Captivating Nantes

Situated along the picturesque west coast, on the mighty river Loire, Nantes is a captivating, vibrant city! Having visited the metropolis twice now, I love the energy of it.

Nantes appears to have got the balance of restoring the old, with the new blending in majestically, and quite strikingly. The biggest city of the Brittany region has attempted to build an identity as a creative capital of dream and fantasy. This is evident in the architecture and quirky artwork, including Banksy-style street art splattered around the region.

I think the ‘New York City viewing laws’ apply when walking around, remember to look up. One of my favourite finds was around the theme-park area, a building that at eye level was a dull concrete block jazzed up with a bit of colourful art, looking up there was an actual bus with wheels ‘parking off’ a few levels up, followed by a funky, intricate, metal casing reaching to the sky.

An absolute must is a ride on the Nantes elephant! Yes, an elephant! In France! One of the main attractions is the creation of the Les Machines de L’ile, this 40ft wooden structure goes walkabout for half an hour around the Jardin des Voyages precinct, embarking from its metal cathedral with 50 passengers on board. Unsuspecting tourists get doused with squirts from its trunk, with gleeful patrons cheering from above. They have a variety of other mechanised treasures that young and old can play on, but for me, a true African – the elephant stole my heart.

Being an unashamed nautical junky, mixed in with a love for history, and architecture I delight in stumbling upon historical ships, tall ships specifically! Not far from the funfair, theme-park side of the world, moored on the Loire is the magnificent historic three mast tall ship, the Belem. An old beauty that now is a training boat but for decades was a true work horse.

Nantes is a photographer’s dream, with objects around every corner begging to be captured. The old architecture of the cathedral, or the Castle of the Dukes of Brittany or the Graslin District, Square and Opera, to a variety of modern statues or artwork like the massive spikey Resolution des Forces or the rings set along the promenade, or even just boats moored on the river, there is something beautiful to snap.

According to the Nantes tourism website, there are 28 artworks dotted around 22 sites along the 120km Loire estuary between Nantes and Saint-Nazaire.

Nantes is not a car friendly city, with parking establishments being costly and street parking being almost impossible to find. But everything and more is just an amble, a cycle or a tramride away. Public transport is efficient and affordable. On both visits, I had a hire car, having driven from Bourges via Saint Michel to Nantes on my first visit or being mobile to head out to the suburb of Reze for the recent Olympic Qualifications for the Les Blues Basketball Women successful campaign to get to Rio.

Having access to a vehicle, I indulged and opted to take a few day trips from Nantes. The most memorable was out to Saint-Nazaire and the beaches of Saint Brevin Les Pins, I happened upon the incredible, perhaps creepy, artwork of the Serpent D’Ocean. Unveiled in 2012, the aluminium skeleton that is 120m long brings Chinese mythology to a French shore.  The sea serpent looks like it has just beached itself, and with the different tides and sea-state, the mood around the serpent constantly changes. Quite intriguing!

So, if you planning a trip to the famed wine region of Bordeaux, I would strongly recommend you make a detour to Nantes and surrounds for a couple of days, you won’t regret it!

Beautiful Bourges

The second part to this whirlwind trip was in the heart of the Berry Province, a city called Bourges. The city dates back to about 50BC, with the main architectural attraction, the gothic cathedral of Saint Etienne, built in the twelfth century. Ranked as a World Heritage Site, it is considered as the earliest example of the high gothic style of the thirteenth century. Simply put, if I were to wed, this certainly would be the venue for the ceremony. It is utterly magnificent, the stained glass windows are heavenly and the intricate carved detail on the exterior façade is mesmerizingly beautiful.  The inside is just as glorious, the light coming through the windows, the massive airy space, you can climb up to the tower and get an angel’s eye view of the city or go down into the crypt.

As is tradition over the last decade, I had the privilege of catching one of the final pool games of the Euroleague basketball season for Tango Bourges in their recently unveiled shiny new stadium lovingly called The Prado. Led by the ‘tricolour’s’ captain, Celine Dumerc who was the game hero that evening firing 15 points, the home team playing to a capacity crowd were victorious against Polish visitors, Wisla Karkow with a 63-45 win.

A highlight for me in Bourges was reconnecting with a fabulously keen couple at the pristine stadium. My first time ever watching a live basketball game, an elderly man was the usher at the old Bourges Basketball Arena and quickly surmised that I didn’t speak a word of French and in a grand-fatherly way guided me to my seat. Our next meeting was in Montpellier, the French League game we were both attending was held on France’s Independence Day and locals were celebrating at the game with pancakes and red wine. This dear old man sought me out and proudly presented me with an offering of both.

In my basketball travels, I have met France’s number one supporters in Istanbul, Sopron, Ankara, Paris, and just last year in Timisoara, Romania. I read an article stating that this retired couple spend most of their winters travelling in their campervan to all of the games in Europe where Tango Bourges or France are playing.

After the game, standing at the top of their raked section, I waited for them to clamber up from their courtside seats. Halfway up, he glanced up, stopped and alerted his wife and promptly announced to me, and majority of the nearby crowd – Afrique du Sud waving cheerfully. We greeted each other like long lost friends in French, but conversation beyond a jovial greeting was limited as their English is non-existent, as is my French.  But the mutual love of the game for the identical teams has created a strong connection between the three of us and each time I am at a game, I look forward to meeting them.

