Well, so much for that plan. I had intended on doing some blogging in Istanbul, but the hostel I was in did not have a public computer terminal and I was too busy to use an internet cafe. Currently I´m in Madrid, Spain, though I leave for Seville tomorrow. This post will detail the first city in the Italian leg of my journey, Milan.
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The train from Nice, France, took me to the Italian border and the coastal town of Ventimiglia. Last time I was in Europe I had to stop there for an hour or so, and this time was the same. I had a one hour layover before the next train to Milan, so, like last time, I walked through the town to the beach and stayed there for a little while before returning to the station. Ventimiglia is a rather dull town with nothing notable about it and it appeared to not have changed a bit since my list time there. From the rocky beach you can see the French Riviera, and wonder why you´re here and not there. Thankfully it was only an hour before the next train, so I didn´t have to spend much time in Ventimiglia before getting out. The train to Milan stopped in Genoa and a few other towns, though nothing I saw out the window grabbed my attention.
Upon arrival in Milan I checked into my hostel, which was conveniently close to the train station. Normally I stay in places closer to the city sights, but in this case I was only passing through Milan so a place by the train station made more sense. After settling in I walked down to the area around the duomo (cathedral) and got a few photos of Milan at night. Next to the duomo is large shopping center, built back during the fascist days, which has a bull mosaic on the floor. People like to spin around on the mosaic, with their heel on the bull´s testicles, for good luck. Last time I was in Milan I was an overachiever and jumped and stomped on the bull before doing a Micheal Jackson-esque spin. My logic was that if just gently spinning on the bull mosaic draws out good luck, then forcefully doing it should gain me even more good luck. I had hoped to repeat my experience from three years ago, but was disappointed to see that the bull mosaic on the floor had been altered, for the worse. Now there was a depression in the floor which made spinning around much harder and made repeating my antics impossible. I did a "regular" spin on the bull, but it didn´t feel anywhere as good as three years ago. After looking around some more, I returned to the hostel and went to bed.
The following day I had a few hours before my train departed, so I returned to the duomo area. The plan was to largely repeat the sightseeing schedule from my last visit to Milan, which was also limited to just a few hours. I went into the duomo, which was free last time but now costs €2. Inside I noticed that they had removed the massive paintings that had been hanging between the columns three years ago. On one hand this made the inside seem larger, but the old look was more distinct. A lot of gothic churches have similar interiors, and I always appreciate ones that try to stand out. There was also a mass going on when I visited, so the area around the altar was blocked off to visitors. Exiting the church, I went around the side and ascended up to the roof. Last time I was in Milan it was cold, gray, and raining, so my view from up there was limited. This time is was just cold and gray, so I could see further, though still not as far as a clear day. While walking around the roof and the church exterior I could see the progress being made on cleaning the stone on the outside of the church. Hundreds of years of exposure to the weather has dirtied the exterior of the church, but the city is in the process of scrubbing the whole church and the cleaned stone is a vibrant bright manila color. I imagine it will take at least a year or two to clean the entire outside of the church, given how large the Milan duomo is. If I remember right, it is the fourth largest church in the world, but I could be wrong about that. When I was done with the duomo I went over to the Duomo Museum, since entry to the duomo also covered that, but being Monday, I found it was closed until 2:00pm and I would be gone before then. To finish up my short time in Milan I walked through town towards the Sforza Castel and checked out the area before catching the metro back to the hostel. There I got my backpack and then I went to the train station for my train to Vernazza. My time in Milan was largely a repeat of my visit three years ago, with a few differences. One of these days I´ll stop in Milan for more than just a short stay and see more of the city, but for these last two times it has just been a stopover city on my way to other places.
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With that we have finally broken into Italy. Next in line for blogging is my time in the Cinque Terre, aka the Italian Riviera.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Cote D'Azure: On The Rocks
This post was typed up over several different points in both Croatia and Bosnia. Today's entry is on my time in the French Riviera, known as the Cote d'Azure in French.
