France: Part Une
He who would travel happily must travel light
(by Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
New York to Lyon
It seemed that Thanksgiving came too soon. The days building up to the weekend had been hectic, almost fast paced specially with the surprise visit of my sister to New York. As soon as she left on Thursday night, I started to set aside the stuff I had to pack for my trip. On Friday night, I was sure that not everything would fit, and that is an understatement.
By Saturday morning, a mere 5 hours before I was scheduled to leave, I was still strategizing on how to pack everything in my tiny carry-on luggage. My friend had come to my rescue and his solution was simple and logical: use a bigger suitcase! Stubborn me of course tried to explain my weird logic: I wanted to travel as lightly as possible since I was going to be moving from Lyon to Paris and then to Blois before zapping back to Lyon where I was to take my plane back to New York. The last thing I wanted was the weight of my luggage holding me back.
An hour before my bus departure from Grand Central Station, we were on our way out the door leaving behind a bulk of sweaters and other clothes as well as books and other stuff I had planned to bring to my French hosts. I figure these would have to wait until my return to be shipped to them to double as Christmas gifts.
The trip from New York to Paris was an uneventful 6 hours and nothing compared to the transfer to the transfer flight. Charles de Gaulle Airport has got to be the apex in confusion in airports worldwide. I arrived from New York at Terminal 2F and then was whisk away in a bus to Terminal 2C for my forward flight to Lyon. As the bus wiggled in and out of the terminals, we finally arrived in Terminal 2C. After the customary check-in and security check, upon boarding, I found myself boarding another bus to take me to my plane. The bus circled through the airport, taking such a long time that I wondered if this was actually the bus that would take me to my plane or this was the bus that would take me to Lyon!
In Lyon
I arrived in Lyon on time, promptly as the heavens released the first flurries of the season. It coincidentally also marks Europe’s first coldest week of the year. After a half hour cab ride from the Aeroport Lyon Saint Exupery I arrived at the hotel. Located right across the Parc de la Tete d’Or, the room was a huge suite with a living room, a terrace that looked out to apartment buildings, a fully-modern kitchen, a bathroom with a large bathtub and a bidet (!) and a separate toilet. It was bigger than most apartments in Manhattan and definitely more than twice bigger than my Manhattan studio!
After a brief rest, my friend and I had lunch and a preview tour of Le Vieux Lyon, the old town. The weather had not been cooperating as snow changed to rain and then to sleet while we walked the cobblestone streets of the old city.
We toured the traboulles in Old Lyon. The traboulles are corridors that linked the buildings in Old Lyon. These secret passageways were used during the Renaissance period to protect the silk that had become Lyon’s main trade from the weather. Eventually it became useful in moving the people to safety during the war. The passageways or traboulles are now embedded as part of residential buildings. As part of the tourist attraction of the old town, however, most are open to tourists from the old courtyards.
The next day we decided to go on an adventure of the city, starting with a walk across the Parc de la Tete d’Or. We then tried to find the local Metro that took us back to Old Lyon, only to get lost and to find ourselves instead north of our target and crossing the Pont Morand into the Hotel de Ville area where we couldn’t get a cab to bring us to our final destination.
Not being adept in the French language can prove to be a very challenging when in France. I had been lucky though that now and then I had come upon some locals who had patiently tried to help me out with directions in their fractured English. I was so grateful that they would take their time to help out a lost tourist. I, for one would honestly admit to being ‘not too friendly’ when I am approached for directions by tourists in New York. While in Lyon we have had a man find his way through giving me directions in English, I am guilty of counseling someone seeking out a Starbucks in midtown with ‘keep walking you’re bound to find one’ (which although very true is still not a very hospitable way of showing the city off to visitors. But then again, I am not the city's ambassasor of goodwill!).
After two days in Lyon I took the Bus #47 down the Boulevard des Belges to the Lyon Part Dieu TGV station. I have learned that the only way to truly experience a city is to be one of the locals – to move around on foot, riding the subway or the bus and eating in the restaurants that they also frequented. In the bus, I felt like and was treated like the native Lyonnais and it felt wonderful. I disembarked in front of the Galleries Lafayette but not before asking my bus driver where the TGV station was. He knew I didn’t speak French and so with his fingers pointed to the building across the street from the bus stop and mumbled: TGV.
I was able to book my train ticket to leave Lyon at 10:00 AM and was on the train in no time. I took the very last car in a seat bank meant for 4 people with a table in the middle. As my friend had warned me, the view on the TGV really wouldn’t be much since it would simply be flying by me in full speed. I took a few pictures, installed my iPod into my ears and then napped to Il Divo’s music.
I arrived on time at Paris’ Gare de Lyon and as per instructions from Joy, transferred to the Paris metro to find my way to the Les Halles station where I took the RER train to get to their town. When I called her from my mobile, she thought I was just arriving in Paris. She was surprised to hear that I was a few meters away from her house, waiting to be picked up!
This is how I have always wanted to travel, not helplessly dependent and putting a burden on my hosts. I had been proud of myself for figuring out how to get from Lyon to Paris on the first time I was traveling to the cities where I had absolutely no idea how to speak or understand the language. This to me, is the experience of travel. I knew this was going to be a wonderful start to a brief vacation.
