Week 2 – August 2003 – Lyon

Bike Touring, Lyon

We arrived in Lyon on Sunday and spent the day with Sandrine, an old friend of Stéphane’s from high school. We ate royally that night, enjoying a never-ending barbecue on the terrace among friends.

Since the beginning of this summer, one question has come repeatedly to mind: why don’t the French believe in ventilation or air circulation? I’m not even talking about air conditioning, because that is entirely out of the question. But what about a simple fan? Why does that seem to be so taboo? I’m talking about a summer where the thermometer has been registering in the 90’s every day for months and in the upper 90’s and 100’s every day for weeks on end. And that without a single breeze. It doesn’t promise to get any better any time soon. And still, it never crosses anyone’s mind that a fan might prove to be useful. Granted, most summers are rather mild – this summer is really quite an exception – but still, it would seem that in a heatwave like this, there would be a run on fans in the stores. But no. So when I ask people why they don’t have fans, they look at me rather blankly and respond that they just simply never thought about it. Quite a difference from our over-air-conditioned lives at home.

After a relaxing day spent with Sandrine, we left Lyon to head to a northern suburb, Limonest, where Stéphane’s godparents live. Our route through Lyon was quite an experience. We had not realized that Lyon had so many pretty mountains – so many STEEP mountains. Which makes for quite a beautiful city with numerous panoramic viewpoints, but also for quite a challenging city for a cyclist. And because we did not know the city, we asked Monique, Stéphane’s godmother, for directions. She gave us, quite naturally, the direction she usually takes with her car, never thinking about whether it was practical or even possible by bike. We arrived at the end of the day, half-dead, and re-counted the story to Norbert, his godfather. Norbert burst out laughing, saying that Monique must have been trying to kill us. She had sent us through the steepest hills in the region, whereas we could have avoided the worst ones by taking another route. Monique sheepishly admitted that even her car sometimes had a hard time finding the energy to make it up the hills.

Régis, another friend from Lyon, arrived that night for cocktails and proposed taking us out to dinner in the city. We took him up on the offer and he took us to a charming restaurant on the peninsula of Lyon. To our delight, the restaurant was on the other side of the Sâone River, which you reached by a riverboat. The meal lived up to the expectations created by the charming ambiance. We ate very well – Régis’ treat – and finished the meal with a “gratin de fruits rouges,” a selection of seasonal berries complemented by a sweet cream, a bit in the style of a crême brûlée. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful evening, only I wondered why Stéphane had never introduced me to that fabulous dessert during the three years we lived together in Paris. He responded that Lyon was known for its fine cuisine and that they have many treats that are not known in Paris. Everyone I have met since has confirmed that if you want to eat very well in France, Lyon is the place to go.

The next night, Régis invited us to a concert given by a Portuguese singer, Misia, and three guitarists at the ancient Roman amphitheatre in the old district of Lyon. We enjoyed the semi-tragic note of the chords struck by the singer and her intimate anecdotes against the backdrop of the night sky lit by lightning.

Wednesday we spent visiting the old quarters of Lyon, classified by the UNESCO as part of the World Heritage sites (see the section entitled “UNESCO” to find out more on our visit of Lyon).

We finished the week with Monique and Norbert and I was very happy to finally get a chance to know them after having heard so much about them. Aside from our wedding, I had only met them once before, when I spoke only the very basic French. This time, we were able to talk more easily.