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I arrived in the town of Nice (pronounced like "niece") after dark and in the rain. Nice was to be my home base for exploring the rest of the region and my hostel was only a short walk from the sea. Arriving at night, I couldn't see the water but I could hear it. The next morning I got off to a great start by spilling some of my drink on the floor and a little yogurt on my pants. In my defense, I didn't realize those tables were that unstable and easy to bump. Thankfully those messes were easy to clean. After dealing with the morning's misfortunes, I geared up for the day and went first to the beach. The beaches on the French Riviera are mostly pebble beaches and the waves are small. The water is a deep azure blue, which looks great when the sun is out. There was plenty to do that first day, but I started by taking a seat on the rocks near the water's edge and sitting there for 15 minutes or so. Normally on when travelling overseas I'm trying to make the most of every hour, but every now and then I'll have short periods of intentionally doing nothing. With my moment of zen over, I got up and took a walk along the Promenade des Anglais, which literally means the "British Promenade." The French Riviera is a popular tourist destination these days for people around the world, but it was originally the British, Belgians and Russians who were known for staying here. Back then the British wanted to be able to walk nearby the beach without actually going onto the beach, so the promenade was built. The promenade is just one section of a walkway that extends a long distance - all the way from under Castle Hill in the east to some place far out to the west in the distance. I walked from the area around my hostel all the way to Castle Hill and then turned back into the old town, or Vieux Nice as it's called, and checked out the morning market. Every time there's an outdoor market I pay a visit, though I almost never buy anything. I saw some interesting stuff, including a lot of soap (I guess southern France is known for making fancy soap). From there I explored the old town, checking out the back lanes and taking note of any ice cream or gelato shops I came across. I then climbed Castle Hill, which disappointingly does not have a castle on it. Apparently there used to be a castle up there but it was demolished by one of the French kings who thought it wasn't needed any longer. There's some good views of the town from up there, but there's really no other reasons to go up there other than to take pictures. Coming down from the hill, I followed the green-way city park back to the beach and there I dipped my feet in the water. It was a bit colder than I expected, though certainly not cold. I then walked out to the Marc Chagall Museum, which is inconveniently located beyond the train station and it took me about 30 minutes to get there on foot. Marc Chagall got famous in the mid 1900s, and as some of you know, I'm generally not impressed with modern art, but I had read good things about this museum, so I decided to take a chance on it. I found some of Chagall's work interesting, but others not so much. Many of his paintings are Old Testament scenes, and the influence for much of his work came from his Jewish upbringing in Russia. I returned to the hostel to make dinner and ended up talking with a Belgian girl in the room about various things going on in both Europe in America. As some of you know, explaining the nuances of America to others can be a bit tricky, and I'm not sure that I did the best job of discussing the parts which she didn't understand. When it was all done I ate and then went out to take a night walk along the beach promenade. There were now a few street performers, along with the guys selling knockoff handbags. I got gelato from a shop nearby the town courthouse, which generated a Facebook photo that some of you might have seen. So ended the first full day in Nice.
