En Garde

The last French theme park I visited was 25 years ago (when the kids were little), called Festeland, or Foostyland as we always refer to it. We were the only ones there, the attractions were rubbish and I nearly killed my son and me by getting on a ride that was for under fives only. We both sat in a cut out dustbin and hurtled down a Cresta Run type toboggan course, ever increasing in speed until we hit the buffers at the bottom and both flew out of the lethal contraption. I was lucky not to decapitate either of us. The only pleasure derived from the experience was for Anna, my wife, who said it was the funniest thing she'd seen. So imagine my concern when, 25 years on, she announced she had purchased tickets for Puy du Fou, a French (historical) theme park.

Even though we have lived in the Deux-Sèvres for 10 years and Puy du Fou (beech tree hill) is only an hour's drive away, we had never been...but our daughter was visiting from the UK, so we carpe diemed.

As we stepped through the turnstile I experienced a frisson... Mia, my daughter, said it was because I was stepping back in time, but I think it had more to do with the entrance fee. I suddenly remembered why we hadn't been for ten years. 

The park is a huge site built around an old château and divided into different areas: a Viking village, a medieval castle, a Roman coliseum, Cardinal Richelieu's palace ...you get the idea...connected by beautiful gardens, animal enclosures and peasants demonstrating crafts of the time: glass blowing, calligraphy, book binding. 

There are no rides, rollercoasters or spinning teacups, but every area has a 30 minute performance. 'Secrets of the Lance' was the first performance we saw. I thought it was going to be a few knights doing some half-arsed jousting. How wrong I was. It was an amazing theatrical experience incorporating circus performers, stage fighting, pyrotechnics, music and live animals.

Fifteen minutes into the performance I wondered if they had peaked too soon, when a group of marauders disguised as pilgrims on the Santiago Compostela entered, the music cranked up, swords were drawn, identities revealed... the castle wall (which I thought was the backdrop) descended into the ground and a medieval tower trundled centre stage with fire blasting from every orifice and bungee jumping knights. 

At the end of the thirty minute performance, we were in shock, we just sat there marvelling at what we had witnessed. I was quite weepy.

The next location on our whistle-stop tour of French history was a Roman coliseum, holding seven thousand thrill-seekers...who weren't disappointed; with a Ben-Hur style chariot race and the central part of the coliseum metamorphosing into a Roman galleon, swarming with Gauls, repelling the Roman invaders. The highlight of the performance, apart from the slo-mo Mexican wave instigated by a gang of Gauls was, for me, 200 white geese being guided around the coliseum as part of a procession; they really looked as though they were enjoying their part in the performance. I could feel myself getting weepy again. 

This sounds as though I am working for the Puy du Fou marketing department, or angling for a job as a beefy centurion or goose handler. I don't know what's come over me...I don't usually gush...I'm not a natural gusher, ask my wife. 

Whilst catching our breath, partaking in an historically inaccurate burger and chips and sheltering from the rain, in our newly acquired Puy du Fou pac-a-macs, a fellow shelterer said the Viking performance was not to be missed...and how right he was. It had everything from a stampede of pigs, a horse and rider galloping across the performance area in flames, to an enormous owl and even enormous-er eagle taking down a fleeing villager. The only disappointment was the Viking longboat had mechanical failure and didn't make it all the way on stage, leaving some confused villagers standing around, not knowing what to do...but, chuck in some dramatic music, a shedload of sword fighting, flames shooting out of every part of the set and a bishop rising out of the water holding a baby, all in 30 minutes...it was like all my birthdays had come at once. Am I gushing again? Sorry.

I was becoming over stimulated, so it was decided we would check into our hotel, calm down and return for the evening spectacular. On our return we were admonished by a Puy du Fou worker for not having got our hands stamped on departure. I now know what Tampon means in French and will try and slip it into my everyday vocabulary. 

As we sat around a lake with 10,000 other expectant spectators, waiting for the final show; the Night-time Spectacular, I wondered how they could possibly top what had gone before. But, when a pianist playing a grand piano emerged from the water, covered in electric bulbs, my daughter and I looked at each other agog. The piano then started gliding around the surface of the lake. There was dramatic music, lights, fountains, a violinist who could walk on water and an organ which rose from the depths and shot flames from its pipes in sync with the music. As the last chords echoed around the lake the violinist flew off, Mary Poppins style, disappearing into a clump of trees. 

The Puy du Fou magic had taken hold. Wherever you looked there were very red children in plastic gladiator helmets, sword fighting with their dads. I nearly lost an eye in the gift shop to a young chap in a Musketeer costume brandishing his rapier.