No visit would be complete without a wander through the Old Town; here you can amble along cobbled-stoned lanes lined with half-timbered medieval houses that date back to the Middle Ages. It is believed that there are still 440 of these medieval masterpieces still standing to this day. Another must do is indulging in a draft on tap at the ancient Jacques Couer Pub a couple of blocks from the cathedral and palace. Situated in an old half-timber house, the inside of the pub takes you on a complete time warp to centuries before.  Stop in for something decadent at CakT, a petit slice of heaven where you can refuel on a delicious cup of tea and a mouth-watering array of desserts.

Of course visits to the Jacques Couer Palace, the Jardins near the Cathedral and the train station, or if you are in these parts in May, there is a hearty music festival that is well worth a stop. Bourges is magical, but I wouldn’t recommend a stay longer than two days.

Departing the centre of France, I made my way north west to the coastal area of Saint Michel! 

Paris - in the wake of Je Suis Paris

Surrounded by the backdrop of a typical European winter, I escaped the sweltering heat here in Durban to ‘chill out’ in France for a bit.

It was fascinating being in Europe, specifically France shortly after our rand collapse and of course, the terror attacks in Paris. My extravagant itinerary of exploring the northern parts of France and tumbling into Belgium was halved due to our dire exchange rate. Instead, I reacquainted myself with Paris and Bourges and then tumbleweeded my way, via the Chateaux Chambord, up to the breath-taking parts of Le Mont Saint Michel and then down to Nantes before returning back to the capital.

My first quest of this adventure: I have attempted to be one of the lucky ones to purchase tickets for the annual, massive French extravaganza, entitled Les Enfoirés. Tickets for this concert sell out faster than a Mumford and Sons concert in Durban and in the last seven years my attempts have been consistent, that of 100% unsuccessful! Les Enfoirés usually takes place over six nights, with majority of the indoor venues able to seat up to 5,000 fans – you do the maths. The whole of France vie for these tickets, and travel from all corners to be a part of it to catch the likes of Zaz, Zazie or Calogero.

This musical type of vaudeville travels around the country, each year a different city plays host and this year, the venue was the massive, forever-transforming arena in Bercy, Paris. The AccorHotels Arena that looks like it is this grassy hill in the midst of a concrete jungle; below ground is a hub of space that shapeshifts for all different occasions. A couple of years ago I was able catch Bourges Basketball compete in the Coupe de France finals at this setting, then a huge basketball stadium, now morphed into a huge concert hall holding thousands of fortunate fans.

As in previous years, my hunt for a ticket remained fruitless so for my first evening I resorted to plan B, picking up a kebab from my favourite take-away located outside of Gare-Du Nord, and after an uncomplicated metro ride I feasted at my picnic spot, sitting dwarfed by the magnificent gothic cathedral, the Notre Dame.

In the wake of Je Suis Charlie and Je Suis Paris, all of the ‘tourist attractions’ have evidently beefed up their presence of law enforcement. A mixture of excitable tourists attempting to capture the moment, pausing in an array of poses was combined with heavily-armed, slow-wandering, observant soldiers weaving through the statuette visitors. On the perimeters, both police and transit police would keep a distant, watchful, suspecting eye on the crowds.

This trip, I opted to minimise my use of public transport and walk wherever possible. Having no actual commitments or plans, besides the outline of accommodation, a FIBA Euroleague basketball ticket and two SNCF inter-city train tickets, I was free to do as I pleased. Armed with only a metro map and a vague idea of where the main attractions were in Paris, I strolled everywhere.  From the Eifel Tower to the Grand Palace, the Louvre to the Opera House, a mosey along the Seine River and down Avenue des Champs-Elysees heading towards the Arc de Triomphe or huffing and puffing up the hill to the Sacré-Cœur Cathedral with a gorgeous panoramic view of Paris. Mooching along small side streets I discovered some fabulous street art, some wonderful galleries, some quirky book stores and even a few decent street side cafes.

If you were to ask me what my soundtrack to Paris would be, I would sadly confide police sirens. Convoys of police vehicles charged through the city streets constantly, flashing blue lights and blaring sirens breaking up the usual bustling city sounds.  A sad reality of the current state of France. 

Ankara - the anchor of Turkey

Surfing the Turkish Tourism website, they proudly inform you that Turkey is home of The Blue Mosque, home of the colour Turquoise, home of the historic site Cappadocia, home of Troy, home of the Silk Road, home of the Golden Horn and home of ancient Gods. But there is no flash pitch about the capital, Ankara!

Ankara is clean, hilly and expansive. The word Ankara means anchor, a rather fitting name if ever there was for a capital.

I was based in Ankara for six days for the FIBA Women’s Basketball World Championship; I was there to support the French team. The venue in the capital was the Architectural award winning Ankara Arena which hosts a variety of events; the first event that was held in it after it was built in 2010 was the FIBA World Championship, so no stranger to major basketball events. 16 countries were there to compete for the cup with the games being played both in Istanbul and Ankara. Ankara was host to Brazil, Canada, Czech Republic, France, Japan, Mozambique, Spain, and host team Turkey.