On my second day in Nice I took a day trip out to the principality of Monaco. Finding the bus stop for the bus to Monaco proved harder than it should be, but in the process of looking I ran into an American couple who were also trying to find the bus, so we formed a search party that tracked it down after a half hour of searching. The bus to Monaco was packed to capacity, so I stood for the 45 minute ride along the coastline. I got off at the bus stop near the palace and was able to get up there just in time to catch the tail end of the changing of the guards ceremony. Monaco can't boast a guard changing ceremony as large or flamboyant as the one at Buckingham Palace in London, but the guards put on a decent show while tourists are busily taking photos. With the ceremony over, the crowd started to disperse and I got some photos of the area around the palace. I considered going into the palace, but decided against it since it was guaranteed to be disappointing after my previous visits to Versailles and Chenoceau. Instead I went over to the Monaco Cathedral, where various Monaco royalty are buried. While I was there someone started playing the pipe organ, though I'm not sure why as there was no service going on at the time. A short walk from the cathedral is the Monaco Aquarium, which used to be run by the famous Jacque Cousteau. I was unsure about whether or not to go in, but I decided to take a chance and went in. The lower levels had large tanks full of various fish and other creatures, but I was much more intrigued by the upper levels which held the skeletons or large whales and sharks, along with old diving equipment. After finishing at the aquarium I went down to the harbor, which is full of large yachts, and walked around to the other side. Moving uphill, I reached the Monte Carlo casino. Peasants like me are allowed to enter the casino lobby, but you have to pay a fee to enter the main hall and the poker rooms have a dress code, which I clearly did not meet. No photos are allowed, but I was able to sneak a few in the lobby. At that point I was more or less finished in Monaco. The whole principality is less than one square mile in size, so you can see the whole thing in just a few hours. On the bus ride back to Nice, I got off at the town of Villefranche-sur-Mer. I had seen the town on the ride to Monaco, and the harbor looked scenic, so I took a walk down there and got some photos. The town also has a fort that's no longer in military use, though it appeared to be closed to the general public. I looped back up to the bus stop and caught the next bus to Nice, which was just as crowded as the morning bus to Monaco. By the time I got back to the hostel it was time for dinner. Afterwards I washed some of my shirts and took another night walk around Nice. Later that night I did some blogging and booking my ferry ride from Venice to Rovinj. These and other things kept me up until 2:00am.
My third day in Nice didn't start out so well, as several days in a row of being up late and getting up early were finally catching up to me. It wasn't until around midday that I felt awake, and for most of the morning I felt like I was wandering around in a tired haze. I visited the morning market again and spent some time sitting around on benches and in a church. The sun seemed stronger than normal, so I stayed in the shade. Originally I had been thinking that I would pay a visit to the town of Antines that day, but the tiredness took all the initiative out of me. While sitting on a bench and looking at a map, it occurred to me that I hadn't gone to the beaches west of the area around my hostel, so I got up walked for just over a mile in that direction. My exhaustion finally let up during the walk and I was feeling much better. On the way back I checked out the Fine Arts Museum, which had a mandatory combo ticket with some other museum that too far away for me to reasonably reach on foot. While walking back to the hostel, I noted that the western beaches were much less crowded than the eastern ones by the old town. It was 3:00pm, and since I was on the Cote d'Azure I figured I might as well go in the water. My hostel let me borrow a beach towel and I went back to a beach called Plage Neptune. It was getting windy and clouds were moving in. The beaches in Nice are pebble beaches, which make the footwork tricky and it's generally recommended for people to wear sandals or swimshoes in the water. I wore neither, and my feet took a beating on all those small rocks. When I came out of the water I had to exert myself, as I seemed to be sliding backwards with each step. I toweled off and then stood around for a few minutes feeling good about taking my first swim of the trip. There was not much else notable that happened that day. I conducted some more "research" by eating at McDonald's for dinner and got gelato for dessert while listening to a violin and cello duo performing on the street. My time in Nice, and France, was nearing an end. In truth, I would be returning to Paris at the end of the trip, so it wasn't really the end but it still felt like it. I was about to transition to Italy, where my love of gelato was about to turn into an unhealthy obsession.
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As of right now it is 6:50pm in Sarajevo, Bosnia. I leave for Istanbul tomorrow, where I'll hopefully be able to do some more blogging and maybe get one Italy post finished.
