Only Lyon

Paris and Nice are hard acts to follow, but since our arrival on Monday, Lyon has been doing its best to show off all its highlights.

In Lyon, there’s old-old-old — it was once the capitol of Gaul. And old-old— an urban center of the Middle Ages — and old — the era of the French Revolution and Napoleon. And then there’s new, of course.

On a walking tour, our itinerary featured a glimpse into one of the most unique aspects of Lyon: its over 400 traboules, secret covered passageways hidden among the old buildings that have cross-crossed the hilly streets of the old city for centuries. In the fourth century, traboules allowed people to get from their hilltop homes to the shores of the Saône River, their water supply. Later, silk makers transported their wares down the hillside to the merchants below. During WWII, traboules benefitted the French Resistance as they worked to outfox the Nazis. While some traboules are now privately owned and others lead to nowhere, anyone can open the street-front doors to many of them and enter to explore these mysterious warrens. In these dark and twisty spaces, one might discover tourists left over from years ago still trying to find an exit.

On Tuesday, we climbed zillions of steep stone steps to reach the highest point of Vieux (old-old) Lyon. As if! Really, we never considered that at all. Instead, we found the funicular that whisked us high atop to see the Basilica Notre-Dame de Fourvière, ruins of a huge Gallo-Roman amphitheater (old-old-old) and dazzling views of the city below.

On the Presqu’ile (almost an island, between the Rhône and the Saône Rivers) and on the Right Bank, we discovered pretty neighborhoods where the architecture resembles much of Paris, the buildings of pale stone festooned with intricate stone edifices and romantic wrought iron balconies.

Our Beaujolais wine tour through the hilly countryside stole the show. Every glorious vista, every little village we passed, every hillside home, was a feast for the eyes. We strolled through the medieval village of Oingt, perched on a hilltop, its golden limestone edifices bathed in sunlight. Yes, we drank some tasty wines, but for me, the oh-so-pretty region was the piece de resistance.

Lyon, you’re a city like no other.
I like you, I do! You’re a lovely place.
I’m glad we came!

Merci beaucoup for showing us a fabulous time.

But Paris and Nice? Incomparable. Ooh, la, la!