“My nephew would rather settle in Lille than Paris,” were the words of my French teacher (a volunteer for foreign students who are learning to converse in French). “C’est plus joli que Paris selon lui,” (it’s prettier than Paris according to him). Is that even possible, I wondered? Despite being largely homebound for over six months now, one has been completely smitten by the charm of this city of love. How could any city match up? And with that thought, three of us (all of Madame’s students) decided to take a trip to judge for ourselves. 

An hour’s ride, Lille is very well connected with Paris; the haze of the fields passing by barely begin to sink in when the TGV pulls into Gare de Lille Flanders. The standard markers of French towns include a cathedral (each more breathtaking than the first) and a Hôtel de Ville. But from the moment you step out of the station, you know Lille is not just another French town. The imposing architecture overwhelms from the word go. Walking past the very gothic Eglise Saint Maurice, you find yourself in a small square with the grandeur of the opera struggling to match up to the Belfry (bell tower) and the town building on its side. A relatively recent construction, the town boasts of being the tallest belfry in Flanders (the Flemish region of Belgium, known for its belfries, and of which Lille was a part for centuries). A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the 104m tall belfry rips through the clear blue skies of this modern ville as a tribute to its history. 

And as you turn to back the opera and the belfry you face yet another marvel; the La Vielle Bourse, the old stock exchange. With the red and yellow façade, bright as fabric, it almost seems like a sofa in the Grand Place; a bystander for centuries and testament of its legacy. The Grand Place is surrounded by buildings typical of Flemish architecture; it is the tourist hub of the city and is buzzing with cafes, shops and bars. I was instantly transported to Brussels, which is where I had first experienced the heritage of a plaza in European cities. 

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“Do visit the Palais des Beaux Arts, while you are there!” our teacher had remarked the day before. And so, as dedicated discipled we marched to this yet another historical building that does more than justice to the gems that its houses within. From Medieval age to Post Impressionism, the museum traces the evolution of paintings and sculptures. Free for all those below 30, it is one of the rare places that’ll make those dragging their feet at the exit of twenties a few moments of feeling ‘officially young’. And true to French tradition of guarding the old order but with a fresh perspective, end the tour with a take on the paintings you just saw through a photography collection of the same. 

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Deciding where to head next, we sat by the fountain outside the museum, munching on the ‘la gaufre de Lille’, a traditional waffle from the very celebrated Pâtisserie Méert that we had picked up on our arrival. A thin, soft waffle with filling, it is perhaps an acquired taste. Or maybe am too old school (still fan of the good old freshy made crispy waffle), especially going by the line that was winding out of the store. And so, fueled by that petit snack or dessert, we then made our way towards through Vieux-Lille (old town) to Rue de Gand, the street for authentic Flemish food. We made a pit stop again at the Grand Place and through the courtyard of the old stock exchange, which was now bustling (lunch time) as a books and posters market. Bathed in the light of the golden sun, the old books seemed like real treasures of gold and the courtyard, a time capsule. 

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One thing to remember when traveling currently in France is to reserve a place for every meal. The idea of walk-ins is ‘outdated’ even in this historic town. Call in or use local apps, but reserve or face the fate that we did. With a day that had started at 6 am, we found ourselves going from café to café hoping that just one might say “Allez-y”. The cobbled roads with packed cafés on the sidewalk, the entire street was one big gastronomical festival; almost like a ritual to usher in the summer sun. The chatter, laughter, sound of cutlery and the commotion of merriment was truly a step into the past (a happy pre-Covid one). 

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Since we found no place to eat, we managed a bar for tasting the famous beer culture of the city. With nothing with fries as the accompaniment, the hunger only seemed to grow. Adamant to try the local cuisine, we ultimately packed food from what seemed like the only restaurant willing to do so, and marched towards a small garden by the Notre-Dame-de-la-Treille Cathedral. There, on the un-mowed grass, among what seemed like a sea of youngsters (Lille is a college town), we dived into our dishes. While we ate in silence, the music from the Cathedral was interrupted only by the clamor of those around us. Never mind that we considered ourselves to be the oldest ones around, the energy of the young was infectious.

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Fueled by the energy (within and around), we stepped into the Cathedral, where a community coming of age ceremony seemed to be in progress. With young children and parents/guardians dressed in their finery, we too partook in the festivities. Partly trying to catch what was being said (an exercise in oral comprehension), sitting at the back, the three of us, coming from different cultures and religions, felt one with those celebrating. Sometimes, in a place least expected, acceptance become easier. 

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Too tired to head to try and see the city citadel, we headed back towards the station to catch our return train. But, not before a quick stop at the famous 3 Brasseurs for some more beer tasting. As the hour of departure approached, I saw a small traffic jam near the station. Suddenly, I realized that in the whole day that one had explored the various corners of this town, one had not noticed any cars. A walker’s paradise, Lille is perhaps best posed to be the capital of ‘flânerie’ (stroll). A historic town, its charm lies in its bustling alleys full of young energy and its healthy distance from modernity that we all seek to escape from time to time. And on the question of whether we’d choose it over Paris, well the jury is still out …