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I arrived in the town of Nice (pronounced like "niece") after dark and in the rain. Nice was to be my home base for exploring the rest of the region and my hostel was only a short walk from the sea. Arriving at night, I couldn't see the water but I could hear it. The next morning I got off to a great start by spilling some of my drink on the floor and a little yogurt on my pants. In my defense, I didn't realize those tables were that unstable and easy to bump. Thankfully those messes were easy to clean. After dealing with the morning's misfortunes, I geared up for the day and went first to the beach. The beaches on the French Riviera are mostly pebble beaches and the waves are small. The water is a deep azure blue, which looks great when the sun is out. There was plenty to do that first day, but I started by taking a seat on the rocks near the water's edge and sitting there for 15 minutes or so. Normally on when travelling overseas I'm trying to make the most of every hour, but every now and then I'll have short periods of intentionally doing nothing. With my moment of zen over, I got up and took a walk along the Promenade des Anglais, which literally means the "British Promenade." The French Riviera is a popular tourist destination these days for people around the world, but it was originally the British, Belgians and Russians who were known for staying here. Back then the British wanted to be able to walk nearby the beach without actually going onto the beach, so the promenade was built. The promenade is just one section of a walkway that extends a long distance - all the way from under Castle Hill in the east to some place far out to the west in the distance. I walked from the area around my hostel all the way to Castle Hill and then turned back into the old town, or Vieux Nice as it's called, and checked out the morning market. Every time there's an outdoor market I pay a visit, though I almost never buy anything. I saw some interesting stuff, including a lot of soap (I guess southern France is known for making fancy soap). From there I explored the old town, checking out the back lanes and taking note of any ice cream or gelato shops I came across. I then climbed Castle Hill, which disappointingly does not have a castle on it. Apparently there used to be a castle up there but it was demolished by one of the French kings who thought it wasn't needed any longer. There's some good views of the town from up there, but there's really no other reasons to go up there other than to take pictures. Coming down from the hill, I followed the green-way city park back to the beach and there I dipped my feet in the water. It was a bit colder than I expected, though certainly not cold. I then walked out to the Marc Chagall Museum, which is inconveniently located beyond the train station and it took me about 30 minutes to get there on foot. Marc Chagall got famous in the mid 1900s, and as some of you know, I'm generally not impressed with modern art, but I had read good things about this museum, so I decided to take a chance on it. I found some of Chagall's work interesting, but others not so much. Many of his paintings are Old Testament scenes, and the influence for much of his work came from his Jewish upbringing in Russia. I returned to the hostel to make dinner and ended up talking with a Belgian girl in the room about various things going on in both Europe in America. As some of you know, explaining the nuances of America to others can be a bit tricky, and I'm not sure that I did the best job of discussing the parts which she didn't understand. When it was all done I ate and then went out to take a night walk along the beach promenade. There were now a few street performers, along with the guys selling knockoff handbags. I got gelato from a shop nearby the town courthouse, which generated a Facebook photo that some of you might have seen. So ended the first full day in Nice.
On my second day in Nice I took a day trip out to the principality of Monaco. Finding the bus stop for the bus to Monaco proved harder than it should be, but in the process of looking I ran into an American couple who were also trying to find the bus, so we formed a search party that tracked it down after a half hour of searching. The bus to Monaco was packed to capacity, so I stood for the 45 minute ride along the coastline. I got off at the bus stop near the palace and was able to get up there just in time to catch the tail end of the changing of the guards ceremony. Monaco can't boast a guard changing ceremony as large or flamboyant as the one at Buckingham Palace in London, but the guards put on a decent show while tourists are busily taking photos. With the ceremony over, the crowd started to disperse and I got some photos of the area around the palace. I considered going into the palace, but decided against it since it was guaranteed to be disappointing after my previous visits to Versailles and Chenoceau. Instead I went over to the Monaco Cathedral, where various Monaco royalty are buried. While I was there someone started playing the pipe organ, though I'm not sure why as there was no service going on at the time. A short walk from the cathedral is the Monaco Aquarium, which used to be run by the famous Jacque Cousteau. I was unsure about whether or not to go in, but I decided to take a chance and went in. The lower levels had large tanks full of various fish and other creatures, but I was much more intrigued by the upper levels which held the skeletons or large whales and sharks, along with old diving equipment. After finishing at the aquarium I went down to the harbor, which is full of large yachts, and walked around to the other side. Moving uphill, I reached the Monte Carlo casino. Peasants like me are allowed to enter the casino lobby, but you have to pay a fee to enter the main hall and the poker rooms have a dress code, which I clearly did not meet. No photos are allowed, but I was able to sneak a few in the lobby. At that point I was more or less finished in Monaco. The whole principality is less than one square mile in size, so you can see the whole thing in just a few hours. On the bus ride back to Nice, I got off at the town of Villefranche-sur-Mer. I had seen the town on the ride to Monaco, and the harbor looked scenic, so I took a walk down there and got some photos. The town also has a fort that's no longer in military use, though it appeared to be closed to the general public. I looped back up to the bus stop and caught the next bus to Nice, which was just as crowded as the morning bus to Monaco. By the time I got back to the hostel it was time for dinner. Afterwards I washed some of my shirts and took another night walk around Nice. Later that night I did some blogging and booking my ferry ride from Venice to Rovinj. These and other things kept me up until 2:00am.
