I’m just going to say this and let the chips fall where they may”
I lyke Lyon.
(Hey, don’t blame me if the French can’t spell.)
Anyway our river boat, Amacello (French for Cello with an Ama in front of it) arrived at the confluence of the Rhône and Saone rivers.
Only to find Lyon unexpectedly lurking there.
Reputed to be a large French city without the panache of Paris or the, um, piscine perfume of Marseille.
And so we rode. Because riding is what we do.
Lyon is an eclectic city.
An amalgamation of modern architecture…
…and classical (been here for a long time, still here and not going anywhere) relics.
We arrived at the guilt-edged gates of Gold Head Park.
Only to discovere a flock of flamingos conspiring in menacing fashion.
Not to mention another form of wildlife that appears to be enjoying altogether too much revelry.
Funny story: The park is so named because of a legend that Knights Templar buried a treasure here that included a golden head of Jesus. Apparently so many folks took it seriously that they had to ban metal detectors from the park.
They have an indoor tropical forest.
Where they grow chewing gum.
Like Paris, Lyon goes to great lengths to keep cyclists and pedestrians safe from cars. I know of no U.S. city that does this.
We came upon a building that consisted of one great mural depicting various distinguished French persons doing various distinguished French things.
I didn’t recognize any of the distinguished French people depicted. But of course I’m a western barbarian.
Lyon is a city of the arts. There are murals everywhere. Plus, you know, museums and studios and models and statues and graffiti and crayons and stuff.
We came upon a humongous fountain of snorting horses guided by. bare breasted maiden in an equally humongous square. I have been given to understand that the guy who designed the fountain also designed the Statue of Liberty.
And that he was, for all intents and purposes, a distinguished French person who did distinguished French things.
To get into the Old City you go through dark hallways that double as apartment ground floors. Looking up, I was momentarily distracted.
Pigeons glowered at me.
They still practice the ancient art of silk weaving in Lyons. They wouldn’t tell me where they keep their silk worms, but I assume there are silk worm ranches just outside the city.
The annual silkworm round up is said to be a sight to behold.
Oh, and the bakeries are very proud of their pink bread.
The Old City has narrow streets.
But not narrow minds. Tarot reading anyone?
Listen, Lyon is a wonderful city to see by bycycle (French spelling again).
Loved it.
This is Ron Cunningham and I approve of this message.
FreeGNV 