My first attempt at posting this was over a week ago, but that was the day the internet at the hotel didn’t work. Ah, Europe. But here you go, and you can expect the report on Barcelona from Lulu and me within a week, French telephony allowing.
Tout le monde, bonjour. Here I am in France again, after 9 months or so.
After you live somewhere for 2 weeks, you no longer feel like a tourist, so I remember from last year. And after I’d lived in Lyon for another 2 weeks after that, I’d developed a certain love/hate relationship with it. I was excited, at first, to walk to presqu’ile, down the familiar streets, to place des Terreaux - my favorite plaza, to climb the many steps to the Basilique, to eat breakfast at the Paul in the Centre Commercial, to revisit. And once my memory had retraced these patterns, I felt almost at home and wondered after the Lyon underneath the tourist veneer. I think I managed to find some of it, the Lyon that the many (1/2 mil) residents know. I found local-seeming bars and restaurants, cafes, galleries, parks. And it’s a cool town: it’s beauty and sometimes grandeur seems intended for itself, more a self-appreciation than a flaunted display. This balance is the part I like. The part I didn’t like is that I might as well have been invisible. I hardly got a word, smile, or eye contract from anyone of any age or gender with whom I did not work or engage in financial transactions. The people of Lyon are like the pretty, trendy girls in 7th grade – they form small groups, wear perfect clothes, and see only themselves. It got pretty lonely. Now I’m back in Paris, whose personality is far more accessible.
Overall, I had a good time in Lyon, and I experienced new things and took photos of some things from last year that were too impressive not to photograph again. The story is told mostly in pictures. Last year I was fascinated by the showers, the coins, the language, the traffic, all the pissing on the sidewalk, the skinny, well-worn buildings, the history, and everything foreign and possessed of unfamiliar characteristics. I was enthusiastic about chronicling every minor adventure and practicing my storytelling. This year I mostly just took photos. I am perhaps a bit more traveled, tired, and jaded, or so I felt these past 2 weeks.
Lulu arrives tomorrow morning, in just a few hours, and we travel on Monday night to Barcelona. The next time you hear from me, I will be 31 years old and will probably be talking like an excited little boy once again. Until then!
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