Being permanently in the search of strange places, a friend informs us of the existence of caves in a small city has a few kilometers of Amiens. We are equipped with our lamp-torches, cameras, video cameras, cords, helmets, boots, compasses and snack. Departure of Rouen for three hours of car… A true forwarding.
It was beautiful sunny Sunday. We are filled with excitation and the way appears interminable to us. Which was not our surprise when, arrived in the city, we see new signs laid out every 100 meters indicating the direction "caves". Increasingly anxious we finish the arrow course on a giant carpark, with far, a queue guesses ourselves! There are tourists everywhere!!! We fell into an trap-A-idiot!
Paying entry, visits accompanied by a guide, restaurants and bars accepting to it chart-blue, toboggans giant, swivels and swings for the children, swans and ducks in a decoration of chart-postal. There is even a windmill on the hill has to visit at the end of the course! Horror.
We furious, are disappointed, tired by the way and, rather than to make half-turn wisely, we undoubtedly take a ticket by despair! It east can be a single place to be exploited kind… After one hour of tail, we will be fixed: our turn of visit will start in three hours and will last half an hour precisely!!! We are boiling! A small turn with the coffee? Tee-shirts, postcards, memories, "the Troglodyte menu seems less expensive than the stalagmite menu" announces old a hair-curler lady very excited… It is hard.
Three naps later, the great moment arrives! Follow guides it! With the first corridor we distort company has our "group" and leave to explore the galleries randomly. Impossible to lose itself! every three minutes we fall down nez-à-nez with a group of visitors. Our flashlights are useless, of the bulbs are installed every 10 meters. Then one waits, in a recess, one seeks something of a little wild… All like, is outside polluted.
The ground is swept, not a stone which is not well in its place. We are surprised not to meet salesmen of chewing-gum. In comparison, the catacombs of Paris with Denfert-Rochereau are a true labyrinth. Here it would be necessary to be completely drunk to give one gram of emotion. I still wonder what we had hoped for… Undoubtedly deserted caves, far from the noise, of the lights, far from all that is civilized… Caves! quite simply.
To crown the whole, in the last corridors, a setting in scene of most doubtful, mannequins representing the "trades disappeared from the city" equipped way "costumes of time" in a decoration with paperboard paste. The wool ropemaking machine, Tisserand, the basket maker, thepastoral one… As if all that were there to excuse this immense swindles. Then, insane of rage, I took down the copper drum of the rural policeman, and I went up in direction of the car. In my head all was clear, I retained only the only thing which seemed to me interesting: I had just found an old drum while walking me in a cave.
The gendarmes did not hear it thus. The pseudo service of order quickly joined me with the car, five hours of police custody with the gendarmerie of the corner, photographs of face and of profile, borrow digital, depositions, and a beautiful invitation to appear for a lawsuit with the correctional court of Amiens. Head of charge: Flight in a museum!!! !!! !!! … The joke was complete.