My third day in Nice didn't start out so well, as several days in a row of being up late and getting up early were finally catching up to me. It wasn't until around midday that I felt awake, and for most of the morning I felt like I was wandering around in a tired haze. I visited the morning market again and spent some time sitting around on benches and in a church. The sun seemed stronger than normal, so I stayed in the shade. Originally I had been thinking that I would pay a visit to the town of Antines that day, but the tiredness took all the initiative out of me. While sitting on a bench and looking at a map, it occurred to me that I hadn't gone to the beaches west of the area around my hostel, so I got up walked for just over a mile in that direction. My exhaustion finally let up during the walk and I was feeling much better. On the way back I checked out the Fine Arts Museum, which had a mandatory combo ticket with some other museum that too far away for me to reasonably reach on foot. While walking back to the hostel, I noted that the western beaches were much less crowded than the eastern ones by the old town. It was 3:00pm, and since I was on the Cote d'Azure I figured I might as well go in the water. My hostel let me borrow a beach towel and I went back to a beach called Plage Neptune. It was getting windy and clouds were moving in. The beaches in Nice are pebble beaches, which make the footwork tricky and it's generally recommended for people to wear sandals or swimshoes in the water. I wore neither, and my feet took a beating on all those small rocks. When I came out of the water I had to exert myself, as I seemed to be sliding backwards with each step. I toweled off and then stood around for a few minutes feeling good about taking my first swim of the trip. There was not much else notable that happened that day. I conducted some more "research" by eating at McDonald's for dinner and got gelato for dessert while listening to a violin and cello duo performing on the street. My time in Nice, and France, was nearing an end. In truth, I would be returning to Paris at the end of the trip, so it wasn't really the end but it still felt like it. I was about to transition to Italy, where my love of gelato was about to turn into an unhealthy obsession.
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As of right now it is 6:50pm in Sarajevo, Bosnia. I leave for Istanbul tomorrow, where I'll hopefully be able to do some more blogging and maybe get one Italy post finished.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Lyon: Confluence
And we're back with another long overdue blog update. I have arrived in Zagreb, Croatia, and the hostel that I'm in has a pair of public computers, so I'm trying to take advantage of them and crank out a post. The keyboard here is close to a standard American one, but with a few keys in different places and several extra letters to accommodate the Croatian alphabet. All that said, we return now to the journey and my time in Lyon, France.
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As I was leaving Amboise, my left knee was still bothering me but it felt better than the day before. I took one last walk around town to stretch and exercise the knee and then grabbed my backpack and headed to the train station. To get to Lyon I had to first had to take a short train ride to St Pierre de Corps and from there get on a train to Lyon. Though I had a second class rail pass, I was accidentally reserved for a first class seat on the train to Lyon due to a mistake by the staff at the ticket office in Paris. The staff wrote something on the back of my reservation stub explaining the situation and it must have been sufficient, because the ticket inspector did not ask me any questions. So, I got to ride first class to Lyon, purely by accident. Having ridden second class on many trains in the past, I can tell you that the first class cars are nicer, but not that much nicer. Personally I would say that if you're thinking of splurging a little on a Europe trip, your money is better spent on something like nicer accommodations or seeing/doing more things than on first class rail tickets. It was roughly a three hour train ride to Lyon, which was serving as the city that would bridge northern and southern France on this journey.
