Falling in Love with Lyon

May 28

Dear Liza,

I’m no spring chicken anymore, and I thought Summer romances were a thing of the past. But Lyon has pulled me in.

It didn’t happen all at once. There were jet-lagged misunderstandings, missed clues, and disappointments.

But once we got better at listening to each other, Lyon began to charm me.

“Do you like parks?” She asked. “Come see the Parc de la Tête d’Or. Come on May Day, when everyone is celebrating and out with their families.” So I did, and saw Lyon at play. Scooters, soccer balls, roller blades, bikes. Dads lifting toddlers up to touch tree leaves, Moms in earnest conversation with infants, brothers teaching brothers how to do wheelies.

Lakes, a zoo, cafes, wide open spaces, intimate woodsy grottos, two tiny trains, boats and cars for kids to drive, free range deer … It all just made me swoon.

“Do you like art?” She whispered. “Come to the Musée des Beaux Arts, or walk up to the Croix-Rouge neighborhood to see the giant murals. Stand and feel the power of Bertholdi’s fountain in the Place Terreaux, and enjoy the graffiti at the skate parks along the rivers.”

“Are you nervous about being new at French?” She asked, and showed me historical plaques in English and French, to help me learn. I met shop people who added their broken English to my broken French to make a whole conversation. I found that a nod, a smile and a “Bonjour” could make an elderly lady smile at the Parc. And I found I could give directions to someone even more clueless than me.

“Do you like food?” She asked, knowing the answer before I spoke, as my eyes gazed through every patisserie window. “Come to the markets on Wednesday and Saturday, and let Evie pick you out some strawberries that burst in your mouth. Come to Halles de Paul Bocuse and feast on the terrines, cheeses, and sausages. Come to Le Coq en Pâte and have the perfect two-hour lunch.”

“Do you like really good public transit?” She asked, taking a chance on a very non-romantic subject. “Explore the city, even the suburbs, on the Metro, trams, and funiculars. Do some honest walking and fall in love with your quads again.”

And I am hooked. Oh, I know she’s not perfect, what city is? Her streets get fouled by everyone’s dogs, her narrow streets can become sound-canyons when motorcycles or trucks rumble through. And way, way too many people smoke.

But, seriously, Lyon is wonderful. We leave tomorrow, but if she’ll wait for me, I promise I’ll be back.

Love,

Grandma Judy