A Friendly Kidnapping in Lyon

I had overspent. In an attempt to treat myself like royalty, I gave myself no limits on my birthday which would come back to bite me in the fresh light of Monday's bills. You see just because it feels like I've left Portugal behind doesn't mean I'm not currently still paying to live there - social security, income tax etc. You forget that....Well, I forgot that.

The combination of poverty and my unforgiving menses made me want to stay inside. And I probably could have. The Airbnb I chose was a spare room in a couple's penthouse apartment. It was flooded with light and had a perfect view of the city below. I could clearly see all I needed to see from up here. Why leave?

That day was the only full day I would get in Lyon before moving onto my next destination so I'd have to make it count.

I searched my bags for my last pennies and sat numb at the bus station listening to Spare (Prince Harry's book) through my headphones. Though the day was bright, my eyes glazed over staring into the road. I could've sworn I nodded off before a lady lowered her passenger window.

"Where are you going?" she said.

A women in her early 70s with perfectly round thick rimmed glasses, a pointed nose and pink lipstick lowered her head from the driver's seat to meet my gaze.

"Perrache," I said. That's the central station in Lyon.

She beckoned me to hop in, remarking under her breath that it's not warm enough for me to be waiting for the bus alone.

If she was a kidnapper, she was certainly a polite one. I hopped in without too much thought, hoping that I'd interpreted the situation correctly (this was all in French after all), gleefully jumping into my kidnapper's dull silver Fiat.

I introduced myself and she too. Lucie. She enquired about my story and I hers.

She was a teacher but was long retired and enjoying it. She was originally from Québec but had moved to Lyon in 1972 after marrying her husband. Her mother would say:

"Vous avez un mari, vous avez un patrie."

You have a husband, you have a country.

I giggled. She asked me if I was married too.

"No actually, I've just gone through a breakup," I said.

She frowned, "but you are okay?"

"Yes, it was for the best."

She assured me my person was out there and smiled with her whole heart.

We chatted some more before she left me at an intersection to continue my journey.

Pity. I was quite enjoying this kidnapping.

"Bonne chance dans la vie," she chirped after me.

Fortunately, this wasn't the only burst of warmth I had exploring Lyon.

Toulouse is who I feel I am inside. Gritty, intriguing and a little miserable at all times. Lyon is who I want to be. Colourful, fashionable and charismatic. It's lyrical and bubbly. You smile and the city smiles back. People say good day to you on the street and nod with knowing eyes. I've seldom felt so seen by a city.

An interesting aspect of Lyon is how anglophone it was. In other cities, I would get by in my broken French and the locals would be patient. In Lyon, more often then not, someone would try and switch to English. I would always stop them given that I'm determined to master my French but it did surprise me how often people were willing to converse in my mother tongue. Call it a sign of the city's general openness or its proximity to the international hub of Geneva, but the Lyonais were the most willing to embrace me as I was, struggling French and all.

Given my affinity with the city, I attempted to balance both tourism and the every day. I bought a travel magazine. I took a thousand photos. I saw a movie with French subtitles. I had conversations with fashionable women, bookshop owners and baristas. I felt beckoned to experience the full scope of Lyon.

I ate well as usual too.

Brunch at Diploid

Fresh orange juice

Pulled pork on a cornbread hash brown

Green tea infusion with oolong and jasmine

Chai latte

€26

I also sat in a florist café before my cinema trip which was delightful. Embraced by plants from all corners and tempted by fresh infusions which was what I needed.

Though I did a lot, I was gentle with myself, allowing my body to feel settled and walking at a far more leisurely pace thany typical army march.

The city sparked too much joy to speed through it. So on this day I focussed on the new town and the next day, I'd focus on the old. The bubbliness of everyone here can even turn my miserly frown upside down which is no small feat. I recommend Lyon for a cosmopolitan city feel with village-like friendliness.

More in part deux!

Ta ta for now,

Olivia