Christmas in Lille

By Elizabeth Johnstone

I had only ever seen Lille out of the Eurostar window en route to Brussels but, in December 2017, we had a great overnight break at this unfairly neglected destination. My train into London runs into Kings Cross Station from where it is a few steps across the road to St Pancras International. The Eurostar train left on time at 10.58 and, less than an hour and a half later, we arrived at our destination.

Lille is the fourth largest urban conglomeration in France, with an ultra- modern Metro system. It operates the “Crit-air” scheme where your car requires a “clean air” sticker. Its charm for the visitor, however, lies in the historic old town. From the Lille Europe Station and the Euralille commercial centre opposite, it is only about 10 minutes walk to “Vieux Lille”. We stayed at the Ibis Styles Lille Grand Place, booking direct with Eurostar for rail tickets and then with Booking.com for accommodation (not forgetting to go in through Topcashback.com!)

The hotel was clean, cosy and convenient for the sights. Our plan was to meet up with a Belgian Mensan friend for whom Lille in France was nearer than Brussels in Belgium. We had a pleasant stroll round, as I took photos of shop displays and building façades. One negative was the number of homeless people and beggars, often with suspiciously drowsy small children lying with them. After a cup of tea, we parted ways and my husband and I braved the Christmas Market. It is enormous, with 80-odd stalls. I’d read mixed reviews online, but I found it cheerful and seasonal.

 We regrouped at the hotel then set out for pre-prandial refreshment and a bite to eat. The plan was to head for the rue de Gand which is effectively the restaurant street. Unfortunately, everyone else in Lille had the same idea. We fought our way into a lively local bar Au Gand'Brinus where the barman gave me advice about speciality brews. Note: do not talk about Belgian beers in Flanders. We then over-optimistically set off down the street for dinner, only to be told “désolé” time and again.

Eventually, our noses pressed against the windowpanes of the Estaminet de Gand, we saw two girls preparing to leave and we pounced. It was a typically small and crowded restaurant featuring local cuisine. My husband had the hearty beef casserole carbonnades flamandes and I had a “welsh” which is a variation of a Welsh rarebit made with industrial quantities of pungent local cheese. A chicory-flavoured crème brûlée rounded off my sweet-toothed husband’s meal. Perfectly pleasant, but next time I would definitely book a restaurant of my choice.

As we walked back to the hotel, it started to rain.  By the next morning,  rain had turned to snow, and it was not too pleasant walking to the station. We intended to spend time in the Euralille shopping centre before crossing the plaza to the Gare Lille Europe.

The jovial security guard at Carrefour was used to travellers like us walking round with half-empty suitcases and “locked” ours shut with a plastic tag which the checkout lady had to open with scissors. French hypermarkets are not normally open on Sundays, except for the month of December, something to bear in mind if your city break involves food shopping. And it must, if you go to France!

The Eurostar was 10 minutes late, but the real problems arose back in London where numerous trains in and out of Kings Cross were cancelled or delayed because of the heavy snow. We got off lightly compared to air travellers and motorists. As a matter of principle, I made a small “delay repay” claim. I hope all readers do so, too! 

Lille was a great destination. I look forward to my Flemish beer on a summer evening in the old town before heading off to my (reserved!) table in the rue de Gand.

First published in VISA 137 (February 2018)

Paris in the Wet

by Rachel Kruft Welton

In a fit of madness, we booked a trip to Paris. Whilst the destination in itself is not so unusual, we felt it to be a challenge as we were taking our 15 month old twins on the Eurostar. My husband Nick and I booked it, then looked at each other and said ‘Aargh! What have we done?’ In fact, the travelling itself was not a problem. 

The Eurostar was notable only for the impressively overpriced food they served. I queued 20 minutes for the tiniest box of wafer-thin ‘fries’ you can imagine. It worked out that each ‘fry’ cost 1 Franc (about 10p) and a box wouldn’t satisfy one, let alone two hungry toddlers!

My French friend Steffie collected us from the station and gave us the first of several unguided tours of every side street in the vicinity of the hotel. Often, we would see the hotel at the wrong end of a one-way street, only to pass it again some minutes later from a different direction, this time viewed down a pedestrian only access. We did get there eventually and the Hotel Campanile near the Bastille was friendly and quiet. They provided two cots at no extra cost and the room was en suite - an essential with mobile and inquisitive young children. Breakfast consisted of an extensive buffet, with two handy high chairs available.

We buggied for miles. The first stop was a delightful square called the Place des Vosges where the kids had a go on the slide and I enjoyed the fountains and fantastic architecture that is the trademark of Paris. I love the white stone buildings and the beautiful mix of balconies and shutters.

