Across the Universe VIII
we rushed to the train station, in hopes of staying on schedule and making it to Florence over the next day. however, isn't the world oh-so-interesting when the cosmos shift and nothing goes according to schedule??!! it turns out we are in the prime of a 'parisian holiday'; tickets were sold out through the week. thee ONLY tickets left were bound for lyon, a major city in the south of france. we figured we would rather conquer another city and work towards getting to italy, than stay in paris- so we took the tickets.
we weren't incredibly thrilled about our minor detour, but took it all in stride.
when we got off of the train, i was pretty positive that i did not want to be there- we didn't know a thing about this place AND there were no maps at the station. Without a map, we were forced to find the town and a place to sleep using only our wits.
the "city" seemed vacated- not a single shop or cafe were open, no one drove the streets, and we certainly didn't see anyone walking. apparently the french don't vacation in lyon, and the fact that it was a sunday, in a religious area, sure didn't help. we must've lugged our packs 5 miles before we began seeing signs for the town center. we were very nervous that the city info center would also be closed, but, by the grace of god- it was open! the sweetest girl was working and she was so patient with the language barrier! there were no hostels in the town, but we were directed to a nearby hotel. do i even need to mention how excited i was to have a HOTEL room? space, cleanliness- not to mention access to a television (french t.v. is RAD!).
there isn't a lot to do in lyon, so we found ourselves moving at a more relaxed pace- having picnics, shopping, late night walks . . .
one night we went to the boat bars- a line of large boats docked on one of the city's rivers with drinking and dancing (AMAZING idea, by the way).
i order a mojito. the bartender picks up on my accent and asks where i am from . i answer, "LA". he asks "but, where in LA?", "oh, you wouldn't have heard of it." "try." "rancho cucamonga." "RANCHO CUCAMONGA? i used to live off rochester!" "bull shit! you spent time in the cuca?" . . . so, a friendship and drunken night ensued. he was sure to take good care of us and insisted on countless who-knows-what-they-were-shots. see- rancho is good for something!
