Parc de la Tête d’Or

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

More Tête d’Or

May 16

Dear Liza,

One of the best things about having a long stay in a wonderful city like Lyon is that you can visit your favorite places more than once.

We have been back to the Parc de la Tête d’Or four times, and keep finding new things! Miniature golf. Free Range deer. Climby ropey things.

And today, we found the Buvette de l’Observitoire, where they serve all sorts of lunches, desserts, and drinks. Auntie Bridgett and I shared a ricotta chou sucré, where ricotta cheese and pistachio cream are blended together and put inside a sweet bun. SO good! I also enjoyed a cider and Grandpa Nelson had some rosé.

We also found several new ways to get lost on the way to the Orangerie, discovering a bunch of peony beds that are blooming like crazy.

There was also some crazy turtle convention going on in one of the ponds.

By the time we got home, we had walked more than five miles…. And we do this A LOT. We could walk the park every day all summer and see something different every day.

117 hectares is a lot of park!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Walking Along the Berges du Rhône

May 3

Dear Liza,

In case you are wondering, yes, there is a two day lag between the day I do something and the day I write about it. I can’t seem to get a blog written the same day I do the things! I guess I need processing time.

The other day Auntie Bridgett and I wanted to explore, and decided to go hunting for the Rhône again. We walked due west again and found Place du Maréchal Lyautey, where fellows were still playing pétanque and the fountain was spouting.

But instead of turning around, we made a sharp right turn and followed the path along the river.

This path is really three paths, at different levels. The street level has lots of traffic, and is not for us. The next one down is a bit quieter and has mostly bikes on it. And the third paved path, closest to the river, is mostly walkers. And dogs.

On this path, we were just a few yards from the Rhône River, and we saw yet another path… a dirt one that weaves in and out of the trees that grow on the banks.

I was so overcome at where we were, what we were walking beside, and how lovely it all was, that I barely noticed this super friendly Doberman dashing about like a kid just out of school. Everyone was enjoying all the dog joy she was sharing.

We continued along the river, cool and comfortable in the shade of the Plane and Cottonwood trees, until we reached Rue de Les Belges. This very busy street forms the south edge of the Parc de la Tête d’Or, that we visited the other day. There was another grand gate into the parc, a carrousel, and a monument to local men who had died in the First World War.

We were a bit winded, having come more than a mile, so we stopped for a snack bar and some water. It was time to head home, taking the route through town, to pick up some wine and ice cream… more about that later.

And of course, we ran into some more art! This statue of Joan of Arc (called Jean d’Arc in this part of the world) was sculpted in 1928 by Jean Chorel. Auntie Bridgett has become fascinated by Joan and her story, and she just keeps turning up.

We got home for dinner, and we had brought the ice cream and wine in hopes that Grandpa Nelson could enjoy some of his birthday, but no luck. He got up long enough to eat and have a glass, chat with you and the family, and head right back to bed.

Tomorrow will show improvement, I am sure.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Le Parc de la Tête d’Or

May 1

Dear Liza,

Once we had breakfast, we were ready for adventure. Grandpa Nelson had seen that the local zoo (you know he loves zoos) was at the parc just a few blocks north of us. The guidebook we had about Lyon didn’t mention it, but it looked interesting, so we wandered over.

On the way, we discovered lots of folks out selling these little bunches of flowers, called Muguettes de bois, for May Day. I bought one each for Grandpa and Bridgett, and we figured two tiny bouquets were enough to keep track of at a big park.

Since the First of May is a national holiday in France, lots and lots of people were heading to the park… families, toddlers on scoot bikes, small groups of friends… all carrying baskets, bags, even small take-away boxes from local restaurants, and blankets. I wondered what part of the park the picnic grounds were in.

It turns out, the whole park is a picnic area! It was different than in the States… no tables, barbecues, or stacked up cases of beer. No radios or other artificial music, just friends and families eating and relaxing together.

Every family on the move seemed to have a soccer ball they were slowly kicking along, scooters, or bikes. I loved how even with hundreds of people gathering, it was peaceful and quiet… less hollering parents or wailing children.

We walked through some greenhouses that protect exotic plants from Lyo ‘s cold winters, andSoon found the Zoo! Again, there were differences … the enclosures were greener, more overgrown, less tidy and raked. In other words, more like a natural habitat. Also, animals that are compatible were enclosed together. It was nice to see them hanging out!

We kept wandering and found the cafe at precisely the time I was getting hungry ( funny how that works). The cafe was right on the small lake, sheltered by Plane trees that have been here, doing just this job, for a hundred years or more.

There was also a goose who seemed to be posing for pictures on this set of steps! People would come by, their children would have a moment with the goose, and then they would part ways. It was wonderful.

Continuing through the park we saw Victorian greenhouses for the tropical plants, which varied in temperature from a bit sultry to absolutely sauna-like. We didn’t stay long, or we would have been poached!

And just about the time we were running out of energy, we had walked our way around the park and back to the entrance. Back through the neighborhood and to our apartment on Rue Cuvier.

Le Parc de la Tête d’Or is a jewel, and shame on the guidebook for leaving it out!

Love,

Grandma Judy