Lyon: three-day weekend

Enchanted with the warm, fine sunny days, the prospect of a three-day weekend ahead was a very happy thought. Lyon is a large city 4-5 hours from Gap. With my remaining dwindling days in France, I needed to revisit this city. I found out that it used to be the capital of France, in days gone by.

Travel out of Gap always involves navigating out of the mountains first, before embarking towards one's destination. I needed to get to Grenoble, to make a connection to Lyon. Unfortunately, there had been a landslide which disabled train travel. That meant my trip to Grenoble would be by coach. 

I waited forever for the coach driver, who clearly viewed his job as a means to gain a wage. I think he hated his job. He ate; he smoked; he looked into the distance; he wandered all around the carpark, etc. One minute before departure, he unlocked the coach door, allowing the patient passengers to embark. He ignored us all, didn't check anyone's tickets, didn't help the physically disabled with the loading of their luggage, nor did he give eye contact to a soul. 

In spite of this frigid introduction to my coach trip, I enjoyed it immensely.  The journey was through the most spectacular scenery in the world. With retrospective map inspection, I saw that it is a National Park.

I was listening to my favourite music via earphones, whilst witnessing the towering snow-covered mountains sexily posture in front of me.

As per usual, this photo through the window, does not even hint at the extreme quaint qualities of this little town, secreted away from the tourist invasion. The church spire, ancient bells, donkeys and clock towers seduced my senses.

Springtime meant that throughout the journey, I saw umpteen ways that the locals plough their fields.

The train connection and ride to Lyon was uneventful, but even so, a most enjoyable experience.

With a happy heart, I landed at Lyon train station. I was slightly thrown off kilter, when I realised that I hadn't arrived at the train station that had become familiar to me from a previous visit.

Nevertheless, I had plenty of time to make my way to my accommodation for the night. Two hours, in fact.

I decided to experiment with my internal navigating system. A grand experiment that involved following my gut instinct to locate my accomodation. (The decision to pose this experiment was encouraged by the fact that I couldn't find the tourist office anywhere. The tourist office provides free maps of the area.)

So with only a back pack and a handbag, I sniffed the air, and let my intuition take over. (A sort of "Crocodile Dundee" mentality.)  I turned this way, and then that way, used clues and, of course street signs, to guide me. After an hour, my backpack became unbearably heavy and my back was killing me. I despondently sat down to rest at a bus stop. I realised that my grand experiment had failed. However, refreshed from a 5 minute breather, I rallied my spirits and continued. Just when I thought I had become hopelessly lost, I found the river. Hallelujah! I now knew that I was travelling in the right direction. All of a sudden, my backpack load became bearable again.

With rejuvenated spirits, I continued the grand experiment to "sniff" my way. It took another hour of slow walking to find the chamber d'hôte. Translated, this means room with a host. I thought that it would be a great way to get to know "real" french people. The agreed arrival time was 1800 or 6:00 p.m. I rang the bell. No reply. I waited, and waited. I rang the host's number on my mobile. He asked if I could wait 10 minutes. "Yep. Fine."

 I perched my bum on a bollard. Quelle chance! Some street buskers perched their bums on a bollard each. I was very happy to have live entertainment while I waited.

Half an hour later, my hosts arrived.

I was shown the toilet and the door to my bedroom. There was about one sentence of communication.  I wasn't sure what the deal was about breakfast, towels, etc. But the vibes with my hosts were very, very cold. They turned on T.V. and talked to each other. So I retreated to my i pad; discovered the internet code written on a piece of paper beside the bed, and nestled on top of the bed with the comfort of internet.

I had absolutely no energy left for dinner, so I settled into bed. An early night with no dinner, would not do me any harm, especially as the next day was going to be a big one.

The central location of my room meant that drunken Friday night party-goers were a prominent feature throughout the night and early morning.

The next morning, I thought that breakfast would be provided, but it wasn't. Instead, I received a frosty "Bonjour". I found the bathroom, and luckily I included a small hand towel in my backpack. This allowed me to dry myself after the shower. 

The kitchen and lounge were a pigsty, ( and my bedroom hadn't been dusted, or used, for six months). The mirror was so filthy, I could barely make out my beautiful reflection. The vibes in this joint made me want to leave immediately. So, it was with no regret, that I hastily exited. 

I ate Mc Donald's for breakfast, which filled my tummy nicely.

With my backpack on my back, I worked the boutiques in the main shopping district. It was extremely inconvenient. I was a sitting target for store detectives. All of them made the immediate assumption that I was a shoplifter. The backpack is despised by ALL shopowners; including supermarkets.

I was grateful for the brainwave I had. My backpack had become a thorn in my side. I decided to do a tour of the city on an open top bus. Here is the timetable.

Here is the circuit of Lyon. Lyon has two famous rivers flowing through it; the Saône and the Rhône.

The sights were fantastic.

The windows on the side of this building are painted on. The people depicted in the paintings are famous french people from the past.

With relief, I was able to rid myself of my back pack at 2 in the afternoon. 

The mixed dorm was clean, bright and cheerful.

Next on the agenda was a walk back into town, taking in the sights on the way.

Ancient roman sites were everywhere.

Cute. Mignon.

In the late afternoon, I stumbled upon a cool carnival parade. There was a fabulous atmosphere as drummers pounded their drums.

I trekked up a steep hill to gain a wonderful panorama of Lyon.

The accordionist turned away from me as I attempted to take his photo. How rude! Très impôlit!

The beautiful, imposing church was currently being renovated. I enjoyed sitting inside, soaking up the vibes. The interior was richly decorated.

Descending the hill was a much more pleasant experience. I poked my nose in art galleries, and all sorts of little alleys.

I stopped in at another church which was a lot more simple. By the chance of a beautiful miracle, the organist played magnificent tunes, reminiscent of the Phantom of the Opera. I paused to be entertained for a good 15 minutes of spiritual bliss. 

This candy shop with a pirate theme was absolutely fabulous!

The following day, my mood was a lot more sombre. Last night, an unhappy drunken couple decided to play out a dramatic screaming match right outside the youth hostel window. The 3:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m spat was a nightmare. Add to this the fact that it was impossible to shut out glaring light coming through the hostel window. 

The next day, I suffered terribly from 2 nights of bare minimum sleep.

The weather was grey and the river reflected a monochromatic scene.

I enjoyed strolling through some markets, before retrieving my pesky backpack. The walk back to the train station was now familiar and only took one hour.

I was so glad that I was relatively well organised. I discovered, when my phone and watch didn't tell the same time, that Daylight Saving had arrived in France; heralding the beginning of Spring/Summer.

Fortunately, I managed to catch my train, by a matter of minutes!

Sleep-deprived, with lethargy and apathy, I managed the 3 kilometre walk from the Gap train station to my apartment. I threw my backpack onto the bedroom floor and drifted into a blissful deep sleep for the entire night.