Next stop was the Notre Dame, which we passed without entering. The square was busy and the steps (with a double buggy) were daunting. Les jumeaux were the centre of attention wherever we went. They even had their photo taken by a Japanese tourist! Shortly after this, the twins fell asleep, so we raced off to the Louvre whilst things were quiet!

The Louvre is a large museum housing a wide collection of art of all types. Of course we had to see the famous Mona Lisa, but we didn’t stop. I was much more taken with the statues, and particularly smitten by the statue of the Three Graces, which has long been a favourite. The children (once again awake) also enjoyed the statues. My daughter liked a life-size one of a whippet, and my son liked squeezing into the small space between a plinth and the wall. They had a great time.

The onset of heavy rain meant that our walk up the Champs Elysees was more like a trudge up the Damp Elysees. Whilst Paris may be romantic in the spring, a sou’wester is recommended. We ended up at L’Arc de Triomphe, which is always impressive, though hardly accessible under the circumstances. The Tour Eiffel beckoned wetly in the distance with its head in the clouds, but we were all tired and decided to attempt the return to the Bastille by Metro.

The Parisian Metro, unlike the London Underground, has no barriers for letting large items like bicycles or buggies through. This means, in effect, that you have to give your active toddler to a complete stranger whilst you try to lift your folded buggy over the barrier. Believe me, it is neither easy nor fun and I suppose the locals just don’t use it when they have anything larger than a handbag to carry.

We decided on a small pizzeria for dinner. My son slept through the entire proceedings whilst my daughter flirted with the waiters and charmed them all. One thing that can be said for the French is that they love children. Taking toddlers into a restaurant in England usually leads to disapproving looks as the kids explore and experiment. Here they were the stars.

The following day we took a taxi to the Sacre Coeur, which was of course spectacular for both its white stone frescoes and also for the view over Paris. We did go inside to the cool quiet interior, with the majestic vaulted ceiling, and I was glad we had made the effort. Outside the church is an artist’s market where painters offer their creations for sale and sketchers try to persuade you to have your picture drawn. Only a handful of the pictures stood out and these were retailing from 650F, which, though reasonable, was outside our budget.

We took a long and enjoyable walk back to the Bastille, past the ornate buildings of the Gare de l’Est and the Gare du Nord, and around the Place de la Republique. Nick said they rebuilt the roads so wide after the Revolution because they wanted to make them too large to erect barricades. In a city designed before the car, where no-one has a garage, this has allowed Paris to remain relatively unspoilt by the exponential rise in car ownership. There is plenty of room for parking bays on both sides of the street. Parking and driving are still manic, though, and we did see one smash whilst we were there.

Outside our hotel, there was a Sunday morning street market which seemed to sell everything from fruit to clothes to saucepans. We took a wander down it and then on to the Bastille, where the Parisian marathon was underway. It was an inspiring sight, not just because people twice my age could run for four hours when I can’t run for the bus, but also for the devastation left behind in the wake of the marathon’s passing. The floor was littered with empty water bottles, gnawed oranges and half banana skins.

We were first class on the way back, which is to be recommended as there is much more room and free food. The waiter rashly gave my daughter plenty of chocolate cake and she ended up dancing on the tables. I think the over excitement took its toll on the kids and the train journey back home from London is in my top five worst ever. Still, we survived and I would do it again. We are better prepared for what we will need to organize when we go off to Canada later in the year.


First published in VISA issue 41(summer 2001)

Eurostar to Bruges (Belgium)

By Elizabeth Johnstone

Brugse Zot, ‘Bruges Fool’, is a delicious beer brewed in the picture perfect Flemish town of the same name. It could also describe those like myself who fall under the town’s spell.
Bruges by Eurostar is a popular destination from the south of England. I booked hotel and train as a Cresta Holidays package through my local Co-op Travel. Ever since the ash cloud, I have booked ATOL-protected packages where possible, although I grant that Eurostar is unlikely to be disrupted by volcanic rumblings in Iceland.

My husband and I live just north of London and our train line goes into Kings Cross Station. It is literally a few steps across the road (avoiding the pupils en route to Hogwarts on Platform 9¾) to St Pancras Station, from where Eurostar leaves. I was impressed by my first trip on Eurostar. The whole operation was slick, and check-in and security were faster than at the airport. We went out in Standard Class, which was not over-spacious but slightly better than the plane. We were upgraded for our return to Standard Premier Class which was definitely roomier and included a light meal with wine. I love being abroad, but I am not a good traveller. The advantage of Eurostar is that the worst bit – the Tunnel – only represents about 20-25 minutes underground. You can easily do that travelling about in London (but then I don’t like that either!)

We left the Eurostar at Brussels South Station. Unfortunately, our connection to Bruges was running late and a twenty minute wait turned into nearly an hour. Once aboard, however, the journey was a pleasant ramble through a flat countryside enlivened by the odd windmill and dozens, if not hundreds, of solar energy installations. The serried ranks of bikes in the bike park at Gent St Pieters Station were absolutely spectacular.

