As the last afternoon of the rally rolled on, we had to make a decision - take the bus back to Toulouse and travel on from there, or take the early bus to the train station – we weighed it up - hot bus at 1 in the afternoon leaving the organization crew and friends early, or play it by ear and see what happened.
At three we were offered a lift by the Lyon crews - so no bus, no train- perfect. What we didn’t factor in was the return of the vacation crowds from the seaside – think Easter Weekend in Auckland on the Southern motorway. The motorways were jammed, and the last vestige of energy in those hot cars seemed to be reserved for road rage – principally directed at our van towing a large trailer full of rowing boats! It was so hot in the van that at one stage I considered removing all of my clothes… and when I finally decided that I was desperate enough to drink my bottle of Orangina, it was close to boiling point!
Five hours later we arrived at the rowing club and unloaded the boats, re-rigged them and put them away in the clubhouse. A pleasure just because it was a different clubhouse, and normally we are doing this job in the dark, in the wind and the rain after an autumn regatta.
Lyon is a lovely town on the banks of the Rhone and the Saone Rivers – such beautiful rivers, beautiful scenery and fabulous boat houses. Strange, but there are people in Lyon who don’t row.
We went out to dinner to a fabulous old restaurant called St Georges which is famed (amongst other things) for a desert called the Norwegian Omelet – or what we know as Bombe Alaska, the icecream in flambe’ meringue. If you are lucky enough to have a birthday when you visit the restaurant, the desert is delivered with a flourish, a rendition of Happy Birthday, and spectacular sparklers. As luck would have it, it was my birthday this year, so a desert was delivered at our table and I won an Oscar for acting. It was delicious.
Walking through the carpark building I was surprised to see an enclosed campsite – very neat and tidy, children playing, washing flapping… and was told that it was ‘homeless people’ – probably not French, probably Roma. Thought provoking.
Anyway- Sunday morning I joined the Lyon rowers for a (long) row – but first had a good look around the boat shed – fantastic facilities, including heaps of boats, ergs, a winter training pool, and fantastic shower facilities. Again with the ‘how could anyone in Lyon NOT row’ comment.
But most touching was the fact that after the row (at eleven o’clock)¸ some rowers who had been to the Canal du Midi, plus others who had simply returned from vacations elsewhere, gathered under the trees for aperitifs – out came the baguettes, the pate, cheeses, olives and wine. And each person was greeted affectionately with a kiss on both cheeks and a big hug. I love this French way of life – I love the elegance, the grace and the style. I love the gentle voices and the shoulders shrugged and the extravagance of the gestures.
We spent that evening strolling around the city, looking at the lights, exploring the traboules,(cooling off in the fountain) and drinking more panache in the hot night air. Oh, panache sounds so much more sophisticated than ‘shandy’ but that’s what it is – and it tastes good in this sort of heat.
Thank you for your hospitality Lyon, particularly to Bruno who was our host – it is a beautiful city.
And then to Milano….
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