Krakatoa, South of Paris (Cont.)

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Outside Magaine November 2002

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Out There
Krakatoa, South of Paris (Cont.)

VULCANIA'S BIGGEST potential problem isn't Giscard's ego, however. It's that, like so many French films, the place is beautiful but a little dull. My tour was supposed to last a day, but I saw and did everything there was to see and do in less than two hours.

If Vulcania is a snooze, it's because

Valéry Giscard d'estang wanted a park that was, above all, tasteful. "There was never any consideration of rides," he says solemnly.

the designers bent over backward to make sure entertainment did not outweigh education. As Boulliaud put it: "We have to be certain that the exhibits in the park have scientific information and are not just for fun."

And there lies the hidden flaw of third-way attractions: It is possible to create a theme park that satisfies everyone but the tourists. Parks live or die on word of mouth and repeat business, and while I understand why Vulcania is packed with curious families now, it's hard to imagine people running home to tell their friends it's worth 17 bucks.

Oh, well, if Vulcania tanks, there's always the allure of the real volcanoes. Auroi suggested that, before I left town, I take a trip to the top of the Puy-de-D(tm)me, to see what attracted people to the Auvergne in the first place. The Puy is a mile-high volcanic peak with an extraordinarily ugly TV antenna anchored on top that gives it the appearance of a Prussian military helmet. Every few years, its steep incline serves as a punishing stage in the Tour de France, but the day I visited, most of the action consisted of thirsty backpackers looking for water and a dozen or so parapenters buzzing around in their Day-Glo getups.

You can buy a silly volcano T-shirt and a nice glass of Bordeaux on the peak, and the views are great. But it's pretty obvious from the lack of humanity on the surrounding hills that what they say in Paris is true: The Auvergne really is the middle of nowhere. As I sat with my wine and watched a flier stub out his cigarette and soar above the invisible theme park below, I thought: Vulcania or no Vulcania, this is still one of the least Americanized spots left in France. No wonder the French don't want to come here.

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