On arrival at Bruges (which, incidentally, is its only name in the UK– no-one has heard of Brugge), we decided to walk into the historic centre. As we trudged past sunbathers in shirtsleeves snoozing in the park, we rather wished we’d taken the bus. We checked into the Hotel Aragon but our room wasn’t ready, so we headed back out into the city. The hotel is well located, a couple of blocks from the Markt, or main square. It was unspectacular but clean and cosy. An unhurried breakfast is always a treat on these trips, and the Hotel Aragon proved no exception.

We bought a three-day Museum Card for 15 euros each and more than got our money’s worth. Unfortunately the Belfort, the 83 metre high tower in the main square, was closed for renovation, but we visited almost everything else on the card. For me, the highlights were the Groeninge Museum with room after room of Flemish masters, the Hospitaal Museum with the fabulous Memling in St-Jan and the Onthaalkerk Onze-Lieve-Vrouw with one of the very few Michaelangelos outside Italy. But, in my opinion, the charm of the place is not so much in outstanding individual pieces. It is a harmonious ensemble of many beautiful buildings whose perspectives are constantly changing as you stumble across a bridge, a reflection or a gilded detail. 
        
Eating and drinking were fabulous. We treated ourselves to excellent meals at 'tHuidevettershuis in a lovely location overlooking the canal and at De Koetse not too far from the Markt. I adored the gracious living of the Pâtisserie Prestige – a perfect venue for “ladies who lunch”. Prices were not cheap, however we are used to London prices. It was a no-brainer that the nearer you were to the Markt, the pricier everything would be.

As for famous Belgian food and drink – we made a thorough investigation of the following items, purely for scientific purposes, you understand...

• Chocolate: Belgian chocolate is our gold standard. Can one town support so many fabulous, expensive, artisan chocolate shops? Evidently yes. Some of the goods are obviously bought in, but in many shops you can see the chocolate and other sweets being made at the back. We could hardly walk past these shops without exclaiming to each other at how exquisitely everything was displayed. And of course with Easter coming up, there were lots of bunnies, eggs etc.

• Mussels: I love these and had them twice in different restaurants. The easiest implement with which to extract them is an empty but still hinged pair of shells. Don't forget crusty bread to mop up the broth.

• Belgian chips – under no circumstances to be called French fries - are simply perfection, made from fine local potatoes and cooked twice for extra crispness. The mayonnaise with which they are served is more of a mustardy dip. Delicious and surprisingly chic in their dainty paper cones balancing in a wire frame.

As for beer… 600-700+ varieties? Choose your beer from a menu as carefully as you would choose wine, and look out for the strength. Some get up into the 6, 7, 8, 9% strengths, the strongest being those brewed by the monks. I wonder why? My fellow countrymen are famous for coming over and deliberately or naively knocking back these mighty brews as though they were weak English beer with predictable results. Bruges fools, indeed.
Waffles: plain and crisp are best, I think. I had a waffle with bottled cherries which was delicious, but it made the waffle soggy.

Bread and pâtisserie: I shall get into trouble for saying this, but these are up to French standards both in variety and quality. Yes, yes, I too am a native of a small, proud nation perched on the shoulder of its bigger neighbour…

A highlight of the trip was the monthly get-together of West Flanders Mensa in De Vlissinghe which claims to be the oldest pub in town, dating back to 1515. The format was a Games Evening, and our hosts courteously spoke perfect English to us and to each other. Super fun and friendly – Mensa at its best. Just as enjoyable was a delightful long walk out to the windmills and drinks with a Mensan friend on the Sunday afternoon, talking about everything and nothing. I was intrigued about the languages we would find in a bilingual country. The default language of hospitality in a tourist honeypot is English and Bruges was no exception. As a languages teacher, I am always keen to speak in a language other than English, but I was concerned that French might not go down too well in Flanders. I need not have had any such concern. I have a neutral look and could be any northern European nationality. If I was not actually consulting a map, I was addressed variously in Dutch, French and English and any responses in French were met with Gallic courtesy.

My husband and I did all the touristy things except for a horse and carriage trip. I know from experience I am horrendously allergic to whatever a horse swishes around with its tail. The canal boat trip was a better bet and gave a different perspective on the architecture we had admired while strolling about.

Our return trip was straightforward. No problems getting to Brussels, although we had some time to kill once we got there. The Eurostar pulled out of the station just before 3pm local time and I was walking through my front door 3 hours and 15 minutes later. The new concourse at King’s Cross, open that day for the first time, is quite something.

I am a definite convert to Eurostar now and I will retain fond memories of Mensan hospitality in the treasure house which is Bruges. Or even Brugge!

First published in VISA 103 (Jun 2012)