I had not realised how exhausting the last week of riding had been , until I sat down to dinner with my great friend Robin , who had graciously flown in from Moscow , via Los Angeles and London to rendezvous with me , so we could celebrate friendship and a trans Africa scooter trip . Our first night in France was met with jet lag and scooter fatigue , so after a brief catch up it was time to hit deep sleep for tomorrow was our celebratory lunch .
My hotel room , when I opened the door and walked in caused me to turn around and walk out , back to reception to question the size of it . The good news was that my standard room had been upgraded to a suite for a reason even they could not explain , but there I was with my own lounge , dining area , kitchen and then the rest of the suite , so much space , so comfy it was I would end up staying a week , getting to know Lyon intimately and on some level I felt a little local , with my local stores in the surrounding neighbourhood where I would buy my local produce and prepare great meals to music .
Truffle’s and cream
Our chosen venue for the celebration , was to be the father of French cuisine with a pedigree spanning a lifetime , the all time great Paul Bocuse . Known for his old school genius , his food a symphony of rich sauces , dishes wrapped in cream , full of flavour , rich and deep , yet as light as swan lake on your palate , flavours complex as a Rachmaninoff concerto . The attention to detail incredible , wines served at perfect temperatures, , bouquets of deserts , a cheese selection worthy of more than just a mention , coffee , macaroons and chocolate to close . I do love the French , wow did we have an afternoon . Sadly the next day Robin had to return to London and I decided to get lazy in Lyon , spend sometime enjoying France’s second largest city .
Flying the flag.
All about opera .
Cathedral with a view.
I would spend hours walking the streets , like a spy looking , learning and absorbing as much of the city as I could . Morning coffee , street cafes , long walks along the Rhone or the Saone the two rivers that hold Lyon in their flow . Or I would take in the old city , cathedrals , steps to different vantage points , I was enjoying my time here , so the days rolled one to the next and it would be a week before I woke to ride back to Italy,
City of bronze .
City below .
I would also spend this time investigating and trying to organise a way of getting the scooter home , which without the help of the Vespa guys in South Africa would have been a months process . I would also have an amusing dinner in a Thai restaurant where my lack of French , his lack of French and English would result in me getting a starter I did not order but could eat , a great stir fry that I did and the power of language that turned a glass of red wine into a bottle . The chilli was spectacular , those capsicum lava balls dancing the foxtrot on my tongue . I think that heat kept me sober and warm on my walk home in the now almost winter chill. The night temperatures falling dramatically and the wind whipping cold.
The Rhone .
One of the beautiful homes that line the park .
I woke up early on Sunday , the daylight had already started to warm the morning air , I decided to spend my morning in the park , and I think one day I would like to do a photo shoot and call it people in parks , it is amazing what you see an entire world attracted to this green open space that supports life of all kinds . Just fascinating , such a rich insight , a window to a little bit of Lyon life . I loved my sunny Sunday roaming the park.
Hot house flowers .
Another home on the park fringe.
So my week would come to an end and it was time to ride again , Milano was the city to explore next and prepare for the end of my time in Europe , the place to prepare Vic for her shipping and to get me back on African soil , home was now just a ride and a flight away .
Until we meet again.
