Our next trip was to the capital of the Auvergne region in central France, Clermont-Ferrand. I thought this would be an interesting place to go for the architecture, the cuisine, and the fact that there is a small climbable volcano just outside the city.
On the train, Charlie marveled at the engineering that went into his self-brewing coffee cup. The coffee still tasted terrible.
The train's interior design reminded me of the Starship Enterprise... but I find Star Trek in just about everything.
When we got to the city, we took a mile-long walk in the bitter cold to our hotel on the edge of town. The hotel, Ace Hotel CHU Estaing was fairly new, comfortable and just a short walk from a tram that would take us to the city center where all the action supposedly was. After a short rest, we set out.
When we got off the tram at Place de Jaude in the center of the old part of the city, we were disappointed to find that this historically significant spot had become nothing more than a large, modern shopping plaza. We weren't really interested in shopping at department stores, so we wandered up the nearby hill toward the city's main cathedral, Notre-Dame-de-l'Assomption de Clermont-Ferrand.
The cathedral was impressive at night, towering above everything else at the top of a hill, constructed of black volcanic stone blocks and lit an eerie blue.
Whoa, dude.
We meandered around the area a bit, scoping out the many restaurants that were just beginning to open. We were reluctant to eat in this area because we knew it was a touristy area and that you generally get mediocre quality and high prices in places like that. Instead, we took the tram back to the neighborhood where our hotel was and, much to our dismay, found that everything closed at 7:00 p.m., including the grocery store. Our only option was a kebab shop so we grabbed our middle-eastern version of a McDonald's meal and headed back to the hotel.
The next morning we started our day by going to the tourist office and inquiring as to whether it was possible to take some form of public transportation to the volcano. The answer was "no, not during the winter." We weren't too terribly put out by this because, had it been possible, that was the only day we could have done it and thanks to the weather, there was no view. It was so foggy that we couldn't even see the volcano from the town that morning, but I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed because I love volcanoes. And according to our tour book, going to Clermont-Ferrand without hiking up the volcano was "like visiting Athens without seeing the Acropolis." But our tour book says a lot of stupid shit like that.
Instead we spent the day exploring the gothic quarter around the church and seeing whatever there was to be seen in this town. We noticed that there wasn't actually a whole lot going on if you weren't interested in gothic architecture or shopping. As is the case with life in many small towns, including the one from which I hail, there is not much for youngsters to do except get high. Indeed, just about every person under 30 that we saw was wasted out of their minds on some substance or another.
But, on we go...
Charlie ventures into a tiny, crooked pathway
The dark stone walls are typical of the various villes noires (black cities) in this region, with many buildings being constructed of the smokey volcanic rock found in the area.
We went into the cathedral, of course, and were actually in awe. We have seen more gothic cathedrals than I care to count and, although they are generally beautiful, none are particularly more impressive than any others. This one was different. There was something about the combination of its numerous columns or perhaps its sheer height and the overall looming blackness of the place that caused our jaws to drop when we walked in. We agreed that it was the most impressive cathedral we had seen in France.
My point-and-shoot camera does it no justice, but trust me, it's worth seeing.
After the cathedral, we wandered a bit more, impatiently waiting for restaurants to start opening for lunch so that we could get our hands on some of the delectable local fare.
In the meantime, we took a stroll through a little park on the edge of the gothic quarter that provided a nice lookout point over the north side of the city.
One side of the park had this large war memorial that, as Charlie astutely put it, sent mixed messages. It was partly a holocaust memorial, lamenting the French citizens that were deported during WWII. But it was also a remembrance for fallen French soldiers during France's own questionable colonial exercises in north Africa and southeast Asia.
But that's another story. Time for lunch!
We found an unassuming little brasserie next to the city's central market where we saw several locals already settling in for a meal. As intended, we ordered some local specialties.
Above: Truffade, a crusty, greasy mass of sliced potatoes, crispy bacon and fresh local cheese served with (below) a large green salad and two enormous slices of jambon de pays.
Cassolette de ris de veau (cream-braised veal sweetbreads) with scalloped potatoes and, true to French culinary tradition, overcooked vegetables.
Overwhelmed by the richness of the meal, we decided it was time for a walk and a smoke. We walked to the south side of the town to explore what one of the city's larger parks, Jardin Leqoc, had to offer. The park was not very large at all, but pretty, with a big spraying fountain and a very still reflective pond in the middle.
The flower on the left is perturbed while the guy on the right expresses schadenfreude.
The park was full of the usual suspects: ducks, pigeons, little sparrow-like things and a large white swan. I was impressed at how docile they all were, apparently used to being fed by park visitors.
Charlie and his winged homies
Can someone tell me what kind of duck this is? He's beautiful!
And of course:
Then it was time to head back to the city center, as the cathedral bell tower was just about to open to the public and, by golly, we intended to climb it! But first, Charlie needed to visit the little boys' room.
