Author: Taran

Born into a middle-class English family, Taran was educated at a minor UK public-school and graduated from Imperial College, London as a mechanical engineer. He worked variously as a marine engineer, a marine surveyor, a company owner and as an industrial accidents investigator. He is a family man although now divorced from the mother of his two sons. He has travelled the world extensively, often as part of his employment, but also many times simply for the pleasure of experiencing new countries their cultures and their people. As well as calling England his home for much of his life, he is also a citizen of Canada where he lived for seventeen years and has had homes in Nigeria and Kuwait. Now retired, he lives in California, happily married to his second wife, and close to both his sons and his grandchildren. He continues to travel as often as possible and is enjoying his dream of becoming a writer.

Lyon – part two – A fine park and a suspect mushroom!

Our first two weeks in Lyon passed by quickly and the time soon arrived for us to move to different accommodation and become full-time tourists. We had originally intended to stay the full month at Les Toits de Lyon but the threat of climbing 150 stairs up to our private eyrie twice a day or more for all that time, was more than your scribe’s knees liked to contemplate. So we had found another abode at 154 rue de Moncey in the newer Part-Dieu district of the 3e arrondissement. This 19th century bourgeois building is in the area of the city originally constructed in the epoch of grand architecture, in the style of Baron Haussman who designed much of elegant Paris we know today. Sadly many of those grand buildings have long since disappeared, allowing the construction of more modern buildings such as the magnificent 200m high Tour Incity overshadowing our second abode, the adjacent over-rated, Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse, a more mundane Galeries Lafayette Lyon Part Dieu, and a selection of hotels such as Ibis, Mercure and Novotel, all of which, though useful to business and tourist traveller alike, detract from the innate attractiveness of the city of 100 years ago.

La Tour Incity

So we got to see a very different side of Lyon than the one we had so enthused about in the previous fortnight. The main redeeming feature of this new environment was that we found ourselves to be just a ten minute stroll from Le Parc de la Tête d’Or, 117 hectares of urban parkland, incorporating a large lake, a small but well stocked zoo for which there was no entry fee (one of the many advantages of living in a socially aware state), large greenhouses and botanical gardens, and large swathes of open grass and patches of woodland. Well frequented by locals of all ages and athletic capabilities, it was a lovely place to walk, jog or bike around and feel somewhat removed from the hustle and bustle of the city. As with large parks in other great cities, the park was surrounded by many elegant buildings housing embassies, consulates, upmarket consultants and the like, making it as pleasant a place to walk around, as to wander within.

 

The lake in the park
Park sculpture to inspire young lovers!
Message to all students, “Go out and move the world!”

However, we still found ourselves continually drifting back to the old town, enjoying the atmosphere of the many outdoor cafes and the famous bouchons where in older and tougher times, the matrons of the town would serve hearty portions of simple, but tasty fare to their low-paid, artisan clientele. Those same tasty dishes still comprise the major portion of the goodies listed on today’s menu boards, but they aren’t all to everyone’s taste incorporating as they do all the tasty offal, tripe, fishy bits and fatty bits that modern western cuisine has come to avoid. Definitely food more suited to the ‘gourmand’ than the ‘gourmet’, but nonetheless appreciated by many as attested to by the full tables that we passed on our many peregrinations through the old streets.

Wise Mandarin saying: “This duck is not for eating!”

Beguiled by the tourist hype surrounding these famed Lyonnaise eating establishments, the main mass of which are to be found in Vieux Lyon along and around the old cobbled street rue Saint-Jean, we tried them a couple of times with varying degrees of satisfaction. Our first experience, to celebrate the end of the first week of our return to student life, was at Bouchon des Filles, a cosy little bistro, well off the main tourist trail, on rue du Sergent Blandan. We both love soufflé and, as well as the restaurant’s high rating on Trip Advisor, the mention of ‘Soufflé au Grand Marnier’ on the web-site menu grabbed our instant attention. Typically we found it was off the menu the Sunday evening of our visit, and we contented ourselves with entrées of terrine de joues de porc and main courses of roignons de veau avec du riz – not so well appreciated – and une quenelle de brochet avec sauce de crevettes, very typical Lyonnaise and quite delicious. Your cheese-loving raconteur also enjoyed his introduction to Brillat-Savarin, a soft, white cow’s milk cheese, somewhat like Camembert, and also from Normandy. A reasonable introduction to the much-lauded eating scene of Lyons but not really enough to make us want to pursue it too often at the expense of our intended ‘cooking-at-home-like-the-locals’ regime. However, as we had Celine’s friend Danusia staying with us towards the end of our stay, we decided to give it one more try. One day, after a visit to the fascinating Musée des Marionettes in Saint-Jean, the oldest part of the city on the west bank of the Saône, we happened to pass a very nice looking bouchon on rue Mercière called eponymously Le Mercière which, coincidentally, had its interior decorated with models of Guignol, the marionette that we had just learnt made Lyon’s puppetry famous. So without further ado, and omitting our usual cautious ‘let’s read the reviews first’ approach, we decided to eat there and then, found a table outside where we could enjoy the passing crowd, and, while sitting next to a chatty group of local businessmen, had another unremarkable meal including quenelles de coquilles, tablier de sapeur lyonnais (a load of tripe!), volaille de challans and some desserts. What we hadn’t bargained for was the interesting cèpe, part of the sauce served with the hard plank of tripe, that found its way into this writer’s stomach and provided an unforgettable psychedelic trip during the ensuing night, a very weird, unexpected experience indeed!

