If we go to a large metropolitan area on the motorcycle, we have rules. We always stay on the outskirts of the city, preferably somewhere on a public transportation line. Buses and trains are comfortable, safe, efficient, and inexpensive. Another must is security for the motorcycle.
Our hotel gave us a room on the main floor. The bike was able to be chained and secured right in front of our room and the office. Toss the cloak of invisibility over it. Done. It’s safe almost everywhere but the UK. Nothing is safe over there.
We woke up early and stood in the rain waiting for the bus. I never said our choices were perfect, did I?
We were headed to the last stop on the line in the historic area. It was still raining, so we walked to the nearest café. We ordered a couple of cappuccinos and two chocolate croissants.
It’s France. What? No pastries? Of course not! It’s France.
The rain eventually let up, and it turned into a great day for walking. The first thing we wanted to see was the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière. It sat perched high above Lyon, looking down over the city.
As we were reading about walking up the 10 million steps—not really, but it may as well have been with our bum legs—we were seriously considering not trekking up. Then we found out there was a funicular that would take us all the way to the top.
You could buy a one-day public transportation pass that included the funicular.
Done.
The Basilica was amazing, as usual. So much beauty and waste in the name of religion. Something I still fail to understand.
We entered, and there was a service going on. Taking a seat, we watched as the priest went through his paces. Then came communion.
Unfortunately, we weren’t able to share the wine.
Also at the top of the hill was a remarkably intact Roman amphitheater. I found it very interesting that both structures shared the top of the hill. And the amphitheater was still in use.
The day we were there, they were setting up for a play that evening. Those performances are always quite a sight. We attended a concert in a very old amphitheater in Plovdiv, Bulgaria, several years ago. First, we had a drink at the top overlooking the coliseum. Later that evening, we returned for the concert.
The acoustics were incredible.
After riding the funicular back down, we walked through the old town, had a beer in an Irish pub, and started looking for a place for lunch.
But €30 for lunch?
No can do.
We kept walking.
While continuing on our leisurely stroll along the Rhône River, we heard a lone saxophone wailing some sad jazz. Searching for the source, we found a hot dog restaurant.
Maybe “restaurant” is a stretch.
It was a small, narrow place with only three high-top chairs. The owner spoke English, which is rare in France. They just don’t want to speak English. Probably still upset about what happened 80 or so years ago when they were saved.
We ordered a couple of hot dogs—all the way—a beer and a Coke. All with one stipulation: the owner had to entertain us while we ate.
It ended up being a lovely lunch.
We had one last stop before heading back to the bus: Place Bellecour.
This enormous pedestrian-only square was built in the 18th century and covers more than 62,000 square meters. That’s a whole lot of walking space—which, by this point in the day, our bum legs were beginning to question.
Standing proudly in the center is a striking bronze equestrian statue of King Louis XIV, created by sculptor François-Frédéric Lemot.
It was a fitting final stop in Lyon before catching the bus back to our hotel, our motorcycle, and the next adventure.
Lyon was a great addition to the trip.
Next stop: Switzerland.
But that’s for next time.
Cheers,
2WANDRRs
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