I have been to and participated in big sporting events in South Africa including being at the World Cup Soccer at the iconic Moses Mabhida, but all of those matches pale into significance witnessing my first international basketball game, the entire experience was tingling. The last game on the opening day was a cracker between Olympic Silver Medallists’ France and the home team. Fans in their droves swarmed the stadium.

It took a while to collect my tickets and find the correct entrance. By the time I had presented my ticket to the FIBA usher, I had walked through a metal detector, had my bag searched by police then frisked by another police officer, before the final police check confirming the legitimacy of my ticket. Finally offering it to an usher who warmly welcomed me.

Having purchased my tickets online months prior, I by some stroke of luck had landed myself in the VIP area. The online booking system had an early bird ticket sale, so I paid for one ticket and got the remainder of the tournament basically for free. It also so happened that all the travelling French fans were seated in the VIP area.

The atmosphere in the venue was electric. Turkish flags floated aloft as the bearer’s sang a catchy tune that obviously was the anthem for the Turkish team. An enclosed space with well over 20,000 people all chanting, singing and cheering was passionate. Needless to say France went down but only by two points.

The remainder of the tournament, the Les Bleus sadly lacked the spark they had in London finishing second in their group, spiralling out in the quarters in Istanbul with a defeat against ace team USA. Then they lost to Canada in the class 5 – 8 games, after beating them in the group games. In the final game of France’s tournament they did manage to get some respect back with a win over Serbia and finishing in seventh.

The Les Bleus fans welcomed me into their small clan of 20 or so. Each game I had my face painted as an honorary frog. I was so proud of neighbours Mozambique, how they held their own on the court.

As far as sightseeing goes, Ankara is a massive, vibrant, cultural city but only really offers a handful of tourist attractions. Stumbling upon the Tourist Information Centre at the main train station across the way from the arena, the fabulously helpful tourism officer presented an impressive colour brochure, in English, of all the sights and stops in Ankara. All could be done on a walking tour over two days.

I found the public transport system difficult to figure out and eventually gave up. From the hotel where I was staying, the arena was a 20minute or 30TYL ride away and the yellow cabs were an attraction in itself. I am sure that the drivers were awarded for the most number of fares they could take on a day, not how scenic a route they took you on. Every ride felt like a race between A and B and on arrival your hasty exit was appreciated. It was a cheap and fast way to get around.

My first day out exploring, I got deposited at my landmark of the arena and wandered along the wide main road towards the Opera House, the Ethnography Museum and the State Art and Sculpture Museum. The Opera House was all closed up and seemed to be out of season. Across the road was a glee-filled Fun Fair snuggled up right against the main road threatening to toss out unsuspecting riders from the brightly coloured rides. Further up the road I came across the grand State Art and Sculpture Museum with the Ethnography Museum alongside. In the garden proudly sat a number of statues of famous Turk artists and sculptors as well as what looked like fragments of Roman ruins that were being slowly restored, were littered around the garden and had become a playground for the local feral cats.

With time on my side I opted to go off the beaten track, I turned off the main road and made my way deep into Ulus, the historic centre containing a number of museums, early republican buildings and the ancient Ankara Castle. Ulus is millennia old and I enjoyed getting lost taking small cobbled lanes, discovering roads and roads of shops spilling out onto the road. The gradients of the roads were quite a hike but the locals had no difficulty trekking up, usually lugging a hefty load.

On the only blue skied day I had, I ventured to the Antikabir. Translated to English it means a memorial tomb and is the mausoleum of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the leader of the Turkish War of Independence and the founder and first President of the Republic of Turkey. The site where the Antikabir was built is the most central in Ankara and can be seen from almost all areas in the city.

The ceremonial courtyard was alive with countless of wiggly worms with hundreds of pre-schoolers out on a day-excursion learning about the history of their country. With each group they had an assigned guide donning a dark tailored suit hugging their ripped frames, they more resembled bodyguards but each and every one of those big burly blokes appeared to be gentle giants. As I was about to depart, I got to see the pomp and ceremony of the Changing of the Guards.

A short yellow cab drive away, I visited the Kocatepe Mosque. It gets a mention in all research you do when you Google Ankara. I spent some quiet time walking around the exterior as the mosque was closed to visitors. It took close on 20 years to build and is the largest mosque in the capital. From there I jumped in another zippy cab and landed up at the Ankara Castle.

The outer citadel follows the ledges of the hill but inside the castle walls you find the real old Ankara with a number of locals quietly getting on with daily chores. Beyond the tourist track, the houses were all old, crumbling, unloved and dilapidated.  The views from up on top of the castle walls are exquisite overlooking all of Ankara. I parted with 12TYL for a freshly squeezed Pomegranate juice, the most expensive food and drink I had spent but the name of the café was the only reason I stopped. It was one word, And.

Would I recommend a visit, about as enthusiastically as I would encourage someone spending their hard earned holiday going to Johannesburg, but for a two day visit as you head to Cappadocia – perfect!