I got up and asked Mme (fille) for the bill as I went in for breakfast.  This obviously threw her completely as she managed to produce a cold cup of coffee with hot bread! It came to 200 € which was not bad at all for 5 nights B&B.  She was also most solicitous about me going to Lyon with no spare tyre in the car and insisted on ringing Avis to see what could be done. Nothing apparently.  Even she had to give up on the idea.  (But she enjoyed the jazz)  I managed to get all my stuff into the case and then struggled to get the case into the car (with much pausing and puffing on landings).  I finally set off for a last walk around the favourite haunts and a last “glace au rhum et raisin” before getting in the car and setting off  at about 11am.  (The best time to do any driving being those hours when the towns are shut. I have learned from bitter experience that if you set off first thing, you are bound to arrive at your destination just in time to have everything close in your face and you then spend two hours in the car with nothing to do waiting for the town to wake up again).

The drive along the N7 was a dream.  They have done a huge amount of work on this route since the 70’s and far from the tortuous mountain-pass drive that it used to be, it was now a smooth highway where you rarely dropped below 70 kph.  As I went along, I stopped from time to time to try to decide how I was going to miss Lyon.  I could go to the North from Tarare, or to the South from Amplepuis …  Neither frankly appealed to me.  They were both huge detours that didn’t take me to anywhere that I really wanted to go.  In the end, I found myself still on the N7 as I approached Lyon, and in a moment of sheer impetuous recklessness, I found myself following a “Centre Ville” sign.

Obviously, with a city the size of Lyon, it was far less easy than that, and I ended up getting horribly lost several times, and nearly ended up on a toll motorway to Geneva at one point.  As the signs disappeared, or pointed to suburbs I had never heard of before, I followed the principle that if I kept taking the road that led down the hill, I must end up on a river bank eventually, and so it did.  Once I got there however, I realised my folly.  The roads by the river were one-way racetracks with no parking and no visible means of taking any advantage of being where I wanted to be.  It looked like I was just going to be swept away in the traffic until I met up with the Périférique again.  Suddenly I saw a sign for an underground car park and on impulse, I turned in.  

It was probably the most luxurious car park I have ever seen.  It was modern, well-lit and spotless, and everything gleamed and sparkled, (including the white-painted floor!)  In fact I later saw that level 2 was closed for cleaning and a gang of men were polishing the floor and hosing down in there to remove the tyre marks and make it all spotless white again!

I came up to the surface to find that I had struck very lucky.  I was in the absolute heart of the city – just where I had wanted to be without knowing it.  Better still, after wandering around for about 20 minutes, I came upon a delightful hotel (“of character”) on the edge of Old Lyon, and they had a room available. (Two rooms in fact, one on the 2nd floor which was “not renovated” and one on the fourth floor which was.  Thinking about the weight of the case, and looking at the narrow spiral staircase, I settled on the one on the 2nd floor and decided that it had “character” – you know, dirty flock wallpaper, a horse-hair mattress and fluorescent tubes for lights).  On the bright side, it had a big electric fan!  The only down-side, apart from having to find the way back to the hotel later in the car using the one-way system and trying to avoid Geneva, was that they had no parking facilities.  So, having dropped off the bag, I had to leave the car in a long-term car-park nearby. (It will probably cost more than the room!)  Every cloud has a silver lining however, and just by the side of the car park was a delightful music shop, and in the window they had miniature instruments, including a French horn made of brass, which I fell in love with immediately and which consequently followed me into the hotel.

So, I have quite an unexpected bonus.  I had thought that the next two days would be spent in some one-horse country town in the middle of nowhere, near the airport, and that I would have little to do other than organise my packing.  Instead of this, I now have to decide how to cram a visit to Lyon into two days!  I visited Lyon on several occasions 30 years ago, but not really as a tourist to see the sights.  I had some dear friends who lived on a hill overlooking the rivers, and I visited them four or five times.  I also went to the hospital a couple of times to get a host of injections in preparation for a trip to Tunisia that never materialised, and once I went to the city’s main sports stadium to see a Pink Floyd concert (Atom Heart Mother live!)  But I never had the time to just stroll around.  Now I would finally have a chance to really get to know the city and I was quite excited at the prospect.

Having deposited my luggage and the car, I set straight off for a tour of Old Lyon, which is absolutely fascinating (and unlike anywhere else I have seen).  I also fitted in a funiculaire ride to the Gallo-Roman theatres at the top of the hill overlooking the Saône, and the Basilique at Fourvière, where I was struck by the mixtue of styles and the almost Art Deco faces on the statues adorrning the walls - unlike anything I have ever seen on a cathedral before yet rather typical of the time it was built.  On my return to the banks of the Saône, I continued to explore the Old Town, and when I could take no more, at about 8pm, I stopped for a meal at a “Bouchon”.  (A traditional eating establishment only to be found in Lyon Old Town).  I had a Salade Lyonnaise, Andouilletes gourmandes and fromage blanc).  This being Lyon, it is hard to find any course on the menu that actually involves real meat, but they have a wonderful way with offal!  I can only assume that this comes from the time when the Tisserands (silk weavers) lived on the left-overs of their Seigneurs.

I sent Peter a text message this morning to wish him a Happy Birthday, but all attempts to ring him have failed.  I rang Sammy to ask her to pass on my wishes if he contacts her later, but beyond that, there is little I can do. I hope he has a good day.

My big problem at the moment is that I thought I had just about finished taking pictures, but suddenly, I am surrounded with stuff I want to photograph.  My flash-cards are nearly all used up, so thank goodness I brought the computer with me. I shall have to do some transfers and copies and empty off some cards later tonight.

Tomorrow, I shall cross to the Presqu’île and see what I can find between Les Terreaux and la Gare Pérrache!

Next Day >>

<< Previous Day