Day 571 - Lyon, France
In Lyon, at last!
After strikes, fires, errant taxis and missed connections, we finally coughed our way through a strike protest out of the train station and found our hotel. We were looking forward to meeting with our friends, at long last, Perrine and Gaetan, who saved us when our car broke down in the middle of nowhere in Patagonia. We did and had a wonderful dinner. (I'll try to dig up the name and add it to our lengthening list of restaurant recommendations.) They are both enjoying life as they settle into new jobs in one of France's great food cities (the famous chef Paul Bocuse was born and made famous here).
We explored Old Lyon's winding, cobblestoned streets lined with restaurant names like Les Enfant Terrible, and Les Infideles. It was a Friday night and the streets were alive! We walked in thick clusters with young people, families, and the spattering of tourists through stunning Place de la République, a wide plaza in the center of town, and Fontaine des Jacobin. We promenaded along the Rhône and Scone rivers. Notre Dame Basilica, ancient and beautiful, dominates the promontory that overlooks the city. We found it by hiking the five hundred or so feet to the top through an old part of the city and a terraced park, explored it's magnificent interior and, for awhile, enjoyed the breeze and the view.
By 6 PM the restaurants, brasserie's and cafés had opened and spilled their tiny French tables beneath awninged entrances onto the streets, filling them with conversation, eating and drinking. Everyone here is almost universally French. And if there are tourists, they are local. Thousands milled around and through the alleyways and streets somehow both expectant and at ease. There were no cars, just people moving, exploring, talking -- slim, quaffed examples of offhand, sartorial splendor as they sauntered through the streets, like threads in a great urban tapestry.
