My first solo day-trip! I hopped the train from Arras to Amiens and had a wonderful afternoon exploring the very walkable city. Some highlights: The Jules Verne House, the Notre Dame Cathedral d’Amiens, and the Venice-like waterway.

Taking the Train

Really, there’s nothing complicated about traveling by train, but just like anything new, the unknown makes it seem a bit daunting. I started looking up train routes and fares from our local Gare d’Arras, and was immediately excited by the options, both in price and proximity. I decided to book a return trip from Arras to Amiens for Saturday, leaving shortly after noon and returning around 8pm. Only €26 for the return trip (about $40 CAD), and 40 minutes each way. Not bad!

I booked through the oui.sncf website, and then downloaded their app, which:
– lets me save a record of trips
– sends notifications of schedule changes
– sends alerts for boarding time
– provides e-tickets to use so no printer is required.

On previous travels, I’ve taken the train from Cambridge to London, and the Chunnel from England to France, but those were longer rides and booked in advance. Short commuter trains on-the-fly are a new thing for me! I figured I should arrive at the station early to figure out where to go and what to do. It’s about a 15 minute walk from our house, and it was a beautiful sunny day.

I gather the essentials in my backpack and make a pit-stop into Monoprix for a few snacks. Once I arrive at the train station, I locate the departures screen, check for my route, and try to decipher corresponding information. There are a few numbers to identify, the most important being the correct train line. The station here isn’t massive like Paris, but it’s big enough that there are multiple lines heading in each direction. I find line 8 and follow the arrows in that direction. They take me down the stairs and under the station to come up on the other side where the majority of the platforms are. Easy peasy!

The train arrives exactly on schedule, and I find a comfy seat on the top level. It isn’t crowded at all and I ended up with a full row of seats all to myself. Win! A few minutes after the train starts moving, an employee walks through with a scanner and checks a few of our tickets. Makes me wonder, what happens when someone sneaks on with no ticket? The train is already moving . . . are they tossed out the back? I guess it’s a gamble, and I’m sure many people take it. (On the return trip my ticket is never checked.)

Arrival to Amiens

Just as I’m wondering if this is high speed train, there’s a squeal, a whoosh, and the blur of another train passing in the opposite direction. Yeah, we’re moving. I look out the window to see a beautiful vista of rolling green and yellow fields, old church steeples and large windmills rising from the landscape. I have a moment of, “oh right, I’m in France.” It’s easy to settle into the daily routines of work and life, forgetting just how far from home I am. I had the same experience during my four years in Nunavut. Then something jolts me back to reality and I vow not to take this wonderful experience for granted.

Arrival by train to Amiens is underwhelming, and I wonder if it’s the beautiful city I’m hoping for. We slow to a much lower speed and for a while ride through a series of old train lines, lots of industrial areas, and a few suburbs. As we approach the main train station, it seems as though we pass through a “history of Amiens train stations,” with multiple large abandoned buildings that each have a unique architecture and age to them. They must have been previous train stations, each one abandoned when it was time for an upgrade? And finally the iconic spire of the Notre Dame Cathedral peeks above the buildings and the real city shows itself. I’m excited!

Maison Jules Verne (Jules Verne House)

I exit the train station into an open area with busses waiting for passengers, and follow the foot traffic into a nice pedestrian street with benches down the middle and cute shops on either side. From here I decide to head toward the Jules Verne House, stopping to admire a few statues and monuments along the way. I find a great little green space within the maze of roads, and I learn that it’s a park that runs through one side of the city. It’s a great place to pause on a bench, and I see a few people doing the same thing. One lady looks like she is sketching the statue of Jules Verne in front of her. Another gentleman on a bike stops to say hello to me, the obvious tourist. He asks me where I’m from, and makes a few recommendations of what to visit. He was missing most of his teeth, had many gold chains around his neck, and a little dog trailing behind him. He was nothing but nice, and didn’t ask me anything weird or linger too long. I simultaneously kick myself for judging him, and remind myself to stay vigilant about my belongings and myself on this solo trip.

