Vacation Saga- Metz

Wednesday, February 18th rolled ‘round to find Rebecca and I on our way to Metz! The half hour train ride terminated at a beautiful old train station that was both vast and lovely. While Metz isn’t much further North than Nancy, I was freezing as we got ourselves a map and headed out to explore the city. We decided to head in the direction of the cathedral, which we had heard was gigantic. Because the cathedral is located on the opposite side of the city, we saw a good deal, and got a feel for things as we wandered north. Metz is smaller than Nancy, but it still felt pretty urban. I suppose most European cities are like that, though. Because of their age, most cities are filled to capacity with apartment buildings and shops, not to mention the smattering of old churches, museums, open squares and various war monuments.


On our way to the cathedral, we stopped at the Eglise St. Martin, which was small and rather somber. We were the only ones there so it was perfectly quite. It gave off this sort of pervasive stillness that I found very calming. I’m not religious by any means, but I can understand how churches and cathedrals like these evoked such strong spirituality- they are stunning in their ingenuity and beauty. The church was built in the Romanesque style, so it wasn’t gaudy at all- the stone was dark grey and the few stained glass windows emitted very little light. It was rather austere, but beautiful nonetheless. We left St. Martin in search of the Cathedral and slowly meandered through Metz’s narrow streets. We stumbled upon the Eglise Notre-Dame, which was closed, but had a lovely, warm, yellow façade. I can’t really place the style, but I thought it was great.

We were idly walking across a square when, suddenly, the looming cathedral came into view. The cathedral certainly lived up to the rumors we had heard- it was huge! I suppose if you were to compare it to Notre Dame de Paris, la Cathédrale Sainte-Etienne de Metz probably isn’t that huge, but with my uneducated perspective, I found it very impressive. The interior was stunning, and it was only when standing in the nave that I really felt the overwhelming height of the ceilings. This cathedral is renowned for it’s stained glass windows, which date from various centuries across the structure’s history. The earliest were completed at the time of the cathedral’s construction while others are as recent as the 1950’s. Apparently St.-Etienne has more square meters of stained glass than any other church in France, which didn’t surprise me as I walked around the gently illuminated cathedral. The windows were really amazing, and I was particularly mesmerized by the more recent ones (done by Marc Chagall in the 1950s). I had seen Chagall’s paintings, which are vibrantly colored and emotionally evocative in their own right, but I had never seen the work he did in other media. The luminosity makes the gentle figures come to life- it’s breath-taking. I don’t think my feeble descriptions can do them justice, so you’ll just have to see for yourself. There was also a gorgeous set of windows done by Jacques Villon that flooded the chapel with the most brilliant warm light. Ah- it was amazing.

After a while, we left the cathedral and headed north to see what was exciting on the city’s îles. Metz is split on the west side by the river Moselle, and so there are several little islands that are accessible by fun little bridges. We walked across a bridge and found ourselves on this little island that housed the “Le Temple Neuf.” I really don’t know much about the structure, but I thought it was adorable! Architecturally speaking, it wasn’t particularly striking, but the doors and gates were purple, which I thought was exciting. Also, the temple is located on the furthest end of the little island, so the garden comes to a point with a great view. It was closed too, so we just sort of wandered around and I admired the swans in the river.

We wandered further north still, accessing another little island that housed a really beautiful (and closed) church called St. Vincent. Once we’d seen our fill of the façade we walked a little ways to the remains of the Temple Evangélique de la Garnison. It was once a protestant church, first erected and used during the German annexation. Sadly, the only thing that remains is the tower- the rest was destroyed by a fire during the Second World War. Before seeking out some sustenance, we saw the Pont-des-Morts. It’s name – Bridge of the Dead- apparently derives from the Middle Ages when criminals condemned to death were thrown into the river to drown. The government financed the construction of this bridge from the sale of the deceased’s best article of clothing. (Weird, huh?)

