The ever so picturesque Grands Moulins de Paris are precisely 220 miles from Paris so the name obviously doesn't reflect location. My exploring partner was reluctant to go here because he'd heard that it was shit and insisted on calling it the 'Grand Meh de Paris' for the entire trip. Fortunately or unfortunately for him, I tend to get my own way most of the time so it was off to the Grands Moulins before we had to get back on the boat.

"Ye of little faith", I said. He enjoyed it. We marveled at the ridiculously Gothic architecture and the pits of certain death and a good time was had by all.

Apparently a number of people have died here and to be fair, I'm really not surprised. I raced to the top of the stairs to see the dizzying pits for myself, leaving my companion clinging to the walls with hesitance.

So ladies and gentlemen, here are the Grands Moulins de Paris in all their wrecked and hazardous glory.