The Maison Jules Verne is nestled among other row houses, exactly where Jules Verne lived in it while he was writing his fantastic tales. His two most well-known are probably “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” and “Around The World In 80 Days.” It starts to sprinkle just as I arrive, and I’m happy to head inside to explore. One of the lovely folks at the welcome desk quickly switches to English for me, although I can tell it’s a script. Between the thick accent and strange cadence of phrase, I wonder if I might have understood better in French. It’s only €7.50 admission, and I get to take the English guide book with me throughout.

The house is on three stories with not one, but two, spiral staircases winding up and down. The main one is smack in the middle of the house, a central feature from any vantage point. On the ground floor, I walk through his Winter Garden — a sun porch with a wall of windows along the front and for the ceiling. There are beautiful varieties of plants and, if you know me, you know I could spend half the day just looking at plants. His formal dining room is set up exactly how it was when he lived there, and the rich mahogany wood throughout, along with the ornate and colorful ceilings, are a visual treat. In the salon, I am tempted to play the baby grand piano despite the obvious “do not touch” signs upon it. I settle for snapping a selfie instead, and wondered what I would’ve played. Probably an increasingly rousing rendition of “I’ll Fly Away” while baiting the other visitors to sing along.

Why can’t I go up there?

The second and third floors of the house are filled with original copies of Jules Verne works, hand-written letters, family photos, large movie posters, and areas staged to echo his inspiration for travel writing. There are so many well-curated historical items and references throughout that one could easily spend a full day here, leafing through his old manuscripts and admiring each element. Of course there are many items protected by display cabinets and “do not touch” advisories, but I am amazed at how many are fully accessible to the public.

At the end of the tour, I’m expecting to ascend the final staircase up to the top globe for a great vantage point to the city around, but I am disappointed to find that isn’t the case. Through the final door on the top floor, the second beautiful spiral staircase leads me back down to the ground floor; sort of a fire escape or, more likely, the stairwell that would’ve been used by “the help.” I go up and down it a few times like a detective, trying to figure out if I can access the tower, or if maybe I had missed it somewhere along the way, but sadly it is not open to the public. After about an hour of exploring the museum, I buy a couple of postcards in the tiny front gift shop and head out into the drizzle.  Ready to make my way to the next stop: The Notre Dame Cathedral d’Amiens.

How Not to Read a Map

Google Maps is my friend, and at times I would be literally lost without it. I am lucky that I have a fairly good sense of direction, but sometimes I get so frustrated at myself when I end up going the complete opposite and wrong way. I’ve realized that I always rush and, instead of taking time to orient myself with the map, I assume that right on the map is right for me, and left on the map is left for me. Rookie mistake. Although I can’t really call it a rookie mistake since it has happened MANY times.

Pro tips:

• Slow down and take a minute to find one obvious/tall/dominant structure that is near you on the map, locate it in real life, and compare whether it’s left or right to you vs. the map.

• If you’re rocking a full data plan and have an accurate location sensor, take a few steps and make sure your little blue dot moves in the direction you’re expecting it to. (Even without data, some phones will use location services to access basic map features.)
• DON’T just glance once at the screen, put your phone in your pocket, and walk for 15 minutes uphill, the whole time thinking thinking to yourself “it must be right around this corner” and “there aren’t many people around . . . I guess I picked a great time to visit!” Because when you finally turn around, from your new, higher vantage point, you’ll see the exact cathedral you’re trying to visit, looming way back in the distance, mocking your stupidity.

Downtown Amiens

Once I finally orient myself and point in the right direction, I think “at least I got a cool view of the church from here.” That’s right, sometimes a little positive self-talk goes a long way, especially when traveling alone without anyone else to prop you up. As I get closer to the Cathedral, it is obvious that this is the core of the downtown, with a bustling pedestrian shopping quarter and throngs of people, shops, and sights. I spot the iconic black and white striped storefront and know I at least have to darken the doors of SEPHORA! I just need one little thing, but any of you make-up loving folks out there know it’s a slippery slope of both time and money. Happy to report that I made it in and out in about 30 minutes, and smelled like at least 8 kinds of perfume when I exited.

