14th of May.
Of the 14th of May I must confess I can tell you precious little. As I have mentioned in previous entries I am relying heavily on my images to remind me of what I did on any particular day, it really was becoming a bit of a trip. The sole image I have from this day is the one you can see and was apparently taken at 1808 hours. I have no clue if I had been out and come back to the hostel or woken up late, as is something of a habit of mine and was preparing for an evening’s on the town. I cannot, to my eternal shame even remember what that food was but see yet another baguette just peeking into the image and I do recognise a cocktail sauce when I see one!
All I can tell the reader with any certainty is that I was still in the excellent Le Flaneur hostel, enjoying it immensely and in great danger of falling foul of the travel inertia I have mentioned before.
Please bear with me, I promise I’ll wade quickly through my drinking exploits asap and there will be some travel stuff coming up very soon and so I shall rapidly pass on yet again to the next day.
15th of May.
The 15th May arrived and I had apparently awarded myself a bit of a lie-in as my images don’t start until about lunchtime. My dorm in the hostel was ensuite but didn’t have any windows and so it was a matter of showering and getting dressed before you opened the door to see what the weather was going to do to you. I had been heading ever Southwards in the hope of escaping the cold and rain of Northern Europe but it really wasn’t happening and so it was a very happy Fergy that walked out into a glorious Spring day which thankfully looked much more like Summer. Contrast these images to those from earlier in this entry where it was, frankly, miserable. Off and running.
I know that the “romantic poets” or whatever they are properly called (I am no scholar) waxed lyrical along the lines of “my heart soared like a lark” and other pretentious drivel of that sort but, this particular day and after the weather I had suffered (I use the word advisedly) for so long, my heart was in a fairly good place and dragging my head along with it. Sure, they were a bunch of pampered little brats who would nowadays be called “trustafarian smackheads” but they may just have had a point. Out of their heads on what were still legal narcotics in those days they may just have hit on something. In this vein, a certain Lord Byron will feature a bit down the road in this blog so stay tuned for that. I was in such a diametrically opposed position to that in which I had left home six weeks before it was literally unbelievable. I had really got my shit together, if you will pardon the extremely crude expression but it was just that sort of day. Think Katrina and the Waves (go on, work that one out).
Anyone who knows me or who has randomly stumbled upon this blog will know that I simply adore just wandering aimlessly and very often getting myself completely lost. Certainly I love to visit a museum, cathedral or monument as much as the next man but it is completely unscripted meanderings without aid of a map and the technological ineptitiude that precludes me using the one on my ‘phone that leads to some of the best times. We return to another of my several travel mantras in that there is no right and no wrong way to travel and this is my way. I suspect the only potential wrong way would be to sign up for some hugely regimented trip when that is not your preferred style.
I know Lyon is a city with a fantastic history and many fascinating sites / sights to see and yet, in the many days there I saw precisely nothing and yet I had such a good time, hung out in places that never see a tourist, brushed up my appalling French, ate some great food, met some lovely people and generally had a thoroughly enjoyable time.
A walk on a glorious French Spring day revealed some wonderful architecture which I loved and then it was down to the river, I do love being by the water and Lyon served me perfectly. Whilst many major settlemnts grew up historically along rivers Lyon boasts not one but two major waterways, namely the Rhone and the Saone. I had either bumped into or would bump into both of them on this trip and I do rather love them. On this afternoon I wandered along the Rhone, which is the larger of the two rivers and marvelled at the superb wide embankment where people seemed to congregate after work. Well, it is a beautiful place to do it. They even have the municipal swimming baths located there.
Naturally, a couple of bars featured on my ramble and my images suggest that the Monopole and Ed’s featured amonst others. As always, full tips to come in due course.