Beaujolais, Burgundy, Beaune and the lovely Pommard

I'm tucked into my little airbnb spot in lovely Pommard. It's been a long day, driving out of Lyon, through the towns in the  Beaujolais and Burgundy regions, all vineyards and golden stone villages glowing in the sunlight, then on to Beaune, and the extra few minutes up here. This town is tiny. It looks like the place where Chocolat was filmed, but smaller, with narrow little streets that bob and weave, and great vistas of vineyards filling the gaps between the stone fences and villas. My bnb is actually a little winery/tasting room.  I sat out front sampling their wares and sketching the street scene.  My neighbours were out there too, down from Amsterdam for theweekend.  They had a Barbra Streisand doll who travels with them.  They dress her up  in cute outfits and take photos in cities all over the world.  Yes, they post them on her facebook page.  Will investigate when I'm less tired.  

There's apparently one really good restaurant here in Pommard that you need to book weeks ahead to get in to, and one other one that I just couldn't get interested in, so I drove back to Beaune for dinner. It's one of the biggest wine centers in France, and it attracts a lot of people. The architecture is truly astonishing.  Loads of Medieval and Renaissance buildings everywhere!  Apparently there's even some pre-roman structures still standing there.  It was a walled city, and a lot of that is still intact.  Old Town, in the centre, is loaded with cafes and restaurants all spilling out onto sidewalks. There's a real scene here. Very international. Lots of what i think might be Dutch and German being spoken.  I sat in a cafe and ate boeuf bourginon and had a glass of something lovely from the area. When in Rome...

I had to laugh whenI saw this little pencil case. For anyone who knew me when I was post-crash, two arms in casts, checking my email with my toes on the computer, you'll get whyI had to buy this. It says: "they adore my method of checking emails". It's now holding all my sketching pens. 

So, goodbye Lyon. It was an amazing experience from start to finish. I made good progress speaking French, and I made a couple of friends I will keep forever.  My last night, rather than going out, I curled up and had one last lovely dinner with Dominique, followed by my first ever game of Scrabble in French!  This morning I met up with Julie and did one last tour of the Presqu'isle, lunch on the banks of La Saune,  then walked up to Part Dieu to pick up the car and head out. 

Thank you to everyone, Dominique, Julie, my prof Laura, and the staff at Lyon Blue.  I would SO do that all over again. 

Now on to pick up my hubby in Paris tomorrow and start the next chapter. Yay!

Resto Bistrot in Vieux Lyon

We are wandering the streets of Vieux Lyon, my friend Julie and I.  It's one of the largest Renaissance districts in all of Europe, which makes it pretty prime sketching territory.  We were initially looking for the Traboules, the secret passageways that connect one street to another through hidden doorways, used most recently to evade the Nazis, but they were apparently too hidden for us today.  There are a million incredible viewpoints here  The one that is ending up in my sketchbook, this peek into the doorway of the Saint George Church, was carefully selected by my stomach. We were tired and hungry, and there was a sign out front offering mini raviolis with salad and a 'bon prix' for a 'pot' (pronounced Poe, as in Edgar Allan) of wine. Sold.  It's less touristy here than around the Cathedral St. Jacque just up the road.  The walls around us are loaded with tins, bottles and boxes from another era. The prices are written in francs on little cards fixed to the front of the old wooden shelves.  The tablecloths are red and white checked (bien sur) and the pot of wine is served  with sturdy little glasses.  The people in the restaurant all seem to be local, and all seem to know each other.  Lots of cheek-kissing going on. We can't help but notice that the faces here are just so...French!   We are both working on our journals, doing our best to speak only in French, a battle we're mostly winning. The patron is fussing over us just the right amount to make us feel welcome but never hurried.  

This is pretty much exactly what I signed up for. 

My Lyonaisse Nest and le Petit prince

Here I sit, sick in bed. 'J'ai attrapé un virus' is the French version. It's an opportunity to stay in bed, and to use my favourite new French expression, 'Rien de tel que...', 'what better to do than...'. I love my little nest here. Note the coffee mug that matches the bedding. 

I picked up this postcard of one of my fave statues here. It must have been shot a while ago, because now the statue is obscured by trees, which makes it even more magical. 

Text under the postcard reads:

When I arrived at the apartment here in Lyon there was a copy of Le Petit Prince waiting for me  on the desk in my room. Lyon is pretty proud of Antoine de Saint-Exupery, who was born and raised Lyonais. And so they should be. I've been reading this book every night here, and when I'm too tired to read, I pull it up on YouTube and some man with a great French speaking voice reads it to me. Part children's book, part philosophy, it's magical. I'll have to pick up a copy of my own. I'm wearing this one out!  When the guide took us to see this statue hidden in the trees at the edge of Place Bellecour (spoiler alert) and told us the story of the demise of Saint-Exupery I had a bit of a teary moments the story of his crash changes a bit depending on who's telling it, but it's always sad. 

Two Favourite Fountains

This city is full of amazing statues and fountains. Yogi, who barks at the former and tries to jump in the latter, would be endlessly stimulated here.  It is pretty spectacular. The other thing they have in abundance is bridges. There are 28 of them connecting la Saunemand le Rhône to the Presqu'isle. During the war the nazis blew out all but two of them.  Now some of the bases are old and beautiful, but the decks are all post WWII.  We had a good look at them on our little river cruise boat on Sunday which, if you find yourself here, is worth taking. 

