So, this is Lyon

The flight from Montréal to Lyon Saint-Exupéry was surprisingly empty, so – equally surprisingly – I managed to get some sleep. It might not have been much and it might have been somewhat fitful, but I did manage to get some. And the plane managed to arrive at LYS without any of the misfortunes that befell its eponymous aviator, so I was equally happy with that.

Arrived in Lyon at around 11:30, sailed through customs (and never let it be said that the French are miserable – the customs official at Lyon was perhaps one of the nicest people I’ve met in a long time – found my luggage without any problems, and then made my way via metro and Rhônexpress (the local tram connection to downtown – brilliant but oh-so expensive) to meet up with Tim at the Brasserie de l’Hôtel de Ville. Managed to get there before him, so sheltered out of the rain, had a restorative coffee, and then a restorative glass or two of Côtes du Rhône with a restorative plate of effiloché de boeuf and vegetables. The drinks, the food, the coffees… all cost me less than a return ticket on the Rhônexpress.

I haven’t seen Tim in around five years – the last time was when he, his wife S and daughter L came to Ottawa for a couple of days pre-pandemic. Time, she flies. And how I love these relationships where you can just pick up where you left off. Tim and I have a lot of history together. He’s my ex-brother-in-law for one thing, and we met in 1990 when we were both in Nancy (I’ll wait while you do the mental “Nancy Boys” thing). S was away at a work conference in Paris, so we went back to their lovely apartment in the rue Alsace-Lorraine, had a couple of late afternoon drinks, and then let him take me to the restaurant next door to his house for an expensive dinner. Buggered if I can remember the name though… (Yes I can - Le Comptoir Bourguignon.) It was one of those expensive places where the chef comes out and tells you what he’s served, where the various constituent parts of the meal came from, what the cow’s name was, etc., and it was, unsurprisingly for the gastronomic capital of France, delicious. They also had this “feature” where you go down to the cellar of the restaurant to choose your bottle of wine. Well, I am all for that kind of stuff!!

Back to the apartment for yet more wine, and a long night’s sleep.