Lyon is France's third largest city, after Paris and Marseilles. Although smaller than Paris, it feels much more urban. I think this is because Lyon is not under the same building restrictions as Paris, so the city can more freely construct taller buildings and there also appeared to be no rules on their appearance. The walk from the train station to where I was staying took me through downtown and across the Rhone River. Lyon has a pair of rivers, the Rhone and the Saone, that divide the city into sections, and where I was staying was the part of the city right between the two rivers. For those interested, it was a five minute walk north of Place des Terreaux. My room was in a 6th floor apartment and the couple hosting me spoke a bit of English, so I was able to talk with them a little. I walked around the neighborhood a little and was glad that my knee was continuing to improve, though I still felt some pain during movement. The day soon ended and I went to bed.
When I got up the next day, my hosts had already left for work, so I had the apartment to myself while getting ready. I had a single full day to see Lyon, and I started it at Place des Terreaux, a large square with a horse fountain. From there I crossed the Saone River to the old town, whose winding streets were a contrast to the straight, modern, grid streets of the newer parts of Lyon. In the old town you can find what are called Traboules, which are covered passageways between streets. These passageways frequently pass through building courtyards and are interesting to walk through, but I do wonder if the locals ever get tired of having tourists in their courtyards. While in the lower part of the old town I also visited the St Jean church. Next to the St Jean church are the ruins of what was Lyon's church during Roman times. This church is the second oldest one known in western Europe (the oldest being the one in Rome) and dates to the second century AD. Interestingly enough, the primary way we know about the church is Roman records of the persecutions they conducted on it. After getting some photos, I hiked up the hill to the upper part of the old town and visited the Notre Dame church at the top (I think there are about fifty or so churches in France called Notre Dame). The Notre Dame church in Lyon is similar to the Sacre Coeur church in Paris in that it is the result of the Franco-Prussian War of the late 1800s; the local bishop vowed to build a great church if Lyon escaped the wrath of the advancing Prussians, and kept his promise after the Prussian army left the city alone. You can tell no expense was spared on the main part of the church by the exquisite mosaics on the walls and all the other decorations they put up. Down in the crypt you will also find something interesting: a smaller church dedicated to Joseph. Those of you familiar with Catholic churches know that Mary normally gets all the love in Catholic art and architecture, so finding a church dedicated to Joseph is not a common occurrence. That said, the priorities of the church are clear, as Mary's church is in the upper level and completely furnished while Joseph is in the lower level and nowhere nearly as ornate (apparently Mary's church was finished first and they ran out of money to finish Joseph's church). After checking out Notre Dame, I went over to the ruins of the nearby Roman amphitheater and its museum. The amphitheater is still largely intact, though the back area, where the rear of the stage would have been, is mostly gone. At this point I had seen everything I wanted to see in the old town, so I came down the hill and crossed the Saone back to the Presqu 'Ile (the peninsula part of Lyon between the rivers). I had a few hours left in the day, so I looked at the map and figured I would walk all the way down to the bottom of the peninsula, to the confluence of the two rivers. However, I did not realize just how far away that was, so I walked for almost an hour to get there. Upon arrival at the confluence, having walked as far as I did, it felt kind of like reaching the end of the world. To solidify this feeling, there are actual train tracks that run to the end of the peninsula and into the river. Not sure why that is, but maybe at some point the peninsula extended further. I stood there, at the confluence of the Saone and Rhone rivers for a few minutes. Were this a movie or a novel, I'm sure the unfortunate students forced to watch/read this scene would have to submit a term paper on the symbolism of this moment. We could no doubt draw many meanings out of the merging of rivers and maybe even say that it is an allegory for life, but that's a discussion for another time. I left the confluence and started back north, but this time I learned my lesson and took a tram most of the way back to the apartment. After dinner I took a short night walk around the old town and then called it a day.
