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.
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
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!