We got some lunch at a Kebab place (which are really prevalent in France!) and then decided to look for the synagogue. Rebecca is interested in studying Judaism in Lorraine for Project Village, hence our interest in synagogues. It wasn’t too far, but when we arrived, we were disappointed to find that it too was closed (and barricaded, even). There were temporary fences around the entrance, and it looked totally vacant. Having visited the Lunéville, Nancy and Metz synagogues only to find them locked, poor Rebecca has started to wonder if Lorraine even has a Jewish population anymore. Hopefully the mystery will be solved soon enough.


We continued on, pausing at the Eglise St. Segolène before heading over to the Musée de la Cour d’Or. We didn’t know much about the museum, but we had nothing else to do, and so we figured why not educate ourselves a bit. The cashier had warned us that the museum spanned 3 km and 5 stories, and before entering he advised us to ask a guard should we become lost. We shrugged off the advice and entered the belly of the beast, unsuspecting of what was to come…

Well, it really isn’t that dramatic- we just got lost… horribly…for over an hour. The exhibitions progressed logically enough - Neolithic funneling into the Bronze Age or what have you. There were even signs pointing in the direction of the “sense de la visite.” Soon enough, though, there were two signs—two arrows in two different directions. Turns out we chose the wrong one. Somehow, we got off track after pre-Christian funerary tombs, and ended up in courtyard full of middle age religious sculpture. We decided to go back the way we came, and ended up going through the ceramic wares, scurrying past early housing and church construction, only to end up in the religious sculpture court again! This place was a frickin labyrinth! We had passed through centuries and centuries, only to end up in the Bronze Age again- it was like being lost in time. Even though we knew we had to go upstairs eventually, all the passages kept leading downward, and after a while I thought we’d never find our way out. I could just see it-- years later someone would find us, but it would be too late. Our bones would be just have to be put on display with the other 5th century skeletons we’d passed four times that day… Luckily, that was not the case. It was rather comical, and after a while we found our way upstairs and into the seventeenth century, and then into the art portion of the museum. Their collection wasn’t too vast, but I was impressed by the caliber of the paintings. I thought it was all pretty beautiful, but then again, you’re talking to an art history major, so I’m not the most objective source.

By the time we had resurfaced, it was late afternoon, and we decided to wander back in the direction of the Gare. We were looking for some historically significant building on the way to the Gare, when I noticed a store called “La Petite Russe” – or Little Russia. And with that, our search for the random building was forgotten. Rebecca spent last semester studying in Vladivostok in eastern Russia, so of course we went in. She was really excited, and it was neat to see all the interesting foods and various products. There were lots of sweets, but also strange pickled things and odd canned meats. Behind the counter were various alcohols, many of which bore images of Stalin or Communist symbols. I thought it was pretty interesting. Being practically fluent, Miss Rebecca spoke to the woman in Russian, and her mad skills scored us some free sweets! They were just little candies, but they were pretty delicious. Relishing in the success of having found a little piece of Russia in France, and went back to the train station where we drank cheap instant coffee and munched on some Russian spice cake until our train arrived.

Metz was a beautiful little city, and I think I’ll go back someday- even if only for the beautiful stained glass windows.

Vacation Saga- Lunéville

Since I started this blog a little late, I’m all out of synch, so I think I’ll tell you about my February holidays, which actually took place a few weeks ago. (Retrospective note: Due to my extensive wordiness [sorry!] I’ll be posting this in installments so as to spare you a novel’s worth of silly stories.)

About a week and a half after starting classes at the département fle (fle = Français langue étrangère = French as a foreign language), the university had a week of vacation. We hadn’t even been in France a whole month at this point, so I wasn’t really even beginning to think about extensive travel. I had been considering going to Paris for a few days, but tentative plans to stay with my host sister fell through, and I wasn’t really looking forward to spending a mini-fortune on travel/room/food/museums, etc. So, when the week before vacation was upon us, my friend Rebecca and I decided to travel around Lorraine together. That way, we reasoned, we’d be able to see several different places, familiarize ourselves with the region, and also save a bit of money. We chose a few places near Nancy that we had heard about, but not having done any prior research, we didn’t really know what to expect. We chose Lunéville because we knew that Duc Stanislas’ château was there, and Metz because it’s the next biggest city in Lorraine after Nancy. As far as Thionville goes… well, I’m not 100% sure why we decided it should be one of our vacation destinations. I honestly think we just looked at the map and chose a moderate-sized city, figuring that we’d find something to do.

