THE TILTED HOUSE

In France today, there exists a place where the human sense of equilibrium falters. Even the laws of physics, as we learned them in school, appear to be defied. This site is located in the commune of Modane, in the Savoie department, and is known as the Tilting House (La Maison Penchée in French).

The name is somewhat misleading, for this was never a true residential house. In reality, it is a military structure constructed in 1939 to monitor the entrance to the Mont-Cenis railway tunnel. Opened in 1871, the tunnel was a landmark achievement, connecting France and Italy and representing a significant advance in Alpine rail transport. However, on the eve of the Second World War, France and Italy found themselves on opposing sides, with Italy openly threatening to annex certain French territories, including Savoie. This necessitated a surveillance and firing post in case of Italian invasion.

At its foundation, the structure contained what French soldiers called a “powder magazine” or pudrière—an ammunition depot. In 1944, before retreating from the area, German troops attempted to destroy it using two wagons filled with explosives. The blast was intended to demolish both the building and the tunnel entrance. Yet, due to its exceptional solidity, the structure withstood the explosion, preserving the tunnel. In the process, however, it collapsed from a height of over ten meters, embedding itself into the ground and assuming the tilted form that defines it today.

This unusual shape would alone have made it a tourist attraction. In addition, local authorities permitted street artists to decorate its walls. While a small minority of visitors objected, most welcomed this enhancement, viewing the colorful murals as enlivening an otherwise austere concrete structure. We belong to this latter group, convinced that bare gray walls would have rendered the building too somber, whereas the vibrant artwork imbues it with a sense of joy.

Visits in 2023

We visited the “house” twice in 2023. The first time, I went with my younger son, Vlad. The second visit included Radu, his older brother, so that he could also experience this architectural gem—an accidental creation of wartime ingenuity. Admission is free, though I am certain it would attract visitors even if a fee were required. Notably, Radu, an avid climber, even ascended the “tower” of the house.

Upon entering, we began in the main doorway, moving along the central corridor that provided access to each room. The sensations were remarkable: although our minds assumed an upright, normal posture, our bodies were inclined left or right, creating a disorienting, dizzying effect.

It is recommended to pause in the main hall before entering the rooms to allow the body to adjust. Inside the narrow rooms, the disorientation intensified, making even moving from one corner to another an adventure.

Some visitors, like Vlad, preferred entering directly through a window to experience the effects more abruptly. He was not disappointed. Radu experimented similarly, noting that whether entering from the hall or a window, the sensation of losing balance was equally compelling: “It was fun, but not extraordinary,” he remarked.

The duration of our stay is hard to quantify. Upon exiting, our heads spun in all directions, struggling to recalibrate to a level surface. Fortunately, the car was parked just meters away, allowing us to recover our sense of balance. As we departed, we cast one last glance at the house, promising to return.

2025 – A Fulfilled Promise

Two years later, on vacation in Aussois, near Modane and the Tilting House, we revisited this unusual site. It remained unchanged: adorned with graffiti, welcoming, and undiminished by rain, storms, snow, or even climate change. We approached it with the same excitement and delight as one meets an old friend.

Time had passed since our previous visit—two years filled with milestones: Radu’s completion of studies and employment, Vlad reaching adulthood. We entered with questions: would the sensations of imbalance remain? Would the dizziness return? Would the instinct to touch walls for stability persist?

All remained as we remembered. Running through corridors and rooms, we re-experienced the disorienting joys of our first visit.

Soon, the moment to leave arrived—too soon, as always. Yet we knew we would return next year, both to reconnect with the beloved Vanoise mountains and to revisit the charming Tilting House.