Lille - Day 2

The next day, of course, it rained. Nonetheless, intrepid explorers that we are, we decided to go out and See The Sights. Well, see Roubaix, anyway. Roubaix is part of the Lille Metropolitan area, and whilst a town in its own right, acts a bit like a suburb of Lille itself. (I can't imagine living there and never visiting the big city, though I'm sure there are those that do.) It's on a metro line from Lille, so off we went.

It's not the prettiest town in the world. Not without its charms, to be sure - though the cafe we stopped in wasn't really one of them. Possibly the only place left in France where people are allowed to smoke inside (fine enforcement clearly isn't a priority in Roubaix), and run by a very nice woman who nonetheless looked like a meth addict. Still, they served coffee, which was all we needed. They even served it twice, when I knocked the first lot all over the table, the floor, and myself. Who knew there was so much liquid in an expresso?

The Mairie is a very imposing building, looming above the square where the metro stops

We walked, in the rain, around Roubaix. Roubaix is famous for its art galleries and textile heritage, and it is the site of not one, but two outlet villages for buying designer clothes cheaply. It also has a museum in the site of an old workers' swimming pool - water has been left in - which has a glorious stained glass window.

You can see it from the outside here - but sadly, it was closed when we went, so no photos from the inside. (People finding this post through Google, you may wish to note that La Piscine museum in Roubaix is only open in the afternoon.) We'll go back one day...

The sticky labels left by visitors outside formed a pretty collage:

This was spray painted onto a wall near the museum, and appears to be the last photo I took that day. This is presumably because the rain got much worse as the day went on.

We did call in at the outlet village to see if there was anything we wanted to buy - aside from a new pair of jeans that I needed, there wasn't. Disappointing. The rain was getting heavier at this point, so we decided to call it a day and get the tram back to Lille for lunch.

By the time we arrived in Lille, the rain was horrendous. We walked around getting soaked while we found somewhere to eat - we ended up at the lovely Arriere Pays, which serve a huge variety of tartines (open-faced sandwiches, I think they might be called elsewhere), and salted-butter caramel crepes. Which were awesome. Paul, in a fit of insanity, decided to try the local liqueur, genievre. There is a reason that this particular drink hasn't achieved national or international success; it's fucking horrendous. Tastes like anti-freeze, on a good day. I'm unconvinced that you could mix it with anything that would disguise the horror that is this drink. Don't be fooled by its harmless appearance, it is Evil Incarnate.

Having managed to survive the horror, we went back to the hotel to drink champagne and wait for the rain to stop.

The rain, being Lille, steadfastly refused to stop. So we bravely set out, regardless. We sheltered in The Northern Ferret (Le Furet du Nord, I think it sounds better in English) and bought a couple of DVDs and a notebook. We also saw some fine examples of Northern cookbooks (30 ways to cook with carambars, 30 recipes featuring biscuits...)

Following this, we traipsed through the rain til we found somewhere for dinner. It was an estaminet, a traditional Northern French/Belgian cafe, basically, which definitely played up the traditional aspect. It served all sorts of iconic Northern French food, mostly featuring marouilles, beer, or a combination of the two. I had Welsh, which is cheese on toast with beer, cheese and cream. And chips, obviously. (I managed about a quarter of it before feeling like I might die.) Paul had carbonnade, which is meat in a beer stew sauce thing (which was much nicer than my cheesey heart-attack on a plate).

It is, however, in desserts that the North really came into its own. Despite the rain, we both decided on icecreams - a unique combination of speculoos/chicoree/condensed milk flavours for me, and a similarly unusual licorice/carambar/glacier mint (Betisse de Cambrai) mix for Paul (his came with sweeties on top. Still slightly jealous.) There was a pleasing variety of speculoos flavoured options - not only speculoos icecream (which haagen daas also sell, by the way - awesome in a box), but speculoos mousse, and speculoos creme brulee (which I very, very nearly went for). There is also a speculoos flavoured liqueur, which in my mind is sort of like speculoos flavoured baileys - how amazing would that be? You can apparently buy it online. (Speculoos, for those foreign people who haven't had the pleasure, is originally a biscuit - kind of a mix between ginger and cinnamon flavoured. It is brilliant. Often served with coffees here. I think it's Belgian.)

After this, we rolled back to the hotel, through the rain that hadn't let up at all. My clothes still hadn't dried by the time we left Lille the next day.

Day 3 continues in another post...

Floods! Drama!

People, I have abandoned you. I almost feel sorry about it. I still have - and will write this weekend, promise - a post on Lille to put up. And something about a group of mad people who came to visit us last week, where I went up the Eiffel Tower.

[Post interrupted while I attempt to fix minor domestic emergency. See, this is why you don't get posts from me. Life keeps getting in the way.]

Anyway, for now, you will have to be content with the tale of the storm that has flooded Paris. Practically a monsoon. (Though just possibly shorter - monsoons tend to last longer than half an hour, I understand. Otherwise EXACTLY THE SAME, though.)