The next day I had a few hours in the morning before my train to Nice, but at that point the only thing I had left to do was to pay a visit to the Fine Arts Museum, which is like the Louvre of Lyon. While not as good as the Louvre, it has a wide collection of art and artifacts, and I spent a bit over an hour in it before leaving. I then took a walk up and down the hill of the La Croix-Rousse neighborhood, which used to be home to Lyon's silk-spinning industry, but is now turning into another hipster gentrified neighborhood. Back at Place des Terreaux I ordered my first kebab of this trip. I do enjoy kebabs, though like burgers, I prefer them without the lettuce, tomato, and onions. Unfortunately I don't speak French, so I wasn't able to communicate that fact to the guy at the counter. No matter, I'm an expert food surgeon. I ate my kebab lunch back at the apartment and then grabbed my backpack and left for the train station. Though I left with sufficient time, I came close to missing the departure time of the train because along the way to the station I got on the wrong subway. When I corrected my mistake and got to the station, there wasn't much time until the scheduled departure, so I ran from the metro into the train station. On my watch I read sixty seconds until departure. "Sixty seconds, I can do this. Just tell me what platform and I can get there in less than thirty" I thought to myself. I came running into the train station, looked at the departure board... and saw that my train was running fifty minutes late. It turns out that I'll my running was for naught, but at least I would still get on the train. All I could do at that point was just sit and wait. When the train eventually came I got on board and departed Lyon.
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That was Lyon. We're almost to the end of the French part of the trip, with the final entry being the next one. The next post will take us to the riviera town of Nice.
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As I was leaving Amboise, my left knee was still bothering me but it felt better than the day before. I took one last walk around town to stretch and exercise the knee and then grabbed my backpack and headed to the train station. To get to Lyon I had to first had to take a short train ride to St Pierre de Corps and from there get on a train to Lyon. Though I had a second class rail pass, I was accidentally reserved for a first class seat on the train to Lyon due to a mistake by the staff at the ticket office in Paris. The staff wrote something on the back of my reservation stub explaining the situation and it must have been sufficient, because the ticket inspector did not ask me any questions. So, I got to ride first class to Lyon, purely by accident. Having ridden second class on many trains in the past, I can tell you that the first class cars are nicer, but not that much nicer. Personally I would say that if you're thinking of splurging a little on a Europe trip, your money is better spent on something like nicer accommodations or seeing/doing more things than on first class rail tickets. It was roughly a three hour train ride to Lyon, which was serving as the city that would bridge northern and southern France on this journey.
Lyon is France's third largest city, after Paris and Marseilles. Although smaller than Paris, it feels much more urban. I think this is because Lyon is not under the same building restrictions as Paris, so the city can more freely construct taller buildings and there also appeared to be no rules on their appearance. The walk from the train station to where I was staying took me through downtown and across the Rhone River. Lyon has a pair of rivers, the Rhone and the Saone, that divide the city into sections, and where I was staying was the part of the city right between the two rivers. For those interested, it was a five minute walk north of Place des Terreaux. My room was in a 6th floor apartment and the couple hosting me spoke a bit of English, so I was able to talk with them a little. I walked around the neighborhood a little and was glad that my knee was continuing to improve, though I still felt some pain during movement. The day soon ended and I went to bed.