There’s a carousel in the open square in front of the Hotel du Ville (City Hall), and a few kids were enjoying the spinning animals. I stroll past a wedding party posing on the front steps of the massive brick building, and into a small group of American tourists trying to figure out how to use the free public toilets. Such a lovely way to do your business away from home. Some places charge €0.50-1.00 per use in coin-operated porta-potties, so finding a free one is both welcome and foreboding.

A boisterous market is set up in the Belfry square, and I’m disappointed to find the Belfry is closed for the day.  It’s not be the tallest Belfry, and it’s a funny free-standing concrete rectangle. More like a lighthouse in the middle of the city, as opposed to the large ornate building of the Beffroi d’Arras. I was hoping to climb to the top for some great views, but getting to the top of anything on this trip seems to be just beyond my reach.

Some of the many amazing stained glass windows in the Notre Dame Cathedral of Amiens.

Cathedrale Notre Dame d’Amiens

Then I finally make my way to the magnificent Notre Dame Cathedral d’Amiens, and am amazed by its grandeur and detail, but also by how similar its features are to the Cathedrals we visited in Rouen. Many people are milling about the clean and inviting pedestrian square in front of the church, looking up, taking pictures, having picnics. I join in, trying to get a few vanity shots of myself using the tripod and self-timer but most of them are epic failures. As it starts to rain again, I join the masses that flock to the front doors of the church, ready to explore the interior.

Wow. I am greeted by the faint sounds of a chant or perhaps a small choir? The pattern of the tile floors contrasted with the evenly spaced floor-to-ceiling support pillars is a spectacle for the eye. As I make my way closer to the front, I hear more singing and see some people lined along the front, and think maybe it’s altar practice. And then I hear the organ. A rich, deep, melodic sound that you feel as much as you hear, with the way its sound echoes off each piller, swirls around the vaulted ceilings, and sweeps through the sanctuary. My heart is filling and my eyes begin to tear up with the grandiose feeling of the music playing. I have been longing to hear one of these massive pipe organs fill the sound of an old cathedral. Now that I’m almost to the front chapel, the most ornate and most private, it suddenly becomes obvious that there is a wedding in progress!

And The Organ Played On

It’s difficult to describe the scale of these churches. To use the word spacious is an understatement. It might seem like a wedding should be an obvious event, but with the cavernous echos, the people milling about, and the depth of the sanctuary, it’s more like a city block than a regular church. Priests were giving tours, and tourists were leaned up against the private chapel grates shamelessly videoing the ceremony. I can’t say I’m not tempted to do the same, but I feel too much like a voyeur into someone’s special day.

As I circle behind the sanctuary and get lost in the magnificent and vivid stained glass windows, I hear the unmistakable first chords of the Wedding March. Talk about goosebumps! The couple and their wedding guests file out of the chapel, through the aisle of the sanctuary, and make their way to the front of the cathedral. People clap and cheer and gawk. The bride’s billowy white dress is illuminated in glorious sunlight as they walk through the massive doors, the final notes of the melody ring out, and I am immaculately fulfilled.

A strip of restaurants along the canal in Amiens.

A Little Venice in Amiens

I grab a seat on a patio that faces the cathedral and enjoy a delicious, warm, gluten-free brownie topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream. (And a glass of wine, obvs.) From there I stroll through the park area behind the cathedral which are at the moment patrolled by two policemen one bikes. One of them does not seem to be far past his training-wheel days and almost runs into me. A moment later he almost runs into the gated entrance. It does not inspire authority or confidence.

Through the park and across a charming wooden walking bridge, I come upon the Venice-like section of the city. A lovely canal is lined with fancy restaurants and trees in bloom. I’m in between the lunch and dinner service, so while the patios are empty now, the busyness of the services staff indicates a rush to come. It’s peaceful, pretty, and a perfect place to plop down on a bench for the end of my visit in Amiens.