Read Part Two

Ooh la la Lyon! I awakened this morning to find my current home, the River Royale, moored on the River Roane in the city of Lyon. At 7:30 the city known as 'little Paris' is wide awake and readying for the workday. After another delicious buffet breakfast, I load up my backpack, grab my jacket, sunglasses and my vox box. It's a small transmitter with earpiece worn in order to perfectly hear each word a guide murmurs, making it a wonderful way to learn yet allowing the freedom to walk at your own pace, not having to surround the guide or strain to hear. 

We board the buses for our first stop, the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourviere, perched on a hilltop high above the city. This church was originally built as a bribe to God to save the people from the plague. It is a stunning example of Romanesque, Byzantine, Renaissance and several other types of architecture. Upon exiting, we are treated to a miraculous view of the entire city far below just shimmering through an early morning haze. A quick cappuccino at the outdoor cafe lets me truly breathe in the view.

Then, a quick drive back down the hill for a tour of Old Town and traboules or what I like to call 'super secret passageways.' Ever so often you see doors that when pushed open reveal a long hallway (good news is they have light switches) that you can walk through until it opens up to an interior courtyard. Continue on down the hall and exit a similar door but in an entirely different part of town. After an hour of sightseeing we are given the option of being dropped off in Bellecour Square for some self-guided exploration or going back to ship for an afternoon at leisure.
 
Eight of us opt for the square. On the top of our list is finding an outdoor cafe for lunch and laughs (and boy do we laugh). With none of us the least bit fluent in French, hilarity ensues.  We find a quaint side street similar to Little Italy in NYC and the restaurant Les Trois Cochons or The Three Pigs and we decide this is the place. Hey, maybe we can grab some East Carolina BBQ. 

All of us are determined to have an authentic experience and throw caution to the wind. With a menu entirely in French and a waiter who knew two words of English ('it's good') we took our turns ordering. Luckily, through sign language or charades, we were able to stay away from the pig's ears and pig's feet but I must say that when the huge blue pot was set in front of me, I sent up a little prayer "please don't let there be a pig's head under that cover." Lucky for me there wasn't.

I had a wonderful meal of at least three dozen steamed mussels with curry. One of our party went the safe route (Ken, you know it was you) and ordered French onion soup and pommes frites (French fries). My friend Linda ended up with salami arranged in a rosette pattern on a plate with two large triangles of what we thought was cheese but was actually butter. Another friend ended up with pig stomach, which we did not realize until he had eaten every bite.  When in France, right? It was a fabulous experience and one we'll all be talking about for many years to come.

Read River Cruising in France, Part Four