THERE IS SO much more to France than Paris. Cities like Bordeaux, Lille, Lyon, Nice and Toulouse count for a lot, both economically and politically. The country’s variety is entrancing, one reason why so many foreigners come to France and so relatively few French people holiday abroad. France boasts some of the world’s most beautiful Gothic cathedrals, such as Amiens, Chartres, Notre-Dame de Paris and Reims, as well as some of its finest medieval sculptures in Autun and Vézelay. There are Flemish towns like Lille and Arras, Italianate ones such as Nice and Menton and Teutonic cities like Strasbourg and Metz. And along with Loire valley chateaux such as the fairytale Chambord and the river-crossing Chenonceaux there are the gorgeous multicoloured roofs of Beaune and Dijon, spectacular hilltop villages along the Côte d’Azur and in the Cathar country of the Languedoc—and some of Europe’s most modern and fashionable ski resorts. The political significance of regional France is enhanced by the tradition of multiple mandates, which has meant that many ministers and deputies in Paris have simultaneously been presidents or mayors of local regions, departments or towns. The effect of this lingers even though the Hollande government is trying to put a stop to the habit, at least for ministers. Nor is France as rigidly centralised as many believe. Until the late 19th century most of the population in the south, for example, spoke variants of Occitan rather than French. Now, thanks to successive waves of decentralisation, regional and local government accounts for a fifth of public spending. The weight of what is sometimes known as la France profonde is greater even than this number suggests. Geographically, France is western Europe’s biggest country (even if you leave out the French overseas departments), and much of it has remained well hidden until surprisingly recently. Even today there are not many more visitors to the Massif Central than in the days when Robert Louis Stevenson was travelling with his donkey through the Cévennes in 1878. The Gorges du Verdon, Europe’s very own grand canyon, did not feature at all on maps of France until it was rediscovered at the end of the 19th century. Farming also matters far more in France than in many other countries. The population became urbanised relatively late: even in 1920 over a third of French people lived in rural areas, a far bigger share than in most of the rest of Europe. The cult of the paysan remains: many of today’s Parisian sophisticates can trace their ancestral roots to the countryside, and plenty still keep a property in the country—something that came in useful during and just after the second world war, when food was scarce. Even today the French fervently believe in the magical qualities of their local vineyard or of the terroir.

Politically, agriculture also packs a big punch. Would-be presidents have to spend long hours stroking cattle at agricultural fairs. France is always the stoutest defender in Brussels of the European Union’s extravagant common agricultural policy, the biggest beneficiaries of which are not indigent peasants but the grain barons in the Paris basin. Hostility to CAP reform is unlikely to change under a Socialist government, even though France has now become a net contributor to the policy as subsidies are shifting eastwards.

Popes and presidents

Corrèze is as remote an example of la France profonde as you can find. Its capital, Tulle, has few hotels. The tourist office is not busy, although Tulle has a fine cathedral as well as France’s last accordion factory. The multi-storey car park is free. Yet this region of France has nurtured not only three popes in its time, but two of the country’s three most recent presidents, Jacques Chirac and François Hollande. The joke in Paris has it that French politicians hail either from Corrèze or from abroad (a play on Mr Sarkozy’s Hungarian origins and on the fact that many of them were born in the Maghreb).

The importance of Corrèze to both presidents is hard to overstate. Mr Chirac started his political life as a minister of agriculture. As president he fought tooth and nail against CAP reform. He also ensured that his remote department got lots of goodies from the central government. Two largely deserted motorways run through it. The mayor of Tulle, Bernard Combes, is pressing for a high-speed rail line to connect Paris, Orléans, Limoges, Brive (near Tulle) and Toulouse.

Mr Chirac’s strangest legacy is his own museum, set amid herds of Limousin cattle in the tiny village of Sarran, close to his small country chateau. It contains the usual memorabilia and a library, but at its heart are the 5,000 gifts that he received during his 12 years as French president. The result resembles nothing so much as a junk shop: vulgar T-shirts and flags are displayed in cases alongside hideous plates, a stuffed coelacanth, cowboy boots and vast quantities of other tat. Even the old Citroën in which Mr Chirac paraded to celebrate his election as president in 1995 is on show.

The museum is notable for another reason: its cost overruns and its annual losses. Corrèze has the dubious distinction of being the most indebted region of France. Many people blame Mr Hollande, who was successively mayor of Tulle and then president of the regional council at a time when spending grew fast and bureaucracy mushroomed. His successor as council president, Gérard Bonnet, insists that most of the debt was incurred by Mr Hollande’s centre-right predecessors. He points the finger at the Chirac museum, which cost over €10m to build and, thanks to a scarcity of visitors, manages to lose €1m a year.

Mr Bonnet also says that Paris has devolved many powers to local government without passing on the accompanying cash. (Critics in Paris retort that local-government spending has gone up faster than central-government spending, pointing out that employment in local government has risen by almost 50% over 12 years, whereas central-government staffing has remained broadly unchanged.)

Mr Hollande did more than just run up debts and hire too many public servants in Corrèze. He put down political roots. For many years he made the five-hour drive from Paris to Tulle every weekend to cheer up his supporters. Since he was elected president he has already visited the town four times. Locals are obviously fond of him: Mr Combes, the mayor, once worked for him and praises his “normality” and accessibility. Yet there have been few takers for a tourist trail that includes Mr Hollande’s favourite café, La Calèche, and the local party office where he would sleep on Saturday nights. Perhaps Tulle is just too remote.

Adieu, la Marseillaise

Nobody could say that of Marseille, France’s third-largest city and biggest port. Yet Marseille has had a terrible press in recent months. After a spate of more than 40 drug-related murders over the past two years it is being likened unflatteringly to Rio de Janeiro. The mayor of the worst-affected districts of Marseille caused a stir in August by calling for the army to be sent in. Mr Hollande’s government has responded by appointing a new police chief, the fourth in two years, and by dispatching the prime minister to visit the city.

Locals complain that this is all terribly unfair. Yves Moraine, a lawyer and leader on the council of the centre-right UMP party, says the murders are about account-settling among drug dealers. In other respects the city is doing fairly well. Average unemployment, at one time over 20%, is now down to 12%. And ordinary crime levels, he insists, have gone down, not up. At the town hall officials point to the inward investment that is coming to Marseille. The city has embarked on one of Europe’s biggest urban-renewal projects, including a complete revamp of the old port, in time for its stint as European Capital of Culture in 2013.

In many ways Marseille is an appealing place. As a Mediterranean port it has always been both international and ethnically mixed. Its racial minorities, unlike those in Paris and Lyon, often live close to the city centre, not in run-down banlieues. Wandering in the neighbourhood markets near to the old city and around the railway station, you could easily imagine yourself shopping in the souks of Marrakesh or Tangier.