The text under the postcard reads:
Fontaine Bartholdi
From the same man who brought you the Statue of Liberty, this beauty sits in the "Place des Terreaux". If you could see the whole fountain you'd see a woman (representing France) and four raging horses, each one representing one of the four main rivers of France. It is apparently magnificent in the winter, all iced up. But, if you think I'm going to take 'their' word for it, you don't know me very well ;-). Hello excuse to come back.

The part facing the angels reads:
These little "angelos" adorn the statue at Marechal Lyautey (pronounced somewhere between 'loiter' and 'haughty', which makes a lot of sense after you spend an afternoon here). They each represent something; navigation, commerce, geography. the square, very close to where I'm staying, is pretty live.y. There's a flower shop in one of those beautiful old iron kiosks, and a cafe, and this week there's a boule tourney. It's bocci, but French.

Canada Day in the land of Liberté, Égalité et Fraternité.

It's Canada Day today.  Where is my habitual "Miss Canada" pedicure?  Not this year.  Intead I celebrated by belting out a Blue Rodeo tune while rowing around the little lake in the middle of Parc de la Tête d'Or.  In a black and white striped shirt. Not very Canadian.   May as well have had a baguette under my arm which, it turns out, is not a cliché but just something you see here all day long. 

This is the sketch I did on Day One in Lyon, although the arch on the facing page didn't happen until today.  A little creative editing. Is it masking a spelling mistake in French?  Only I will ever know now. But, if you're wondering, the French word for glue is colle. Verb?  Coller.  ;-) 

... and here I am, little traitor, rowing my french boat in my French T.  

Look, behind me,it's the Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere and the Tour Metalique!  Those two things sneak up on us wherever we go. They're very helpful in finding our way around. Thanks Julie, for coming with me, putting up with the Blue Rodeo song, and for playing photographer here. 

Mouthwatering Wares of Halles Paul Bocuse

It's Sunday. I'm having a bit of a 'lie-in', but theres so much to do, and my two week stay in Lyon that seemed so ample when I arrived is shrinking fast. I'm happy to be finished with school for a couple of days. We only go for a couple of hours a day, but it's enough to get the brain swimming. Bon or bien, mieux or meilliere, pres or proche, rapide or vite, these are the current challenges. I understand the mechanics behind it, but getting it right while you're talking is like effectively adjusting your tire pressure while you're riding along on your bike.

The biggest part of the learning definitely comes between classes, talking with Dominique. And talk, we do!  About everything; kids, men, our childhoods, religion and spirituality, philosophy, France and her history, social issues in both countries, and the merits and shortfalls of Hugo Montenegro's translations of Bob Dylan songs.  Yesterday we went to the Marche Paul Bocuse (he's a very big deal here). I took about a million pictures of the food in the market stalls and we lunched on tiny quenelles floating in marinara and chocolate cakes baked in large dixie cups smothered in a raspberry rhubarb sauce. Afterwards we walked to the art supply store and... Dominique bought herself a paint kit and watercolor paper!  She's been working her way through my book. I felt like a proud parent. As did she when I told her the market was 'bien', but the quenelles were 'bon'.  It's all coming together.

Here are a few of the shots from the market yesterday. Make you hungry?

Afterwards we came home for some lunch, then drove up to Fourviere in the rain. Apparently you can see the alps from there, but not yesterday.  We could just barely see the rooftops of Lyon. It was beautiful though. The view is spectacular, as is the basilique. Standing inside, it was the first time in my life I've looked at something and thought it held the same kind if exquisite complex beauty as the mechanics of the human body.  Or maybe a dinosaur skeleton.  It looked like it could run or fly. Every centimeter is either delicately carved or part of a complicated mosaic. It is really unbelievable. And just enough sunlight came out as we left to make the golden virgin standing on her tower shine. Beautiful.

Another day of adventure awaits. Time to get to it.

Deux Lits Sur Rue Duguesclin

Woke up early this morning and decided to sketch the view from my bed (again). I've been finding it hard to sleep in the mornings because the light fills the room way before its time to get up. When Dominique saw how industrious I'd been in the morning, she realized I didn't know there were shutters outside the windows. She showed me how they work, and tonight I'll sleep like I'm in a tomb. Thank God. One more night on 4-5 hours and I won't be speaking ANY language. 

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Funny that in a city of half a million people both places I'm staying here in Lyon are on the same street. The first, chez Berenger, had this knock-out view! The second, chez Dominique, is absolutely magical. My bedroom looks onto a very typical Lyonnaise building with its tile roof, wood valances and little iron balconies. 

The two hills are called "la Colline qui Prie" and "la Colline qui Travaille"; the hill that prays and the hill that works. Fourviere, of course, has the basilica, and Croix Rousse is where all the silk workers lived and worked. 

I went on a guided walking tour of the presqu'isle with the school yesterday. The history of this place is so interesting, with hills that work and pray, male and female rivers that surge together, church and commerce that have a 'mine is bigger than yours' fight on a hilltop (The Tour Metalique was built to trump the Basilique, by a whopping 2 feet. Take that, church folk!)