There I was, leaving work and heading to the pub. (The Frog says hi, jelly people, if you're reading this. Or would if it could talk, being a building and all.) The sky had been getting steadily greyer all afternoon. By the time I left the Metro, it was almost black. I made it to the door before the rain started. Having found my husband and got drinks, we watched as the sky got darker and darker. Soon after, the rain started. Sheets of it. Torrents. And every time we looked up, it got worse. Passers-by gave up with umbrellas. People under cafe awnings moved inside because the splash-back as the rain hit the pavement was soaking them. Smokers huddled in doorways, looking morose. (That last is fairly normal, actually, thinking about it. Smokers in doorways always look morose, no matter the weather. But I digress...) As it was still going, we had another drink. It continued to pour. And then, as if by magic, the sun came out. One second, pissing it down. Next second, bright sunshine and blue sky and aside from the flooded streets, overrun gutters and soaking pavements, as if nothing had happened.

Until we got to St Lazare. Which is not as waterproof as the architects no doubt hoped it would be.

Luckily, we didn't need to cross that. There were a lot of people standing around amusing me as they tried to work out the driest way to cross the new lake that corridor had turned into - and that was one of the corridors you were allowed to go down. Several had been closed to the public because they were too flooded.

There, aren't you glad you bothered to read this? I've written 400 words on the rain. That was totally worth your time. (Hey, I *know* I never said this was going to be an interesting blog!) Lille might be better, though that, too, features a lot of rain. It's been a wet summer...

ETA: those of you reading this in an RSS reader may have seen that the original title mentioned recorders. This is because French supermarkets apparently sell recorders (you know, the children's instruments - are they called the same in American?) - we were buying food on the way home and noticed them with the back to school supplies. It struck me as odd, and I meant to write about it. But forgot til I pressed post. So then I deleted mention of it from the title. But realised that RSS readers probably show the original title. So I thought I should explain...

Things to do in Paris: Le Manoir de Paris

Le Manoir de Paris is a new attraction that opened to the public on 6 May. I was lucky enough to get to attend the launch event, and so I feel I ought to spread the word about it (even though, you know, my blog with a readership of 2 in a good week was probably not what they were envisaging their briefing being used for - I went as a guest, in case you're wondering.)

That said, Google brings up odd results sometimes, so maybe people looking for something to do on a rainy day in Paris might find this. I struggled somewhat to work out who Le Manoir's target audience is - and from conversation over drinks at the end, it seems I wasn't alone - but I would recommend it to those with older children, those who visit Paris often and who are looking for something a bit different, Goths and people who like dark rooms where bleeding people jump out at you.

From the promotional blurb, Le Manoir de Paris is "a true living museum. It invites visitors to experience Parisian scenes and legends in winding their way through its labyrinth". It "transposes the concept of the haunted house that we find in the United States and adapts it to French culture and sensibility." The concept was created by Adil Houti, a Belgian by birth, who has lived in the US and now lives in France. I've never seen a US haunted house, but for Brits, I suspect this is similar to the London Dungeon (which is, I have to say, one of those things I've never been to either, but at least have seen - and the guys in costumes at London Bridge look similar to these guys, if less gory - and less interactive.)

The "living museum" brings to life 13 legends from Parisian history - some of which are world famous, like Quasimodo, others are less well-known to foreigners. (Well, I didn't know them all, anyway...) It has to be said that this doesn't detract particularly from the experience, though I suppose that recognising the stories might give you a slight edge on dealing with the creepiness as you go through the various rooms and meet the various tragic - and terrifying - characters. To understand the stories the characters tell you, you will need good French. Some of the costumes inhibit clear speaking, and although my French is quite good, there were several stories I missed entirely, mostly because I spent the whole thing in a mild state of panic, waiting for the next thing to leap out at me and scream.

(Text continues after the photos - these photos are mine, from before the show began; do excuse the poor quality - proper photos follow at the end...)

Thinking about it once it was over, I enjoyed it. The expressions on the faces of those who followed us through the maze suggested that I wasn't the only one who found the whole thing terrifying, but that's the point, after all. (And it added amusement, as we watched them come out into a room of people drinking champagne and eating canapes, and try to work out if this was another act that was going to suddenly attack them.) The costuming and lighting was excellent (though I would suggest that perhaps they could have given us a bit more light without ruining the performances - sometimes it was really, really hard to see where you're going...) and the actors were superb. I hope they enjoy their work - they looked like they were doing, but I suppose we were in the nature of the opening night; it might be interesting to go back after they've done their act a few thousand times and seen how much they still enjoy it!

Those with weak hearts, pregnant women and those with epilepsy are advised not to go to this exhibition - there is a lot of use of strobe lighting, which wasn't advertised clearly beforehand, so if you're sensitive to it, give this one a miss. Also, if you're claustrophobic, you will also probably want to give this one a miss - there's one "room" that made me struggle a bit, and I *like* small dark spaces.

The press blurb says that the Manoir is open to children aged 10 and over – I think that's maybe a little young. Some ten year olds will probably be all over it, but there was a little girl who went in ahead of us who came out 5 minutes later in tears.

Factual information you'll need if you're thinking of visiting:

Address: Le Manoir de Paris
18 rue de Paradis
75010 Paris

Metro: Poissonnière, Bonne Nouvelle, Gare de l’Est, Gare du Nord, Strasbourg Saint Denis, Château d’Eau
Bus: Lines 30, 31, 32, 38, 39, 47, 48

Opening hours: Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays and French public holidays, from 15:00 to 20:00.

Cost: 20 Euros (Concessions: 18 Euros)

www.lemanoirdeparis.com
www.facebook.com/lemanoirdeparis

Official photos (copyright Le Manoir de Paris):