A day in three parts

Part One: We awoke in the Worst Western, Reims, suffering from Sad Hotel Syndrome. The grey, poky room, broken fittings and crazy 80’s carpet had seeped into our bones. We just wanted to be gone.

After a skimpy breakfast of pink rice bubbles pretending to be muesli, enlivened by an American in French Army uniform boasting loudly about his bar fight last night, we packed up ASAP, left our bags at the desk and cleared off. Farewell to the Paremoremo D Block décor! Farewell to the Narnia Lift, so like a wardrobe that I expected to push my way out through fir trees at the back and see Tumnus the Faun trotting past in the snow.

Part Two: We had three-and-a-half hours to spare before we had to be at the station for our two trains, first from Reims to Paris Gare de L’Est, next Gare du Nord to Lille Flandres. Rather than linger in the Room of Gloom, we set off to find the Basilica of St Remi. This unique building, a UNESCO World Heritage site, has a story going back to St Remi, the bishop who baptised Clovis, the King of the Franks. This was the beginning of Christianity in the Merovingian lands. Remi died in 533 and was buried on this site. Pilgrims flocked to his shrine. In 750 Benedictine monks from St Denis were appointed to welcome the pilgrims, staying for a thousand years. (Benedictines are apparently now back at the Basilica, but the photo on show in the Basilica is of Cistercian monks (Neil’s old order). The successive church buildings were progressively enlarged, and in 1049 St Remi was consecrated by Pope Leo IX as a basilica (church of particular historic interest). Two further extensions in the 12th century enlarged. it to its current size: 126m long (only 1.5m shorter than Notre Dame de Paris) width of nave with side-aisles 28m, height of the nave, 25m.

it was an hour’s walk across town to the church. We had hoped to stop for a coffee on the way, but the shops were shut as it was the Day after Pentecost Sunday. We were feeling quite fagged by the time we got there, but once we walked in the door, this stupendous building blew us away. Row upon row of intersecting pillars, some so old they had bits of Roman inscriptions on the stone. Layer upon layer upon layer of windows. Soaring roof-ribbing joining so high above, you had to crick your neck to see them. Chapel after chapel, burial upon burial, age after age.

This wonderful building, so deserving of respect and preservation, was shelled to destruction by the German Army between 1914 and 1918. Happily, painstaking reconstruction over forty years restored it so that on 1 October 1958, St Remi’s feast day, it was reconsecrated as a place of worship. So rich in history. It’s well worth looking up on YouTube.

Sadly, the Museum, which displays treasures going back to Charlemagne’s grandson Lothair, was closed (it being a Monday). But I’m so glad we made the effort to see this astonishing basilica. So many stories, so many voices. One of the things we learned from the stains glass windows was that at least one bishop of St Remi had a moko!

Coming out, we were delighted to see a café open down the street. The proprietor assured us solemnly he couldn’t sell us any food until 1200, but two double espressos revived our spirits. The streets of French cities must be littered with the bleached bones of tourists looking for morning tea or an early lunch! However, we had noted the position of a likely-looking bakery on the way, and called in on our return. We bought for lunch fresh chicken wraps, a pain au raisin and an almond croissant loaded with chocolate!. (Desiree’s conditioning by the St Mary’s nuns meant we weren’t able to Eat on the Street:!) We also had a quick look at Galeries Lafayette, the David Jones/ Milne & Choyce of French department stores. It’s worth going there just for a chance to use the Belle Époque lift!

We recovered our bags, shook the dust of the hotel from our feet, and headed round the corner to the Gare. We sat in a little park and enjoyed our yummy lunch to prepare us for our two train trips: from Reims to Paris Est, and from Paris Nord to Lille Flandres. After the first, we had an eight-minute walk from Paris Gare de L’Est to Paris Gare du Nord. The French authorities don’t waste much paint on road signs; we were puzzling which street to take after Google left us in no-man’s land, when a delightful elderly French gentleman, with white hair and beard, introduced himself, welcomed us to France and showed us where to go. Once again I was impressed by the helpfulness and courtesy of the many French people who have helped us on our way.

Part Three: Our train to Lille was supposed to load at 1450 for departure at 1515. We stood squashed in a line - and waited and waited. Figures came and went at the end of the train. We waited some more. Finally, we were able to drag our bags to the upper level of the train and settle ourselves for our hour long trip to Lille. Lille, when we arrived, was very modern and bustling. Our hotel was only minutes from the Gare (great!) pleasant and modern (greater!), with a helpful commissaire who even chased up a kettle for us so we could have a cup of tea. We were close to a Westfield Mall, also very new, so revived our spirits with a wander about and (I hate to say this, Liz) early dinner at Subway. Then back to the hotel- early start tomorrow for Le Quesnoy, and the New Zealand Liberation Museum.Læs mere