elevator

Rolling into town the other day on my pod train of Bombardier extraction I was struck by an opportunity Rodez seems to have missed. The gare, or train station as the kids are calling it these days, is at the bottom of the hill on which Rodez perches. To get to it from Toulouse, one goes around almost half the circumference of the hill.

That part of the trip is actually quite nice. If you’re on correct side of the train you get a pleasant view of the city. Of course the cathedral predominates, but there are a few other churches to see and the longer I’ve stayed and returned here, the more I have to pick out from the cityscape. The IUFM where I work, complete with its dining hall in front, Lycée Monteil where I sleep, a white monstrosity that lords over that side of the hill, threatening to devour even the near-by Sacre-Coeur, and if I’m on the other side of the train and very lucky the Géant Casino, which is actually a grocery store, where I go to buy delicious muesli to sprinkle on my weetabix and bigger jugs of milk and orange juice than I can find anywhere else.

This is all pleasant enough, but I would be willing to give it up if Rodez was willing to realize the value of its geography. What better way to take advantage of a city on a hill than to build a train station at its very core?

A train station connected to the hilltop by elevator, one that spits people out in the centre of the city. In my ideal conception the exit, which could be the entrance too but here we are only concerned about people being amazed and dazzled as they arrive, would face the cathedral from the Place d’Armes. In a perfect world the elevator doors swing open, and there in all its majesty is the cathedral. That which is on all Ruthenois postcards, that which is in the centre of town, that which contains the history and future of the city in one fell swoop.

Maybe the train station’s current location is better suited to housing the train yard or servicing the vast majority of the population who drive and don’t live in the middle of the city. And to them I say BAH! Call up Sarkozy, get the cash and start digging.

Dig Rodez, DIG! Dig for your future!