Lyon

The stop into Lyon was brief but pleasant. After some initial difficulty in finding the hostel (when faced with a decision where it’s 50/50, don’t you just hate it when you’re wrong?) I checked into what was more like a hotel than any hostel I’d seen up unto this point. The thing is that Europe is no longer truly viable for the wanderlust backpacker. The lines between what constitutes a “hostel” and a “hotel” are blurred, and I believe the Internet has something to do with it. There really is no more showing up to a town unexpected and going door to door to find a hostel. That has become incredibly impractical. The place I stayed in was nice, and for all intents and purposes, it was a hotel.

I spent much of the afternoon recuperating from the long and largely unnecessary walk to the hotel. I watched some of the first TV ever in Europe on the fancy 14’’ flat screen in my room, mostly the beginning matches of the French Open. After being tantalized by the talented Sharipova, I went downstairs to figure out if there was anything of interest in Lyon to see. There was a museum dedicated to the French Resistance that caught my fancy, but it was closed that day. It was Tuesday, almost middle of the week, and for some reason the museum was closed only on that day of the week. What crummy luck, not to mention it made me think what they had against Tuesdays.

With no sites to see and nothing really better to do, I took to wandering aimlessly around the area of my hotel. It was a quiet place, mostly neighborhoods with families. I did not know if there was a nightlife to speak of in this town, but I wasn’t really in the mood to seek it out anyway. I found a kebab store and had some dinner, then concentrated on writing out postcards to send back home. Took a cold shower upon my return, as it was incredibly balmy that night.

The next morning I awoke early, and was first in line at the post office when it opened. After fortifying myself with another kebab (they do not get old no matter how often you eat them!) I headed to the train station to begin the 2+ hour ride to Paris. I was thankful to be back in the Eurozone after my wretched financial experience in Switzerland, but knew that Paris would probably be just as pricey. Before closing this out, here are a couple of cool photos from Lyon of random artwork I found on the street and a random polar bear statue I found in the visitors center (conveniently located ~6 blocks from the train station. Go figure…)