Come Fly With Me
It was just one of those weeks when I needed to do something adventurous. I was getting a bit itchy you see, a bit restless…. All term commitments had been nicely wrapped up; I was beginning to panic about my first Christmas in 4 years without my ex-boyfriend in the picture and I felt exhausted just thinking about my holiday work load…. I needed to take intuitive, grab my life by the balls and give it a squeeze… DO SOMETHING, ANYTHING.
It all started when I was in the library last week, trying to get on with some very important work when I noticed this girl next to me combing her hair with her fingers and dropping the tufts on the floor (Ugh! It was so repulsive!). I have a thing about hair not being attached to anything anyway and the sight of this maniac mindlessly spreading her hair about the place seemed to flick the crazy switch on in my brain. I was this close to going to the college shop, buying a big pair of scissors, striding back to the study area, chopping it all off and handing her disembodied keratin strands back to her in a sealed sandwich bag…. It was then I realized it was time to take flight, not just from the library or the town… I literally needed to flee England. And that’s when I went home and booked a last minute ticket to Lyon!
What an exciting adventure this is going to be I thought. How spontaneous of me. A close friend was currently living in the French city on her year abroad and had been keen for me to visit for a while.
‘Be careful…Remember what happened to that girl in Taken’ my dear mother said as I told her I was off for a relaxing continental break. What avoid being abducted by sex traffickers? Yeah, I’ll try mother, cheers.
When we touched down in Lyon I started to make my way towards the Rhonexpress (a tram that would take me to the city centre). I was casually minding my own business walking to the departure point when this dude started outlandishly calling out to me in French. How rude I thought – slightly bewildered, kind of irritated and partially flattered that I obviously looked as though I knew where I was going. I turned round, ‘I’m not French mate, I’m English!’
Turns out he was heading into Lyon’s town centre too. What a coincidence I thought, slightly suspicious. Don’t kidnap me, don’t kidnap me. We both ended up getting a bit lost but with his French speaking skills and my sense of direction we located the departure point.
Having decided he wasn’t working for the Albanian mafia, we ended up travelling on the tram together, having a lovely chat on the way… This guy is quite charming and rather attractive I thought as we shared embarrassing stories…
When French guy and I arrived in Lyon’s city centre my friend came to meet me. ‘Who is this guy?’ she whispered. Before I could say anything French guy introduced himself and they gave each other a little kiss on each cheek. ‘OI STEADY ON’ I thought, getting a bit defensive. It suddenly occurred to me that that is how the French generally greet each other. Alas, French guy and I went our separate ways. That’s what I love about travelling alone… you never know who you’ll meet and strike a conversation with.
The city itself is a little gem. This weekend was the festival of lights, Fête des Lumières, but to be honest, festival or no festival, I would say it’s definitely worth the visit.
DO’s and Don’ts
1. DO try the local cuisine. I sampled some sails (something I never thought I’d do in a million years) and was pleasantly surprised.#
2. DON’T touch your friend’s new boyfriend’s bum…
During the weekend I was introduced to my friend’s new beau. Meeting a girl friend’s new man is always a bit daunting isn’t it? You really want to get on in case they end up getting married you are in the running to be maid of honour. The three of us went to this Christmas market where I, by mistake, after a few mulled wines, touched his bum as I was reaching out for my friends hand through the busy crowd. Cringe. Luckily it was all taken in good humour and, as my friend was as tipsy as I was, she found it hilarious. Not recommended though.
3. DON’T assume the seating on the metro is the same layout as the seating back home. Don’t you think there is nothing worse than looking like an oafish tourist in a foreign country?
When my friend and I hopped on a busy metro train I noticed a sizable gap between these two business men. But as I approached they sat tight. Hovering over the small gap, I was slightly offended they didn’t even bother to move their bags so I could sit down. How rude, you’d never get that in England I thought (suddenly feeling a bit patriotic). I tried tactic two – slowly backing up into the gap doing a little ass wiggling in the hope they would shuffle to the side and let me perch. After my third attempt was I frankly getting a bit pissed off at this behaviour… when suddenly I looked around me only to make a horrifying discovery that the rows were TWO- seaters instead of three. The gap I assumed was extra seating was in fact just an extra bit of ass room. Awwwww shiiittee!
So basically the poor guys weren’t being rude at all, in fact they were being amazingly restrained with this nutter trying to back up their trunk into their personal space. Respect to them for being so patient.
If that wasn’t embarrassing enough the train suddenly gave a jolt and I ended up sitting on one of the men’s laps. ‘Oh my god! I am so sorry’ I loudly exclaimed, sounding so quintessentially British that I didn’t even recognize my own voice. ‘My pleasure’ he whispered in a fruity French drawl. At least he got a kick out of it.
4. DON’T assume because you are in a different country it means you have a different tolerance to alcohol. Wine and pork scratchings will never be a substantial breakfast. My mate and I were in bed with a hangover by 8pm.
5. DO try and speak the language! And when coherent sentence-making fails apply well known continental exclamations.
E.g. O la la what a delightful chemise you are wearing.
OR,
Sacrebleu!!! There is no sugar in my coffee!
6. DO make an effort to talk to people.
French guy at airport, lady on the crepe stalls, a catholic priest… I had some memorable conversations.
7. DO appreciate the scenery.
I saw more beautiful people in the two days I was in Lyon then I have seen in my entire life. Even getting on the plane I observed that my fellow passengers were all so stylish, so suave, all packing a little je ne sais quoi! I can’t get over it. Why has this never been mentioned before? Not an Adidas track suit in sight. Praise the lord. I can confirm people that Lyon is the official Mecca for hotties.
Cathédrale Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon
On the last day my friend has an exam so I wondered the streets of Lyon on my lonesome. It has been such a long time since I have done something like that on my own. I checked out a museum, window shopped, had a coffee… it was fabulous!
Now I am back in Blighty I feel so much more relaxed. I should actually thank that annoying girl in the library. If she hadn’t tipped me over the edge I never would have gone to Lyon, met some lovely people, ate some cracking grub or caught up with a dear friend.
Thanks for checking in peeps.
Have a great week! x
Categories: Adventureland Cringe Factor