Puis-je prendre une photo?

So I did the tourist bit this weekend and visited ‘Old Lyon’ (Vieux Lyon). The category ‘old’ is intentionally broad; we visited sites from as late as the 18th century to as early as Roman times. I just spent about ten minutes trying to write about the simplistic beauty of modern architecture in contrast to the overall grandeur of older architecture*…and have gotten nowhere. So I’m going to stop trying and let the pictures (aided by a few words, naturally) speak for themselves.

*I’m not actually trying to come off as a pretentious wanker I promise.

So this is just the building that we went into to catch this train like thing to go there, and still wow.

In the train like thing, looking into the tunnel that you go through.

So Old Lyon is nice and elevated, giving you a very nice view of the rest of Lyon.

Orange square thing is Place Bellecour, the centre of the city and where I live. Yes, be jealous.

Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourvière. The outside is stunning enough, but the inside. Oh the inside. The word awesome has never applied more. Seriously mouth to floor awe-inspiring. The place sparkles! Mardi Gras floats are jealous. I’m putting the amazingly intricate detailing down to the utter boredom that consumed the lives of people who lived without television, internet, tetris, etc. These pictures are pretty terrible and definitely don’t do it justice, so google away.
















Next, the ruins of a Roman amphitheatre that has been built up a little and I am told is still in use (in the summer at least) today.



And then a sort of Roman mini-town place, complete with narrow paved streets and tiny apartments in which people still live. I got the feeling it was a very touristy area – lots of shops and restaurants.

A café that stood out on our way to the 'mini-town place'. French pride far exceeds simple patriotism.

Yes, people live here.

What is it about old bookstores that make you want to buy something...even when all the books are in French.

Cathédrale Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon. My camera died so I’ve only got a few photos and again, they’re not very good. Also couldn’t get a picture of the astronomical clock. I guess sort of strangely, it was the graffiti on the outside of the building (no picture, sorry!) that roughly translated to ‘Religion is the drug of the people.’ that reminded me that this wasn’t just a tourist attraction – but a church. And that kind of made me feel sad for Sydney - churches in Sydney have absolutely nothing on this place, no, not even that one in the city.

Next day, went to the markets with Ariane’s mum. They’re sort of like the fish markets in Sydney…only without the fish. (There might have been one stall that sold fish. Lyon is a land-locked city.) Saw Cam while we were there actually! And if you're wondering what the pram like thing in the first photo is, it's basically a bag on wheels which they use in lieu of trolleys.

Biggest thing I noticed this weekend: the French are friendly. Really friendly. Even more so when they find out you’re Australian. If the French are Alice than Australia is Wonderland for them – in both the weird and well...wonderful sense. Honestly I personally can’t even see how the 'we will spit on you and fart in you general direction' stereotype came into existence (well you know, not including the obvious Monty Python influence), but I realise that that probably has a lot to do with me speaking French (albeit badly) and being with French people.