay strewn here and there.

As E and A sat down under a shaded tree visibly shaken, I took a stroll around the town, which seemed to be like a block or less. They had a bank and other amenities. Here, the facades had to be maintained as they were but the interiors could be changed. It was interesting to see these houses with their curtains drawn to a side, giving passerbys a view of the interiors, well appointed elegant bespoke stately rooms. They almost looked like show-apartments than lived-in ones. That is how beautiful each was.

We met a Harley bike gang here who were riding in from the Netherlands. Cafes make-up for main business it seemed and we settled for one named Parisian, just imagine, in Germany. The owner said that he and his mother previously owned a cafe in Paris and had moved to take over this one and renamed it.

Well, we were hungry and ravaged the pizza that came and then spoiled ourselves with an ice cream dessert. ‘Lobh’, is a very quintessentially Bengali word for greed that A threw at me generously probably because I am a diabetic and the picture he took did not look good with my sugar levels. But, hey, we were on holiday!

Pictures courtesy the writer

!function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)
{if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function(){n.callMethod?
n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments)};
if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version=’2.0′;
n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0;
t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];
s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)}(window, document,’script’,
‘https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js’);
fbq(‘init’, ‘877586283401283’);
fbq(‘track’, ‘PageView’);