Tonight my merry band of English assistants sprinted through fog and strobe lights, dodged between graffiti-covered walls, crouched in corners and screamed at the sight of each other. We have discovered possibly the funnest place in Douai: Fortress Laser. For the low, low price of 4 euros a head, we got to spend 15 minutes shooting at each other in a war zone. And it was awesome — a sweaty, adrenaline-pumping thrill ride. I even won, probably for the first time in my entire laser-tagging life.
To say that Douai is small doesn't give an accurate description. Certainly, 50,000 inhabitants make up a small town, but it's more than that. Starting from 7 p.m. the streets are empty, the shops and cafes are closed, and once the sky gets dark the atmosphere feels as lonely and creepy as 4 a.m. — even if it's only 8:30 p.m.
We're all trying to give Douai a chance — how well can you possibly know a town after less than three weeks? Last Friday we found a concert by Les Anges Guardiens (The Guardian Angels) at a rustic little Irish-style pub across La Scarpe (the canal) from our building. The music was loud, the air was warm and we started the evening drinking delicious 2-euro wine at a long table outside in a square with plenty of French people. The bar is cozy with rough wooden tables, stone floors and banners for various beers and liquors. We had a quiet Friday night there the week before as well, sitting in a corner sipping white wine.
Part of Douai's somewhat-empty atmosphere comes from all the buildings that are, well, empty. Entire streets seem to be full of closed shops with "For Rent" signs plastered across their windows. Even on busy streets as many as 30% of the store fronts are without stores. I can feel the current economic troubles often in Douai — unemployment, people seeking social services, bars and shops going out of business. The eighteenth-century buildings are beautiful, and the people live up to their nice reputation, but I sometimes feel a certain sadness here. Signs proclaim Douai as "une ville qui bouge!" ("A town on the move!") but most people don't seem too proud to be here or too keen on staying.
All that said, I'm optimistic about this place. Travel opportunities aside, (And they are amazing travel opportunities.) I've found parts of the city I really like. The belfry, for example, the intricate carvings on the doors, the colorful shutters and trim on some windows — I love really looking and appreciating that every-day beauty. I've found a little cafe as well, called L'Equitable. They sell fair-trade, responsible coffee and tea, along with delicious crêpes and soups. I've made friends with the owner, a short, rosy-cheeked man with a huge smile and a welcoming demeanor. L'Equitable welcomes average Douaisiens and misfits alike, and I'm slowly getting to know the staff. I'm going to become a regular, because that's the way to enjoy this town — I have to embrace it for what it is, and get to know the people who are happy to be here.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
La rentrée
Douai is home to some 50,000 French people, the most beautiful belfry in Northern France, between 10 and 20 foreign language assistants, and as of one week ago, yours truly. Eighteenth-century buildings with tall windows and sloping red roofs line the streets and canals. Clouds in various shades of gray cover the sky more often than not. Everyone can tell I'm not French, but they smile and say "Bonjour!" when I pass. If I hold the door for someone I always hear "Merci!" and Douaisiens, as they're called, always hold the door for me.
A few square kilometers of 3- and 4-story buildings surrounding the belfry and a cathedral make up centre ville (downtown), just five minutes walk from my home in La Maison des Elèves, Résidence Condorcet. My room is about 10x12, including the bathroom. I live on a hallway with five other English language assistants from the U.S. and England, tucked away at one end of the 4th floor. All the French students know we're here, and we eat beige food together in the dining hall, but so far we haven't had much interaction. We are constantly formulating plans for how to meet some French people our own age, but have yet to put any into action.
Yesterday we took the train up to Lille to poke around in the big city. More beautiful old buildings (some with cannonballs still stuck in their walls from old assaults) with boutiques, cafés and patisseries lining cobble-stone streets. I ate the Belgian/Northern French delicacy moules frites (fries with mussels) and a sweet, crumbly blackberry tart.
On our way home we had a little adventure... we saw there was a train leaving at 6:05, and the train to Douai was at 6:05, so we got on. For about 30 minutes we sat around making dirty Harry Potter jokes until Kate mentioned that she didn't recognize the countryside, or any of the towns we'd passed. We searched unsuccessfully for them on our maps until a man came by to check our tickets.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Douai," we replied.
"Well then you have a problem," he said, "because this train is going to Belgium."
We wound up in Tournai, a small-ish town with a towering cathedral whose spires dominate the skyline. In the 45 minutes before our train back to Lille, we found some mystery kebabs with chicken marinated in an unknown greasy, yellow sauce. We returned to Douai unscathed, if two hours later than we'd intended.
A few square kilometers of 3- and 4-story buildings surrounding the belfry and a cathedral make up centre ville (downtown), just five minutes walk from my home in La Maison des Elèves, Résidence Condorcet. My room is about 10x12, including the bathroom. I live on a hallway with five other English language assistants from the U.S. and England, tucked away at one end of the 4th floor. All the French students know we're here, and we eat beige food together in the dining hall, but so far we haven't had much interaction. We are constantly formulating plans for how to meet some French people our own age, but have yet to put any into action.
Yesterday we took the train up to Lille to poke around in the big city. More beautiful old buildings (some with cannonballs still stuck in their walls from old assaults) with boutiques, cafés and patisseries lining cobble-stone streets. I ate the Belgian/Northern French delicacy moules frites (fries with mussels) and a sweet, crumbly blackberry tart.
On our way home we had a little adventure... we saw there was a train leaving at 6:05, and the train to Douai was at 6:05, so we got on. For about 30 minutes we sat around making dirty Harry Potter jokes until Kate mentioned that she didn't recognize the countryside, or any of the towns we'd passed. We searched unsuccessfully for them on our maps until a man came by to check our tickets.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Douai," we replied.
"Well then you have a problem," he said, "because this train is going to Belgium."
We wound up in Tournai, a small-ish town with a towering cathedral whose spires dominate the skyline. In the 45 minutes before our train back to Lille, we found some mystery kebabs with chicken marinated in an unknown greasy, yellow sauce. We returned to Douai unscathed, if two hours later than we'd intended.
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