Saturday
Lyon

After a few days of gloomy rain, the weather on our final day of this cruise was crystal clear; at least it was before the sun came up. As I usually do, I got up before the sun, got my coffee, and took a look around. We were docked on one side of the river in Lyon, maybe below the point where the Saone joins the Rhone. Of course the day before we had been well up the Saone in Beaune, but I explained that little change in plans on the previous page. To get back on topic — when I looked out of a window (porthole?) and saw the lights of the old city of Lyon across the water, I left the depths of the ship, coffee in hand, and went up top, just to try and get a photo of what I saw. It was totally intriguing, and I still hold that to be true, even if it was only the early hour that made it appear enticing. The almost perfect reflection of the shore lights in the river caught my eye and just held on. I think that sight was the main impetus for my deciding what my day would be like: I wanted to go see the places that made my morning so interesting.

After breakfast Judy and I continued our recent pattern of going on separate shore excursions. We covered most of the same territory, but we did it at different speeds. We talked at lunch only to discover that we both enjoyed all the same things during our morning walks. I’ll just prattle on about my experiences here, beginning with our first stop, which happened to be on the near side of the river — the site of the much newer Halles Paul Bocluse, Lyon’s indoor food market. As it turned out, our stop here was only my introduction to Lyon as a center of French gastronomie, and by the time we left for home, I had all sorts of plans for new menus. I’ve said before that Judy and I look at such places differently. I freely admit that I spend more time in wine shops than she does, for example. In spite of our different approaches, when we compared note later we discovered that we both noticed a lot of rosy pink confections. Everywhere. Left, right and in between. I would soon learn why, when my group crossed the river to begin our walking tour of the old city–vieux Lyon.

We took a coach from the market to the other side of the river, the part I had photographed before dawn. We started walking away from the river and paused for just a moment to look at a rather imposing 19th-century building that had been important to the history of banking in France. Then we headed into the narrow streets of the medieval city, and I learned a new word: traboule. Almost all the streets, narrow as you would expect given their age, run parallel to the river, and there are very few cross streets that connect them to each other. Instead there are traboules, enclosed passages that sometimes lead into an inner courtyard and at others just sort of tunnel through buildings to the next street. Many of them are maintained and open to the public, though others are for private use. Except for the occasional shop, it was hard to know what might be behind some of the doors. I thought about how perfect Lyon would be for a movie chase scene, or even for kids playing hide-and-seek through the various tunnels,

The publicly accessible traboules are marked, if you know what to look for, but I was really glad when our guide knew where to go not only to show us the passages but also some of the inner courtyards of specific buildings. That was fun, and you can see some of the photos of those places when you look at some of the shots at the bottom of the page. I especially liked the building that still had its original well in one corner. Much as I enjoyed that part of the tour, it wasn’t the best part by any means. That distinction was reserved for our stop at a patisserie, always one of my favorite places to visit in any French city. Look at those delicious confections in the window! And notice all that rosy color — that might be a little orangey, as seen by my camera. That color is the “famous” praline Lyonnaise, the candied nuts that form a common element in many of the local pastries. Delicious.

In the afternoon, Judy and I chose not to make the trip to see the cathedral and spend some time in the upper city. If they ever read this, our children will probably not believe I willingly missed visiting a church, but it’s true. We looked in on the silk painting demonstration, and Judy even took a brush and participated briefly in it. However, we spent most of the time packing and preparing for our return flight the next morning. Once our luggage had been removed we waited in the lounge for our time to board a taxi and ride to the airport. While we were there, the cloud cover that had been around most of the day broke for a few minutes and gave us the chance to get a great look at the same buildings that had intrigued me early the morning before. I think we were really lucky to have this sort of good-bye wave from Burgundy before we headed home.

Photos