A MONDAY IN LYON IS STILL A MONDAY

Today was a series of small disasters, but with temperatures climbing into the 70s and sunny, who cared? The first disaster was trying to buy a packet of ten tickets for the Metro. After several tries at our local station, Bob noticed that the machine (no people around to help, of course) would not accept a credit card. Finally, a man showed up and tried a credit card purchase and gave up. He spoke English and said we had a choice of going to one or the other station next on the line. Since Bob had wanted to clarify our car rental at the train station (potential disaster #2), we walked to that station. 

Small part of Perrache Train Station

However, WHERE was it in what Karin described as a pot of spagetti walks, roads, and tunnels? After much searching and guesswork (no helpful signs, of course), we finally found it. 

The disaster Bob wanted to avert was having to cancel our 11:30 am pick-up time in order to re-book it for 9:00 am, a transaction that would have cost us a penalty if we did it online. When we finally found the rental desk, the problem was solved in no time. No penalty. So far, so good. Then it was back into the maze to find the underground station, and there—praise the lord—the credit card worked, and we boarded the Metro for a quick trip to Lyon's Museum of Fine Arts. (Okay, Margaret, are you happy now?)

Rick Steves said the museum was “impressive,” but we

didn't think it was. Bob tends to rate museums by how many awful paintings it has of St. Sebastian, the one pin-cushioned with arrows. How this tradition of his began, I don't remember, but Lyon's museum had only ONE St. Sebastian, and he didn't even have a single arrow sticking out of him. Either the artist thought his executioners were poor shots, or the museum curators mislabled the painting. But for us, it was symbolic of the visit. Not much there to see—not even one star—er, Sebastian.

Armed with seven good Metro tickets, we could easily have ridden back to the flat, but since it was such a beautiful day, we walked. On the way, Bob and Karin educated me on recent changes in men's styles. The current “in look” is men's jackets that look as if they'd shrunk, so that the arm lengths are well above the wrist and the length of the coat is half way up the rump. It's not a pretty look, but having had it pointed out to me, I began to notice it on the street. Let's hope it doesn't skip over to the US.

We stopped for wine at Nicolas, a popular wine store in the Place des Jacobins area. We picked up two bottles of local wines suggested by the helpful man behind the counter.

Next, after a quick stop at the store for milk, water avec gaz, eggs, and bananas, we returned to the flat for down-time (otherwise known as nap-time). Bob took no pictures at all today. Why photograph a disaster, a near-disaster, or worse still: an arrow-free saint?

(Pictures you do see here are 'imported.'--B)