Flâneries in Paris: Discover the Butte aux Cailles and Les Gobelins

This is the 27th in a series of walking tours highlighting the sites and stories of diverse districts of Paris.

I was keen to visit the little area of the 13th arrondissement called La Butte aux Cailles because its English name, Quail Hill, has such a romantic ring to it. Perusing the map, wondering how to build a flânerie around it, I spotted another intriguing name not too far away – Les Gobelins. Could there really be goblins there? Common sense told me no, but I liked the idea of following it up, so my next walk had acquired a structure: I would start at the quails and wend my way to the goblins. 

My starting point was up on a hill, just a stone’s throw from the Corvisart metro on Line 6. Was it slightly disappointing to discover that the cailles in la Butte-aux-Cailles refers not to quails, but to one Monsieur Caille who bought a vineyard there in 1543? Actually no, because it turned out to be a pretty little spot which has retained a village feel, perhaps because – a bit like in Montmartre – being above the streets all around it sets it apart. 

My route up was a set of stone steps just across the road from Corvisart, up past the Jardin Brassaï where toddlers screeched cheerfully on colourful play equipment, then into the mysteriously named Rue des Cinq Diamants (5 Diamonds) where the restaurant on the corner set the tone for this quirky street. Carefully painted on the wall of the restaurant Chez Gladines, which serves Basque specialties – piperade, poulet basque, omelette aux cèpes – was the instruction “Port de cerveau obligatoire.” That roughly translates as “You must bring your brain.” 

The street has an interesting past. “Les girls” of the Folies Bergère rehearsed here in the 1920s and 30s and it once housed the training studio of Marcel Cerdan, the champion boxer who captured Édith Piaf’s heart. It was even, in 1783, the landing site for the Montgolfier Brothers’ first hot-air balloon. Today, it’s still not your average street. The estate agent has a lavender-colored frontage, the street art adorning the walls between the window boxes is distinctly classy and the bookshop, called Les Amis de la Commune, sells literature, posters and t-shirts in memory of the socialist uprising which erupted in Paris in 1871. 

Its window was done out in “Commune” colors – reflecting the black and red favored by the insurgents – and the materials on offer were all on message: biographies of key figures such as the redoubtable Nathalie Lemel whose rousing speeches encouraged others to “man” the barricades with her and who was eventually deported to La Nouvelle Calédonie. There was a history of La Semaine Sanglante – the Bloody Week – in May 1871 when troops were mobilized to take back control of the city and over 10,000 communards were killed.   

The Rue des Cinq Diamants led me to a junction with the Rue de la Butte Aux Cailles, where the spirit of confrontation continued in a 21st century context. A car driver and a cyclist, arriving from different angles, gesticulated wildly at each other, both claiming precedence, each expressing their incredulity at the other’s stupidity by raising both hands skywards. Once enough indignation had been conveyed, both grimaced, then carried on their way. Rounding the corner to the left, I saw that the street art was livening up too. The wall next to the corner fruit and veg shop was painted bright pink, a background to a striking mural based on the – English! – slogan “There is no good war or bad peace.”   

I liked Rue de la Butte aux Cailles. The locals had found time to linger over coffee and the second-hand bookshop had a sign announcing that it lent books as well as selling them. Above some of the houses, old-fashioned lantern lights hung out over the street, silhouetted against a bright blue sky. At the end came another little park, the Square Henri-Rousselle, divided into a play area in one half and a terrain de boules in the other, all shaded by spreading chestnut trees. So, something for everyone, laid back and welcoming. But with an edge too, as I was reminded by the slogan daubed in red paint on the zebra crossing at the end of the street: Pas de planète B – there is no Planet B.  

Rue Bobillot, quite narrow and darkened by big trees on both sides, felt immediately different and it led me down to the Place d’Italie which is certainly no Butte aux Cailles. A tarpaulin covered the massive IKEA on the corner, but the centre commercial promised 130 boutiques and the theatrt next door offered a varied program: Manon des Sources for Marcel Pagnol fans, Sherlock Holmes, l’Aventure Musicale for those who like their detectives to sing and dance, and a lively-looking tribute to Black American music called Black Legends.  

The Place d’Italie’s central green space sat amid traffic and noisy roadworks, but to get there I had to cross a road so busy that the zebra crossings each had a traffic island midway and a sign warning pedestrians not to try and take both halves in one go. Once I arrived in the middle, I could see pigeons spattering water about in the large, flat reflective pool and I wondered whether the surrounding benches would make a nice place for a sandwich lunch. Maybe, if I was on a short break from an office nearby. But if I had more time to spare, I think I’d wander a little further from the traffic in search of a garden square. 

The 13th arrondissement’s town hall – a Haussmannian beauty – sat resplendent on the far side of the square. Three flags fluttered from it – French, EU and Ukrainian – and a central clock tower divided the large façade, where golden letters proclaimed proudly that this was the Mairie du XIII arrondissement. On both sides was the key phrase found on all France’s public buildings, also in gold: Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité. I made my way behind it and down Avenue des Gobelins, a wide road with quite a bit of traffic, but a “boulevard” feel nonetheless. The restaurant terraces were filling up as lunchtime approached, but I was on a hunt for the intriguing Gobelins or, in English, Goblins.   

As I neared the end of the avenue, I spotted what had to be it – a huge, impressive red brick building with stone archways all along the ground floor and cream-colored roundels decorating the upper half. I’ve learned to keep an eye out for the brown oar-shaped signs outside important buildings, because they explain the context and sure enough, here was one telling me that Les Gobelins was once the home of the royal tapestry makers. That explained the pictures carved onto the stone roundels along the top of the building. They each represented one of the processes which led to the final product: tonte, lavage, fileuse – shearing, washing, spinning – for example.   

I learned that it was here, in the late 15th century, that Henry IV rented workspace for the Flemish weavers whose work he so admired. From that grew the tradition of making tapestries – and other furnishings – for royalty and under Louis XIV, the Gobelins Manufactury, as it’s known in English, became an official royal factory. A chequered history followed, including closure during the revolution, reopening under the restored Bourbons and eventually a take-over by the state.   

Today it still produces fine works commissioned by the government and there are examples in use in some 600 state-owned buildings.  You can join a guided tour of the Gobelins to learn a little of its history and see the weavers at work and I resolved to come back and do that one day. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help imagining there were goblins hard at work inside, weaving their magic from ordinary threads.  In fact, Gobelins was simply the family name of the first dyers who ran their business on this site in the 15th century.  They leased some of their property to Henri IV, who retained the name, perhaps because he too found it quirky. 

Just outside was the Gobelins metro station where I’d planned to finish my walk. I enjoyed this little part of the 13th arrondissement, with its mix of the everyday and the unexpected. There may be no goblins at Les Gobelins and no quails on the Butte aux Cailles, but the quaint names, reaching far back into the past, add to the eclectic feel of the area and I was glad I’d had the curiosity to go and have a look. 

DETAILS

Gobelins Manufactory/ Mobilier National
42, avenue des Gobelins, 13th
Guided tours of Les Gobelins take place on Wednesdays at 3 pm. They last about 1 hour 30 minute and cost 15.50 €. You need to book in advance. See here for details. Exhibits are staged at the Mobilier National’s gallery which occupies the site.