(by Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
New York to Lyon
It seemed that Thanksgiving came too soon. The days building up to the weekend had been hectic, almost fast paced specially with the surprise visit of my sister to New York. As soon as she left on Thursday night, I started to set aside the stuff I had to pack for my trip. On Friday night, I was sure that not everything would fit, and that is an understatement.
By Saturday morning, a mere 5 hours before I was scheduled to leave, I was still strategizing on how to pack everything in my tiny carry-on luggage. My friend had come to my rescue and his solution was simple and logical: use a bigger suitcase! Stubborn me of course tried to explain my weird logic: I wanted to travel as lightly as possible since I was going to be moving from Lyon to Paris and then to Blois before zapping back to Lyon where I was to take my plane back to New York. The last thing I wanted was the weight of my luggage holding me back.
An hour before my bus departure from Grand Central Station, we were on our way out the door leaving behind a bulk of sweaters and other clothes as well as books and other stuff I had planned to bring to my French hosts. I figure these would have to wait until my return to be shipped to them to double as Christmas gifts.
The trip from New York to Paris was an uneventful 6 hours and nothing compared to the transfer to the transfer flight. Charles de Gaulle Airport has got to be the apex in confusion in airports worldwide. I arrived from New York at Terminal 2F and then was whisk away in a bus to Terminal 2C for my forward flight to Lyon. As the bus wiggled in and out of the terminals, we finally arrived in Terminal 2C. After the customary check-in and security check, upon boarding, I found myself boarding another bus to take me to my plane. The bus circled through the airport, taking such a long time that I wondered if this was actually the bus that would take me to my plane or this was the bus that would take me to Lyon!
In Lyon
I arrived in Lyon on time, promptly as the heavens released the first flurries of the season. It coincidentally also marks Europe’s first coldest week of the year. After a half hour cab ride from the Aeroport Lyon Saint Exupery I arrived at the hotel. Located right across the Parc de la Tete d’Or, the room was a huge suite with a living room, a terrace that looked out to apartment buildings, a fully-modern kitchen, a bathroom with a large bathtub and a bidet (!) and a separate toilet. It was bigger than most apartments in Manhattan and definitely more than twice bigger than my Manhattan studio!
After a brief rest, my friend and I had lunch and a preview tour of Le Vieux Lyon, the old town. The weather had not been cooperating as snow changed to rain and then to sleet while we walked the cobblestone streets of the old city.
We toured the traboulles in Old Lyon. The traboulles are corridors that linked the buildings in Old Lyon. These secret passageways were used during the Renaissance period to protect the silk that had become Lyon’s main trade from the weather. Eventually it became useful in moving the people to safety during the war. The passageways or traboulles are now embedded as part of residential buildings. As part of the tourist attraction of the old town, however, most are open to tourists from the old courtyards.
The next day we decided to go on an adventure of the city, starting with a walk across the Parc de la Tete d’Or. We then tried to find the local Metro that took us back to Old Lyon, only to get lost and to find ourselves instead north of our target and crossing the Pont Morand into the Hotel de Ville area where we couldn’t get a cab to bring us to our final destination.
Not being adept in the French language can prove to be a very challenging when in France. I had been lucky though that now and then I had come upon some locals who had patiently tried to help me out with directions in their fractured English. I was so grateful that they would take their time to help out a lost tourist. I, for one would honestly admit to being ‘not too friendly’ when I am approached for directions by tourists in New York. While in Lyon we have had a man find his way through giving me directions in English, I am guilty of counseling someone seeking out a Starbucks in midtown with ‘keep walking you’re bound to find one’ (which although very true is still not a very hospitable way of showing the city off to visitors. But then again, I am not the city's ambassasor of goodwill!).
After two days in Lyon I took the Bus #47 down the Boulevard des Belges to the Lyon Part Dieu TGV station. I have learned that the only way to truly experience a city is to be one of the locals – to move around on foot, riding the subway or the bus and eating in the restaurants that they also frequented. In the bus, I felt like and was treated like the native Lyonnais and it felt wonderful. I disembarked in front of the Galleries Lafayette but not before asking my bus driver where the TGV station was. He knew I didn’t speak French and so with his fingers pointed to the building across the street from the bus stop and mumbled: TGV.
I was able to book my train ticket to leave Lyon at 10:00 AM and was on the train in no time. I took the very last car in a seat bank meant for 4 people with a table in the middle. As my friend had warned me, the view on the TGV really wouldn’t be much since it would simply be flying by me in full speed. I took a few pictures, installed my iPod into my ears and then napped to Il Divo’s music.
I arrived on time at Paris’ Gare de Lyon and as per instructions from Joy, transferred to the Paris metro to find my way to the Les Halles station where I took the RER train to get to their town. When I called her from my mobile, she thought I was just arriving in Paris. She was surprised to hear that I was a few meters away from her house, waiting to be picked up!
This is how I have always wanted to travel, not helplessly dependent and putting a burden on my hosts. I had been proud of myself for figuring out how to get from Lyon to Paris on the first time I was traveling to the cities where I had absolutely no idea how to speak or understand the language. This to me, is the experience of travel. I knew this was going to be a wonderful start to a brief vacation.