Six European countries in seven days! Savouring the best sights and sounds of the continent, I went on what is famously -- or infamously, if you will -- called a 'pajama tour' of Europe. There were 51 of us, from as many as nine countries. In Calais we were told by an intrepid tour director that at the end of it a few of us strangers might actually return home making friends for life -- and none, hopefully, enemies. "We call it the pajama tour because it is so fast you just about get time to tie your pajamas," quipped tour director Petra Weisseisen. Rather impishly she added that at the end of it, by the time one reaches Paris, the tourists would actually need another holiday to recuperate. A Slovenian, she did not forget to point out while welcoming us that although many might not even know about the existence of her country, it did offer some of the most scenic sights that Europe had, but sadly was not there on our tour itinerary. And for the next few days the lady led us like a mother hen, hastening continuously to keep time. Even the seasoned global travellers amongst us were apprehensive about a most daunting aspect. Namely, dealing with six currencies in just a few days. It was not just about exchanging money, but also getting rid of it before one reached the borders of another nation. Dutch Guider, German Mark, Swiss Francs, Italian Lira... all forming a part of the mind-boggling list of notes and coins one had to constantly exchange. But Petra seemed to have a solution for it, although it worked for some but failed for others. "Get rid of the change at the last stop before the border -- buy souvenir, chocolates, anything," she would remind us every time we were about to leave a country. The toughest for us seven Indians in the group was spending the thousand-time multiplied Italian lira. A bottle of mineral water for 2000 lira, a slice of pizza for 3000 lira, so it went. Despite being aware of the exchange rate I had an almost sinking feeling every time I gave the thousand denomination notes for the three days I was in Michelangelo's country. I comforted myself with the thought that the next time I visit Europe the currency travails will not be there with the Euro being introduced in the year 2002. The tour was even tougher for those among us who were die-hard vegetarians and teetotallers. With a Coke costing more than a bottle of beer in Germany, I wished while clicking people merrymaking in one of the most famous `beer gartens' of Munich that I was a more adventurous kind. Dinner at our night stopover in Anker hotel in the beautiful township of Andernach in Rhineland turned out to be yet another strange experience, with the waitress insisting that the fish she served was vegetarian. "Sea food is vegetarian," she kept repeating. She got angry when we asked her to get something else. And eight of us had to go to sleep with only bread and butter for dinner that night. The next afternoon was even more disastrous. I realised during the lunch in Frankfurt that there were beef balls in my tomato soup -- but only after swallowing! Vegetarian troubles notwithstanding, Germany took us on an amazing walk back into history. A stopover in the mediaeval town of Rothenburg sent us back some 150 years. One day every year in Rotherburg, all the citizens turn up on the streets dressed in centuries old costumes, to take out a carnival that draws visitors from across the country. It was a lucky Sunday indeed when we stopped to look at the quaint old buildings in the town, and came across hordes of people dressed in period costumes. Some dragging barrels of beer, others on horses, singing, dancing, waving to the crowds who had lined up the streets. And the heritage town sprung up with living visuals of the past, which will remained framed in memory for the thousands who had gathered there that afternoon. Holland, Germany, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, France, the `pajama tour' covered all, leaving rich memories to last a lifetime. But the most beautiful country made us seven Indians also sad. Stopped at the Swiss border for passport checking, an official entered the bus and took with him only our passports for stamps on the visa. For neither of the others, the Malaysians, Australians, Canadians or New Zealanders, needed a visa to enter Swiss territory. It was not without embarrassment that we collected our passports -- and experienced for the first time in our life a disadvantage that made us feel 'different'. Sarika Chakraborty is yet to recover from Europe. Tell us what you think of this diary
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