The time has cometh. After forty-nine rather pointless, but I hope, mildly informative posts about my time here, I come to the last. For the time being anyway.
I was going to reread my entire blog before writing this, but I don’t need to. Apart from the ‘odd’ alcohol eroded night, I can pretty much remember everything. I’ve had my internal video camera jammed on record for the past year; the red light’s always been on. If I sketched out a 40 week chart on a piece of A3 paper I could quite easily fill in the gaps. Or I could simply read my blog. But how much of that is true? Continue reading “50 – Summer in Bristol”
It was a disappointing start to the weekend. On Thursday night walking through the Presqu’ile I noticed that all the bars had bands playing outside them. Some on specially constructed stages, some on old wooden pallets, some simply out on the pavement. Jazz, rock, folk, blues whirled around central Lyon and I wondered what was going on. I asked somebody who turned out to be an American on holiday.
‘La Fete de la Musique,’ he replied in a terrible Texan drawl. Continue reading “49 – One Day Music Festival”
Buoyed on by the Friday night heroics of my countrymen, I set foot towards Mt. Thou. A sweltering day of 32 degrees seems perfect for a long walk. Lyon is about 200 metres above sea level and Mt. Thou is 678. Not the Eiger; a hump in comparison, but a pleasant stroll all the same. For readers of this blog, Mt. Thou is the hump next to Mt. Verdun, the hillock I finally found and conquered a few months ago. Continue reading “48 – Mt. Thou”
Driving through Beaujolais to my class today was a dream. This wine-producing region covers an area of about 280 square miles to the north of Lyon. Or 50, 000 acres. Or the size of Madrid.
The wine is light-bodied and generally low in alcohol compared to the full-bodied Cotes du Rhone. It’s not favoured by everyone: sometimes described as the only red that thinks it’s a white. But in this instance, I’m not interested in the wine, just the scenery. My drive to the Techne factory in Morance (they make rubber sealants) is one of the highlights of my week. Continue reading “47 – Beaujolis”
There was a factual error in my last post. It read that I was in Poland for Euro 2000. I wasn’t. I was in Nottingham watching the Belgium keeper let a shot roll through his legs. My great friend Stan contacted me last week as he couldn’t understand that if I was in Poland during the Euros, why wasn’t I with him in the Mexican Restaurant in Warsaw watching the same match. What! My brain’s exploding… Continue reading “46 – World Food Fair”
The Euros are here again. Not that you can tell. There was more bunting up for the presidential elections last month than there is for the football. It says a lot about the two countries. In France politics is more important than football. In the UK, it’s the other way around. And quite right too. Continue reading “45 – The Euros”
The entire population of France must have been eating out in Lyon last night. Masses of folk gorging themselves on steaks and salads. Pizzas and pasta. Sausage and onions. All Lyonnais style and all washed down with an ocean of wine. Hundreds of children buzzing around the ancient squares of Vieux Lyon hoping their parents were too drunk to remember their bedtimes. Beggars working the busy sidewalks as serious as any job. Continue reading “44 – Beggar”