I Ain't Lyin'--I Was in Lyon.

As mentioned before, my interwebs don’t work so on Friday (Nov. 5?) I decided to do somethin' about it.  Britney style.  So I made my way to the Carrefour et centre commercial (shopping center) to chat up my dear friends at the Telecom booth.  It took nearly an hour to buy a USB internet thingy.  I came out excited at my newfound information superhighway freedom.  I then went around the roundabout to get to the Macdo so that I could take care of some business such as uploading photos to dis blawg, checking Facebook, and purchasing train tickets to Paris for Thanksgiving.  Went off without hitch.

            I then booked it back up the hill to get to Belley center in order to purchase some cheese (Brillat-Savarin, as I had tasted at the food festival last month) and some pastries from the patisserie because, oh my, I had been invited to a dinner party in Lyon.  This came about rather suddenly, actually.  In my pathetic attempts to make friendships out of nothing, I had decided to email one of the girls I met during the stage at Bourg-en-Bresse.  Wouldn’t you know she was considering planning a dinner party for this past weekend.  Naturally, I encouraged her to do it as it would mean an excuse to get into Lyon (where she lives) for the weekend.  I do everything selfishly.  And so she invited people.  I mentioned to Carine that this fête (party) was a possibility but that I had not yet seen anyone respond positively or negatively to the email invitation and she insisted—insisted!—that I ask Katelin if I could come anyway.  This being France, I was less hesitant to impose myself that if I had been in Uhmerrica.  So I emailed and because everyone wants to hang out with me, she agreed.  Carine also offered me a free ride to Lyon and so I accepted because I’m not made out of money.  Carine said we would leave at 5.

            So, having left the Macdo at 3:30, I was a bit nervous about being ready on time.  Well, everything turned out fine and at 5, I was sitting patiently with my bags packed.  Around 5:17, I got nervous and thought that Carine had left without me.  So I started looking around the halls, but obvio no one was there because it was Friday after 5.  So I texted Katelin that I had potentially been left behind.  I went downstairs to do—I actually didn’t have a plan.  I suppose I thought that I would go to the teacher’s lounge and see if anyone was in there or if Carine had already left.  As I was walking to the main yard, though, I saw who I guessed to be Carine walking back with Camille (another prof boarder) to the building.  My paranoia abated and I nearly clicked my heels as I ran back to the building to pretend that I had nonchalantly been waiting in my room.  Even though I had been totally chalant.

            It’s possible that Carine and Camille saw my chalance because Carine said something to me after she returned, but it was honestly too difficult to understand so I just said something between a yes and a no and laughed.  That’s my default answer in many situations.  Unless they look at me quizzically and then I ask them to repetez (repeat for the second plural, vous.  As in Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?  Ce soir?)  Anyway, the three of us walked to Carine’s car (for she and Camille just started carpooling or covoiturage) and set off.  Not much to report about the car ride to Lyon except I felt kind of sick riding in the backseat.  Oh well.  It was fo frizzle.

            Blahblahblah an hour and a half later, I was deposited at the Clinique Tonkin bus stop to meet Katelin.  But since I was to meet her at the Clinique Tonkin tram stop, I waited until Carine drove away and then walked to the tram stop.  Katelin and I made our way to her apartment, which she shares with a 55 (or 75—she’s not sure) year old woman from the Congo.  She’s uncertain of the woman’s age because the woman has not been living there and will not arrive until December 10.  She’s on vacation.  Love France’s schedule.  So Katelin has a real apartment.  With washing machine, dryer, dishwasher, oven.  It’s maaagic.  On the other hand, though, she has an hour-long commute and generally doesn’t finish work on Fridays until 9pm.  So, there’s that.  She was en train de (in the process of) eating dinner when I arrived, so I ate the quiche au fromage (cheese quiche) I had gotten from the boulangerie downstairs.  We had a few glasses of wine before we headed over to her friends’ apartment.

           These friends are three gentlemen from Brazil whom Katelin had met while staying at the hostel when she first moved to Lyon.  Helder, Andre, and Ivo are studying film at one of the universities in the city.  They’re delightful and incredibly accommodating.  They offered us pasta as soon as we came in as well as bread and pesto.  Katelin recently introduced them to pesto, and they seem to think it goes with everything: pasta, bread, spicy barbecue potato chips.  The five of us spent the evening listening to music, drinking wine, and chatting.  Did I mention that all of this happened IN FRENCH?  Because I obvio don’t speak Brazilian Portuguese, and their English was better than my Portuguese, but not great.  They did manage to teach me two words: bottom=fundo and I miss you=saudade.  Isn’t that lovely?  A word to summarize being without someone.  English and French are lacking. 

            I honestly could have listened to their speaking Portuguese all night, though.  It’s such a beautiful language.  My next project?  Mayhaps.  We listened to some samba and it reminded me of some songs that marked my childhood.  Here’s one that has one of the buzzwords from above.  Around 5 am, once the trains and buses and trams had started running again, Katelin and I left for some shuteye. 

            The next morning afternoon, we got up when Livia called to say she had arrived from Bellegarde, another small town where they’ve placed assistants.  Though hers has a train station.  So we went down to pick her up from the train station.  We sat in Katelin’s apartment for a bit, trading stories of assistantship, before Livia and I went to do the tourist thing while Katelin stayed behind to go for a run and tidy up.  We walked towards the Fourvière, which is a famous cathedral of which I had never heard.  On the way, though, we stopped to peruse a street sale of old French books and postcards (with writing still on the back!).

