I
arrived in Metz expecting nothing special. A family friend had warned me that
it’s a “rather industrial” place, and it’s twinned with an equally
industrialised city near where I live, which is, I have to admit, not the most
exciting of destinations.
My first impressions seemed to confirm this view.
Stepping out of the train station, I was greeted by a sprawling construction
site of new apartment blocks and numerous roadworks. But, a little further to
my left, a fresh contrast: the new Musée Pompidou, an expanse of white peeping
out amidst the concrete jungle, and the first of many surprises to come.
The sun was shining and I was determined to see the
brighter side of things. My host, Jacqueline, had prepared a delicious goûter
of tarte aux pommes and jasmine tea, and we chattered away in the sunshine.
That evening, she drove me around the town, pointing out beautifully-lit
churches and monuments. Either the darkness had dimmed the ‘industrial’
elements I had been warned about, or there was far more to the city than I’d
anticipated.
Place de la cathédrale
Part of la cathédrale de Metz
La gare
Le Centre Pompidou-Metz
The following day we ate lunch at her mother’s apartment.
As we sipped Normandy cider – ‘le champagne de la région’ – and delved into a
wonderfully gooey quiche Lorraine, I barely noticed that it overlooked a number
of train lines. Far more interesting was the company: at 96 years old neither her
mother’s wicked sense of humour nor her appetite showed any sign of diminishing;
she wiped her plate with a chunk of crusty baguette and remarked that the local
patisserie has gone drastically downhill since the son has taken over from his
father: “il est paresseux, cet homme!”
As my stay drew on, it was the traditions and the people
that warmed me most of all to the city. That evening Jacqueline invited friends
over for a dinner of raclette and tarte aux mirabelles (the little plums are a
speciality of the region and are found in all sorts of dishes), followed by
singing traditional folk songs around the piano. The next day one of her friends
came back for lunch, and aired her caustic opinions on the candidates for the
upcoming election whilst Jacqueline gave me knowing winks from across the
table. That evening another friend invited me to her apartment for a feast of countless
tarts and petits gateaux, swearing that she really was no cook. And the
following day we came home to a huge gateau and selection of madeleines that
she had left on the doorstep, so that I could taste the true cuisine of the
region.
Gastronomic pleasures aside, Metz also offers its fair
share of things to see and do. The Centre Pompidou presents regularly changing
exhibitions, the Musée de la Cour d’Or offers 3.5km of local history to
discover, and the humble abode of Robert Schuman, ‘père de l’Europe’, attests to
the modesty of the local people. Venture into nearby villages and there are
endless streets to wander and churches to stumble upon, or stay in the centre and
marvel at the incredible height of the cathedral, if you’re not
dazzled by its colourful stained-glass windows.
Robert Schuman's house and garden
Churches and views in Lessy
Monuments in Metz
Metz might not be the most beautiful place in the world, and
neither does it entertain any pretensions of being so. Nevertheless, its people
are among the most friendly and down-to-earth that I’ve met on my travels, and
its little gems really do glitter. Travelling presents its fair share of
overwhelming experiences, but my memories of Metz will always bring me back to
the warmth with which I was welcomed there. I left knowing that there are many
more ruins to be discovered, gateaux to be tasted and stories to be told – but I’ll
leave that for someone else.