When I got up the next day, my hosts had already left for work, so I had the apartment to myself while getting ready. I had a single full day to see Lyon, and I started it at Place des Terreaux, a large square with a horse fountain. From there I crossed the Saone River to the old town, whose winding streets were a contrast to the straight, modern, grid streets of the newer parts of Lyon. In the old town you can find what are called Traboules, which are covered passageways between streets. These passageways frequently pass through building courtyards and are interesting to walk through, but I do wonder if the locals ever get tired of having tourists in their courtyards. While in the lower part of the old town I also visited the St Jean church. Next to the St Jean church are the ruins of what was Lyon's church during Roman times. This church is the second oldest one known in western Europe (the oldest being the one in Rome) and dates to the second century AD. Interestingly enough, the primary way we know about the church is Roman records of the persecutions they conducted on it. After getting some photos, I hiked up the hill to the upper part of the old town and visited the Notre Dame church at the top (I think there are about fifty or so churches in France called Notre Dame). The Notre Dame church in Lyon is similar to the Sacre Coeur church in Paris in that it is the result of the Franco-Prussian War of the late 1800s; the local bishop vowed to build a great church if Lyon escaped the wrath of the advancing Prussians, and kept his promise after the Prussian army left the city alone. You can tell no expense was spared on the main part of the church by the exquisite mosaics on the walls and all the other decorations they put up. Down in the crypt you will also find something interesting: a smaller church dedicated to Joseph. Those of you familiar with Catholic churches know that Mary normally gets all the love in Catholic art and architecture, so finding a church dedicated to Joseph is not a common occurrence. That said, the priorities of the church are clear, as Mary's church is in the upper level and completely furnished while Joseph is in the lower level and nowhere nearly as ornate (apparently Mary's church was finished first and they ran out of money to finish Joseph's church). After checking out Notre Dame, I went over to the ruins of the nearby Roman amphitheater and its museum. The amphitheater is still largely intact, though the back area, where the rear of the stage would have been, is mostly gone. At this point I had seen everything I wanted to see in the old town, so I came down the hill and crossed the Saone back to the Presqu 'Ile (the peninsula part of Lyon between the rivers). I had a few hours left in the day, so I looked at the map and figured I would walk all the way down to the bottom of the peninsula, to the confluence of the two rivers. However, I did not realize just how far away that was, so I walked for almost an hour to get there. Upon arrival at the confluence, having walked as far as I did, it felt kind of like reaching the end of the world. To solidify this feeling, there are actual train tracks that run to the end of the peninsula and into the river. Not sure why that is, but maybe at some point the peninsula extended further. I stood there, at the confluence of the Saone and Rhone rivers for a few minutes. Were this a movie or a novel, I'm sure the unfortunate students forced to watch/read this scene would have to submit a term paper on the symbolism of this moment. We could no doubt draw many meanings out of the merging of rivers and maybe even say that it is an allegory for life, but that's a discussion for another time. I left the confluence and started back north, but this time I learned my lesson and took a tram most of the way back to the apartment. After dinner I took a short night walk around the old town and then called it a day.
The next day I had a few hours in the morning before my train to Nice, but at that point the only thing I had left to do was to pay a visit to the Fine Arts Museum, which is like the Louvre of Lyon. While not as good as the Louvre, it has a wide collection of art and artifacts, and I spent a bit over an hour in it before leaving. I then took a walk up and down the hill of the La Croix-Rousse neighborhood, which used to be home to Lyon's silk-spinning industry, but is now turning into another hipster gentrified neighborhood. Back at Place des Terreaux I ordered my first kebab of this trip. I do enjoy kebabs, though like burgers, I prefer them without the lettuce, tomato, and onions. Unfortunately I don't speak French, so I wasn't able to communicate that fact to the guy at the counter. No matter, I'm an expert food surgeon. I ate my kebab lunch back at the apartment and then grabbed my backpack and left for the train station. Though I left with sufficient time, I came close to missing the departure time of the train because along the way to the station I got on the wrong subway. When I corrected my mistake and got to the station, there wasn't much time until the scheduled departure, so I ran from the metro into the train station. On my watch I read sixty seconds until departure. "Sixty seconds, I can do this. Just tell me what platform and I can get there in less than thirty" I thought to myself. I came running into the train station, looked at the departure board... and saw that my train was running fifty minutes late. It turns out that I'll my running was for naught, but at least I would still get on the train. All I could do at that point was just sit and wait. When the train eventually came I got on board and departed Lyon.
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That was Lyon. We're almost to the end of the French part of the trip, with the final entry being the next one. The next post will take us to the riviera town of Nice.
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