Well, Monday the 16th rolled ‘round, and we headed off to Lunéville. Rebecca’s host mom was dumbfounded that we had planned to say in such a tiny town for more than a few hours. She was convinced we’d be back in time for lunch (even though our return tickets were for 8pm) and warned her that there was absolutely nothing to do. Rebecca and I were undeterred, however, and vowed to amuse ourselves, regardless of how sleepy Lunéville might be.

We arrived by 9:30 and headed out in search of “Stan’s house,” which is what the year-long LC kids playfully dub Duc Stanislas’ château. Sometimes referred to as the “Petite Versailles” or the “Versailles of the East,” the château was supposedly stunning in its hay day, and is said to have beautiful gardens. Rebecca and I were aware that the castle has suffered a pretty serious fire back in 2002 or 2003, but we figured that seven years later, it would be mostly restored. As it turns out, we were mistaken, and we had also picked a rather unfortunate day to travel because it was snowing pretty heavily by the time we got to the château. Even though there appeared to be a museum of some kind, it was closed, and the château was totally inaccessible. We were determined to make the most of it, however, so we slowly strolled around the gardens, studying the statues and various structures and surveying the château’s ongoing construction. Rebecca told me the story of the castle’s downfall, which had apparently been caused by a faulty Santa Claus decoration (how sadly undignified!), and we chatted as we trudged through the snow.



After an hour of admiring Stan’s house, we decided to see what else Lunéville had to offer. We ventured forth in search of nothing in particular, and stumbled upon a creepy little carnival that featured a Moulin Rouge themed attraction (not the real one, mind you, but the American movie), some bumper cars, and various carni-games. Nothing was open of course, so we moved on, heading into what seemed like a residential area. Within a few minutes, we turned a corner and happened upon a giant cemetery, which we decided to investigate a bit. Now, I’ll be honest with you- I sort of enjoy cemeteries and I was happy to look around. That might sound a little morbid, but the tombs are always interesting, and I am always amazed by the fact that such a small space can contain so much history. I suppose cemeteries don’t offer a tangible history so much as they do a shadow--the memory of a history, if you will. I like thinking about the lives of the people buried there, and I wonder of what sort of monumental events occurred in their time. They surely bore witness to all sorts of notable moments– technological achievements, revolutions, assassinations, stories of human triumph. But more than that, they were witness to life and all the strange, tragic and beautiful things that happen within it. They led lives that were filled with simple and brief, yet precious moments. Things like births and baptisms, first kisses and broken hearts, extravagant soirées and tiny family gatherings. A cemetery is sort of an ode to humanity-the whole idea of having them is so that all those people -who lived extraordinary lives within their own rights- will not be forgotten. The very purpose of a cemetery is to provide a place in which all the things they witnessed, all the tremendous emotions they felt, all the factors that built their lives could be remembered. When I visit a cemetery, I feel like I’m respecting those memories and the utter significance of human life… but I must apologize for my rather large digression. Anyway…Rebecca and I walked and silently paid homage to those lives lived - those lives lost.

After a while, when the chill factor reached a new low, we decided to venture out again, this time in search of coffee. We found a small café where we enjoyed some espresso and discussed further activities for the day. Rebecca had been sweet enough to bring lunch for the both of us, so the only thing I needed was a utensil. We had seen a Monoprix earlier, and decided to go there to find a cheap fork or something. (For those of you who may not be familiar with Monoprix, it’s basically the French equivalent of a Fred Meyer’s. They’ve got clothes and office supplies and food. In short, Monoprix = sweetness). I ended up buying a very flat spoon, reasoning that it was the most versatile utensil. On the way out, we stopped at their little patisserie to see if we might find something to supplement our lunch. Turns out, the Lunéville Monoprix has some kick-ass bread promotions! We ended up buying four pains chocolats and five croissants for only 3,20 euro! (As a point of reference, one pain chocolat at a chain patisserie called La Brioche D’orée costs one euro, so it was a pretty good deal.) We ate some of our delicious bread with the tuna bowls Rebecca had brought for lunch, and then decided to look for the synagogue.