Now that’s a cèpe! Looks tasty enough!

 

Step one, a month in Lyon.

The sun was shining brightly as these two weary travellers unloaded their bags from the taxi outside 24 rue Lanterne, on a medieval thoroughfare whereon blood flowed freely from the many boucheries of yesteryear, till the neighbourhood gentrified and became the home of famous goldsmiths, painters and surgeons, and finally the site of the Hot Club de Lyon, France’s first gallery devoted entirely to jazz, right next door at no.26. Greeted at the door by our new host, we entered our new temporary home within a noble 17th century building, with its tall, heavy, wooden front door, two steps up from the street, and after climbing another 150 steps upwards we arrived at the tiny garret we knew only as “Les Toits de Lyon”, a miniscule penthouse with 360 degree panoramic views across the rooftops of Old Lyon, that we would call home for the next four weeks.

Les toits de Lyon, seen from our bedroom window.

Why then did we start in Lyon? A very good question, the simple answer to which is that that beautiful city was more or less halfway between Paris, our initial European landing place, and Provence, our first designated area of investigation, and from all accounts was a city that deserved the attention of two discerning travellers. We had also discovered that it was home to several worthy learning establishments where we might further our knowledge of the local language, plus the draw for one of our number who was particularly intrigued by its reputation among the gourmands of this world, and . . . why not? Why not indeed, for as we soon discovered Lyon is a truly wonderful city to experience. Built around the confluence of two great rivers, the Saône and the Rhone, it has a history that goes back to ancient times when it was the capital of the Roman province Gallia Lugdunensis. The oldest medieval and renaissance parts of the city straddle the River Saône and spread eastwards to the banks of the River Rhône, across the other side of which the city spread as industry boomed during and after the French Revolution and on into the 19th and 20th centuries. Lots of history to explore, museums to visit, churches to admire and gastronomy to discover, and plenty of time in which to do these things; for this is not touring à la Thomas Cook, more along the lines of The Grand Tour, so admired by the wealthy young bloods, poets and artists in the days of the horse and carriage, when luggage meant a whole lot more than one can cram into a carry-on on Ryanair!

Having established ourselves into our little nest, five flights – and no lift – high above rue Lanterne, with it’s birds eye view of the corrugated red clay roof tiles of the old city and across to La Basilique de Notre Dame de Fourvière

La Basilique de Notre Dame de Fourviere, from our studio window.

sitting imposingly atop the hill of Fourvière above the bouchons of La Vieille Ville de Lyon on the western bank of the Saône, we soon settled into our daily life as students at L’Inflexyon, a small establishment offering language courses at many levels of competence. It is fair to say that we were certainly the elders among our classmates, an eclectic group of fifteen or more Asians and Europeans from many different walks of life, some studying to gain credits for university and others like us, wishing to hone our language skills to better appreciate the finer points of conversations and life in La Belle France. We studied there for a fortnight, about five hours a day, five days a week, enjoying our walk to get there for 09:00 hours, in the fresh morning air among office workers, parents taking their children to a creche or to school, shop owners preparing themselves to open at 9.30 or 10, small delivery lorries, city trams and buses and street cleaning vehicles, the sidewalks nearly all cleaned of the previous day’s detritus, past the few cafes open to satisfy the early morning caffeine fix, and up the hill towards Croix Rousse and so to our destination, on the narrow, unimposing rue René Leynaud. Our, mainly young, teachers were also an interesting ethnic mix, French born and bred by no means in the majority it seemed. After studying assiduously for three hours we would take a lunch break, which gave us a reason to test out the local cafes, several of which, such as Le Tigre on Montée de la Grande Côte, offered good healthy options so we weren’t obliged to over-indulge on well-filled crispy baguettes, coffee and patisseries, despite the protestations of one of our number who continuously found the temptations of french fromages, saucissons and various offal-based delights extremely difficult to resist. Being close to the Opera National de Lyon and the Hotel de Ville, we would often walk off our lunch wandering around the handsome streets, enjoying the warm September sunshine. Sometimes we’d just sit beside the fountain in the corner of Place de la Comédie and people-watch, that time-honoured activity that is so much a part of European cafe culture. After a further hour or so of study, we would wend our way back to rue Lanterne, sometimes stopping for groceries at a Bio store on the way, at other times detouring to take in the beauty of the city of Lyon, it’s superb position between two great rivers and surrounded by hills on three sides and its delightful architectural mélange. Our first taste of daily life in France suited us very well!