"En lavage" means "cleaning". As Charlie aptly demonstrates here, after someone exits an automated public loo, you must wait until the cleaning cycle completes before you can enter. Charlie learned this the hard way one day in Paris when he entered right after another occupant and got locked in for the cleaning cycle. He had to stand on the toilet to avoid the deluge while I stood outside, listening in horror to what must be the nastiest shower of his life. Fortunately, he escaped without getting too wet.
Back at the cathedral, we had to hunt down the guy with the keys to let us up into the tower. We waited for a long time while he was waylaid by a talkative tourist. Finally, we heard him hollar "J'arrive!" from across the echoey space and he jogged over to us, apologizing for the delay.
He asked us where we were from an we told him, to which he responded, "My Got!" in a thick French accent. We laughed, somewhat surprised that he had (sort of) taken the Lord's name in vain. He then proceeded to point to a stone carving on a nearby wall and say something about the Kennedy family in very broken English. We never did figure out what he was talking about. He directed us to the bell tower door and informed us of the price of admission. It only cost €3.00 to go up the tower and we only had a €10.00 bill. Since he had been so nice and the cathedral was so awesome, we told him to keep the change for the church.
He unlocked the old wooden door and said "See you soon!" shutting the door behind us. We huffed and puffed our way up what felt like a never-ending stairwell. Cathedral bell towers are particularly torturous to ascend because you're generally in an enclosed spiral staircase with no idea whether you are near the end or not. We also took the Lord's name in vain several times during the climb but figured our donation to the church had bought us that right.
We spent several minutes alone just looking at the town down below. Even from here you couldn't see the volcano, which was shrouded in thick fog.
After a few minutes we were joined on the roof by another couple, the male half of which was obviously trying to talk his girlfriend into getting freaky with him on the church bell tower. She was visibly embarrassed by this. We remained a few minutes longer than we would have otherwise, just to spoil his fun. Finally, we left them to their sin.
We took the tram across town back to our hotel to warm up and recoup before dinner. On our way there, we encountered something magical:
The Booktastic Bus is real!!!
That evening we abandoned the search for authentic local cuisine and instead went to a place with an interesting and innovative menu called Avenue.
The whole restaurant was tiny, maybe seating 20 people at most. We could see into the kitchen from the dining room and it looked about the same size as the kitchen in our apartment with only enough space for the chef and his sous-chef. Despite this, they managed to produce delicious, carefully prepared modern French cuisine.
Charlie's starter: Crispy pig's foot and tripe terrine with a green salad and crushed hazelnuts.
Cha's main: Braised beef cheek with morels and a side of mashed potatoes and winter vegetables.
My starter was a chèvre crème brûlée served with toast, but the picture I took of it was too blurry to do it justice.
My main: Roast cod with lemon zest, sichuan pepper and aioli. My fish was cooked absolutely perfectly so I asked to waitress to inform the chef of this fact.
Culinarily satisfied, we called it a night. The next morning we checked out of the hotel and returned to the brasserie where we had eaten lunch the day before to have coffee and bread with butter and jam. Afterward, we crossed the plaza and entered into the indoor central marketplace in search of yummy local goods to carry back to Paris. We are both fond of the cheese and sausage from this region.
Pick a potato. Any potato.
Fresh produce, all the colors of the rainbow.
Call me an adolescent boy, but I couldn't help but be amused by the fact that there were sausages called "Baby Jesus" and "Faggot" (in the "bundle of sticks" sense... or in this case, it was a bundle of slim sausages tied together with a ribbon).
We rustled up a few local sausages and cheeses and then got the hell out of there to avoid the temptation of spending our entire savings.
We had a while to kill before our train so we went to the Bargoin Museum of Archaeology right next to the park we had visited the day before. It didn't take us very long to go through it, especially considering that half of it was a special (but not particularly interesting) exhibition on clothing from around the world that was apparently designed with children in mind.
The only thing this nerd loves as much as geology is archaeology. Oh, and space. I love space too.
Bad day?
Playing with the clothing exhibit.
By now we had figured out that the restaurant-filled tourist area that we had tried to avoid our first night was actually the only place to get a good meal in town. Even the locals ate around there. So we walked back, this time determined to find more regional delights.
On the way, a clothing store:
We found a place after Charlie's own heart: Le Boeuf Café, specializing in, you guessed it: Beef! In fact, if you wanted anything else, you were pretty much S.O.L. The café was located just around the corner from the cathedral and down a neat little dead end alley.
To begin with, we shared a plate of marrow served in crudely hacked bone.
Then I had a delicious steak, served with roquefort bleu cheese sauce, scalloped potatoes and a green salad.
Charlie had steak tartare with a raw egg yolk on the side (you're supposed to pour it on top of the meat).
The portions were enormous and we left feeling like we needed a nap. So, rather than taking public transport to the station to catch our train, we decided to walk. It was a clear day and during our jaunt I was finally able to catch a glimpse of the volcano for the first time since we had arrived.
The Puy de Dôme last erupted around 5760 B.C.
I'll leave you with an image of a concert poster we saw just before we reached the train station.
"Wake up, mada faka"
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