Lunéville really is painfully petite, so we weren’t concerned about getting lost, and wandered off in the vague direction of the synagogue. As it turns out, we didn’t find the synagogue right away, but we did find this crazy little story called Norma. Norma is sort of like a mini- French Sam’s Club. Basically, there was lots of stuff and it was all pretty inexpensive. Rebecca and I co-purchased this giant package of mini Kleenex for only 1,85 euro. 1,85 people! That is amazing! You might not understand why I’m so enthusiastic about those tissues, but I did the math on it, and it was totally amazing. There were 30 packages of tissue, so we each got 15 for 0,93ish euro, which is only 0,06 euro per package of tissue! Isn’t that awesome? You still might wonder why I’m so excited about saving such a small amount of money. Well, let me tell you- shit’s expensive in France! Not only is the dollar weaker than the euro, but things are just generally more expensive. For example, a package of 10 burnable CDs is 20 euros (25 American dollars). Isn’t that slightly outrageous? But what it really comes down to is that I’m trying to save up enough money to travel for six weeks after the program ends, so every bit counts. Judge me all you’d like, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get excited about cheap tissues. Hell, it’s cold here and my nose needs them! Okay, end tirade.

Eventually we left Norma and recommenced our wandering, this time we found a beautifully rustic church as well as the synagogue! Rebecca is interested in studying Judaism in Lorraine for Projet Village, so we figured we could visit the synagogue and get a bit of information. Once again, our plans were foiled! The synagogue was safely secured behind a locked gate, and all we could do was read the signage. As it turns out, the Lunéville Synagogue was the first one to be constructed in France since the middle ages, and its construction required special permission from King Louis XVI (or XIV?). A little dismayed, we continued on our way.

We stopped at a few more churches, but the only one that was open was the Basilica Sainte-Jacques, which happens to be the biggest one in town. While I was trying to take a picture of this massive structure, an adorable elderly woman yelled from across the way, “C’est difficile à porter, eh?” I didn’t realize that she was talking to me at first, but then I realized I was the only one around. I started to agree, explaining that it was difficult to photograph because it was so tall. She the proceeded to tell me how tall it actually was, and then started walking me over to the entrance. She kept talking about the church and its history as she led Rebecca and I up the steps. She went on about the nave and the organ (which is apparently the only enclosed pipe organ in France), and went rummaging through the pamphlet kiosk for some maps. She handed us each a map that explained the artistic program of the church and provided historical information. This lovely little woman was so cute and friendly, and she seemed to know about everything! She told us where we could find some literature about the town, and also pointed us in the direction of the Faïencerie (An atelier that produces a very specific type of ceramic ware. Faïences, as they are called, seem to be specific to Lorraine). She was very helpful, and I started to wonder if perhaps we were the only tourists to visit Lunéville all winter.

We looked around the church a little while longer, then headed out again in search of the Faïencerie. With our luck, it was closed, so instead we sought out some more churches. When they turned out to be closed too, we decided to head back to the train station for a little repose. We got some instant coffee and ate some more bread, while debating what to do for the next two hours. In the end, we decided to go to this little bar we had passed earlier called La Licorne which means “The Unicorn” in English. Despite its questionable name, La Licorne was a very masculine horse-racing bar and everybody was placing bets at this official-looking kiosk. We wandered in under the suspicious gaze of the old fogies who frequent La Licorne and found a table in a corner. We ended up drinking Stella Artois because it was the only beer that I could think of off the top of my head, and we spent an hour and a half talking about all sorts of things. I actually really enjoyed the bar. Even though I felt horribly out of place, it was amusing, and the bartender was really friendly. After a while we went back to the train station. Despite a minor setback (which entailed reading the platform number incorrectly and missing our train) we made it back to Nancy only 15 minutes later than originally planned.


Though my clothes were soaked through entirely and I was tired of walking around all day, I had a really great time. I enjoyed talking with Rebecca and wandering around with no real agenda. It was just aimless enough to be fun, and a little silly, but I’m very glad we went.