Naturally, nearby, there were men playing pétanque (boules).  Since Livia takes about 500 photos of each place that she goes, we stopped for photos quite a bit.  One of the men playing pétanque posed for Livia.  It was endearing.

             We walked along the river.  Pretty, right?

Please take note of the graffiti.  I loves it.

We were nearing the bridge we intended to cross when we realized it might be a tad difficult.  Why?  Well, naturally, the grève continues and so there were hundreds of people crossing in protest.  Smoke, flares, flags, signs, and the like included.  (Though none of the signs were as great as the ones at the protests to Restore Sanity and/or Fear.)  

But it was certainly a spectacle.  I don’t know if they do this every weekend or not.  Or if it’s like only the first weekends of the months in which they protest.  By the turnout, it would seem like it’s not a weekly occurrence.  But by the French attitude, it could easily happen every day.  I really have no idea.  On the other side of the bridge, they all stopped and this woman sitting on top of a car seemed to be leading the whole thing while people waved different colored flags about.

Livia and I couldn’t be too mussed, though.  So we went through it to this giant flower tree that Livia’s been following around (or its following her around) the world.  There’s one in Shanghai, one in Singapore, and one in Lyon.  One of those is an imposter, but it’s not the one in Lyon.  I can’t recall just now.  Forgiveness?

            So we took the tram up to the Fourvière because Livia’s not too keen on hills.  It’s quite lovely.

    We went into the crypt where they have some statues and paintings.  For example, they have a BLACK Mary.

Livia then informed me that she was dying for a wee and so I finished the crypt while she went in search of a toilet.  I then went outside where nightfall was quickly approaching to take some more photos and wait for her.  Near the Fourvière is this Eiffel Tower imposter that seems to be covered in satellites.

I don’t know if it’s meant to be artistic or functional, but isn’t it delicious that they’ve combined the two?  Livia honestly seemed to be taking ages to come out so I started to do some tap, which has become my custom whenever I’m standing around.  Then these Italian tourists offered me money.  JOKES.  Wouldn’t that be kind of hilarious, though?  (And lucrative.)  But seriously, I considered peacing out because she must have fallen in.  But then she came around the corner raving about the fantastic panoramic view that was at the other side of the church.  So I went to take some photos but naturally, but this point, the lighting was awful and it looked like any other city at night.

          So we went inside the church itself and saw a bit of a French mass.  Sadly, though they weren’t at the one part in which I could have participated, the Our Father.  They were offering each other peace.  I still snuck some photos of the interior, though.  Since it was dark when we left, Livia and I decided to head back to Katelin’s straight away instead of going night-sightseeing.  We stopped to pick up a loaf of bread, some vegetables for les pâtes (pasta), and a bottle of wine (which I decided to get—even though Livia doesn’t drink because of Asian glow.  I’m not kidding.  She basically said she doesn’t drink because she feels like she’s on fire.  And mentioned that it specifically afflicts Asians.  Aka Asian glow.—because it was on sale).  We had a lovely pasta dinner, preceded by the Brillat Savarin cheese I had brought and followed by the pastries I had offered.  Prepare for Belley domination!

            The next day, we got up around 11.  I’m not sure why, but Livia peaced out almost immediately to check into her hotel for the second night because Katelin couldn’t host her Sunday night due to an early Monday morning.  So she left straight away, but Katelin and I went for a walk about Lyon.  We walked through the Parc de la Tête d’Or (bonus if you remember that that was where the assistant picnic had been) and stumbled upon a baby wildebeest drinking from mama.  

Please note that this is probs not actually a wildebeest.  I'm not a zoologist.  

 We were headed to Place des Terreaux and came upon a pavilion with modern art sculptures, including this fountain: 

It reads Permets m'Amour penser quelque folies. oooor "Allow me, Love, to imagine some follies."

Katelin and I crossed the street to find ourselves between the Lyon Opera and the Hotel de Ville, which each place in France has.  

Even Belley.  Hotel de Ville is city hall.  We went to the other side of the building where there’s an open square (actually, Lyon’s quite like Florence and its piazzas) with a giant fountain with horses whose noses sometimes spew smoke and that’s enclosed by the Hotel de Ville, Musée des Beaux Arts, and a shopping mall.  We could see that there seemed to be a small garden inside the Musée, so we went inside.  It was lovely and private.  

Just a small square, but really teeming with art.  It’s spectacular how much art is just lying around France. 

NBD or anything, but that green statue  not on prominent display is RODIN.  Also, note French girl smoking.  As usje.

            Katelin and I then went up to get a better view of the city.  I can honestly say that I was not disappointed. 

            Then we walked about this little carnival where Katelin got roasted chestnuts.  Her first time.  I had had them in York with Kawai and Greg while studying abroad, so I only had a few of hers.  Delightful and meaty and warm.  This carnival had some crazy prizes, though.  Like, iPads, cell phones, televisions.  It was a little ridiculous. 

            We then went back down to the main bit of Lyon and stopped for a pot of tea.  (Katelin had a glass of rosé.)  Naturally, stopping here made me miss my train back to Belley.  No bigs, though.  We went back to Katelin’s and I had a glass of wine and some cheese before getting on the later train.  Marc picked me up from Virieu and dropped me off chez moi.  And what was the best part about the weekend?  Probably when I got back to my room and realized that heat hadn’t been shut off.

Warmly,
Jess