Un dimanche à Lyon

Getting up early for a train is always an exciting prospect, even on a Sunday. It reminds me of my childhood day trips to the seaside. When my heavily pregnant friend told me that she would be coming to france for a long weekend, I couldn't not take the time to catch up with her. As the journey from Provence to burgundy is a little far for a day we decided to meet half way- Lyon of course! A few chapters of my book later we were there and greeted my a bitter cold. Living in the south for a year now I had already adapted to the warmer climate and without a scarf or bonnet to keep me toasty the drop in temperature was a shock to the system.

Walking across the city to the old town I was surprised by the lack of activity even if it was a Sunday, the city was stagnant. The shops were closed of course, but with few people on the streets. Crossing the Rhône we stumbled by the quai de Saône where there Sunday market was, and apparently the entire population of Lyon. It was buzzing from fresh vegetables to fishmongers, butchers and bakers, the local produce almost rivalled Provence. The smell of choucroute created an outdoor market ambience that was welcomed in this cold grey winter.