Having a ball in Lyon

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Two days ago, we came back from Morocco.

We landed in Lyon,  which we, during the years, have passed many times going to and from our
house in the Ardeche.

Every time we passed, it looked so lovely, spreading along the banks of the Rhone and the Saône - and this time, we decided to stay in the city for a few days and explore its wonders.


With Bastille day and World cup final happening on two consecutive days, our stay has almost been one, long party.



On the night of July 14, the sky above the Fourvière basilica explodes with the most fantastic fireworks and we sat together with thousands of Lyonnaise, on the banks of the Rhone river, gasping at the wonders above. 



The next morning, we went to 'Les Halles Paul Bocuse', a wonderful food market named after the local, culinary giant, where I could let my inner foodie loose among stalls run by hand-picked food merchants of the region.

We filled a bag with two beautifully crafted tarts, some pate, some bread and a bit of cheese and Michael showed me a secluded, shady cove along the Rhone, which he had discovered during his morning run.


Here we sat, having a peaceful, romantic meal before the whole city (and the whole country) had the massive build-up towards the World Cup final, where France was meeting Croatia.
When we left the bank of the Rhone, the streets were beginning to be filled with people dressed and painted up in red, white and blue, singing, dancing and making a lot of sounds, hitting the drums and blowing the vuvuzelas.




Michael went to see the match on the giant screen erected on the central Place Bellecour and he told me afterward about how fun and exciting it had been standing in the midst of a total pandemonium. (Sometimes even a little bit too exciting, when stupid youngsters threw booming firecrackers into the crowds, which began to flee in all directions)




Afterward, I joined Michael in the streets, where everybody was dancing, giving each other giant hugs and having a wonderful time.







The joyous party went on  for many hours. Late in the night, when most had settled in and the neighborhood was quiet, I could hear the occasional car coming down the street with blaring horns. Still celebrating!

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