Finishing work and hurrying out the door of my office before anyone could ask me another thing I was more than ready and very excited for my holiday away in the Mid-South of France. Lyon was a place that I have thought about going to but as with most I did not know a lot about it and chose not to research too much into it so as to fully experience the city when I arrived. Watching the time I headed to get my nails done and pick up some bits in Bedford Town Centre before heading back to my little apartment to meet with Mr. Warehouse who was soon en route with the suitcase which by his own admission he had filled more than half of the twenty-kilo allowance EasyJet was giving us. Nevertheless we packed what I needed and double checked all our tickets and passports before settling down for a cheeky Chinese takeaway and some GBBO - The Great British Bake Off for those whom are unfamiliar is a show in which contestants slave over a hot oven in order to impress and 80-year-old and a pompous old git, and all whilst trying their best not to let their Pavlova end up on the floor. I don't know whether you can receive this in other countries such as the States or Asia, but you cannot receive in Europe, at least through the BBCiPlayer.
Anyway back to the holiday. So after getting up at about the same time I would usually be going to work (6.30am to be precise) all because Mr. Warehouse didn't want to be late for his flight. In turn after arguing about when to call the cab we arrived at London Luton Airport so damn early that our flight (that didn't take off until 11.50am) wasn't even on the board. Grabbing some breakfast and checking our hold luggage in we headed to the security. Once passed their which was smoother than other times I had flown though London Luton Airport we arrived in Departures with just over an hour and a half to spare. So i did what I knew best, headed for duty-free and Starbs. But as usual my beloved Coffee Frappuccino barely made it onto the flight and once seated and up in the air Mr. Warehouse took it upon himself to order himself a beer and a rather hefty bottle of Prosecco for his lady in waiting. Anticipating a two-and-a-bit hour flight we dug out our free papers and started reading. But no sooner had I finished my bottle of bubbly we were on our decent into Lyon. Shocked at the speed of which we travelled I soon packed things away and prepared for the barge that usually happens when a flight lands on the tarmac. No sooner than we exited the air-plane we were hit with a warm breeze and the smell of a foreign land.
Getting through customs and immigration we soon were at a sticking point as the travel money card I had got before travelling was being temperamental and after nearly four hours stuck in the airport with soaring temperatures we were more than ready to get to the hotel. So when we checked in and slotted our card through the slit in the door we were more than grateful for the super large king-sized bed, cold water in the fridge and clean areas we could relax in before getting ready for dinner. And boy did we eat dinner. Lyon, known otherwise as the gastronomical capital of France and world known for its foodie-influences we soon settled into the life of luxury, dining out three times a day and enjoying all the delicacies the city had to offer. Sadly as I write to you on my last night here in France Mr. Warehouse and I have yet to try Frogs legs and Snails, although me-thinks that this is something for the less sophisticated parts of town. And since our hotel is located just metres from International brand stores such as Cartier, Louis Vuitton and Hermes just to name a few, I doubt we will be dining at anything less than four-star. First night we dined on French styled brioche burgers with a wonderfully rich sauce and fries to rival anywhere at King Marcel, certainly a contender for my fave London burger joint Honest Burger. Later throughout the holiday we dined at typical Lyonaisse Bouchon and Restaraunt A La Traboule where I indulged myself in Beef Carpaccio and Roasted Duck Breast all washed down with a cocktail or two.
City sites have included the wonderful Place Du Jacobin which is seconds from our hotel room. A simple square surrounded by boutique shops and world-wide high end stores, it hosts an impressive water fountain, encased in marble and white stone. If you look up at the overlooking buildings you can see why it is called Place Du Jacobin as the architecture and building beauty is to be desired by anyone, especially a resident. Oh what it would be to have an apartment overlooking the city, cast-iron curly balcony and modern Parisian inspired interiors to match. Another place we visited was the Place Bellacour, again, not far from our hotel. Red Sand, Pigeons and a huge statue of a horse mid-trot; it reminded me a lot of Trafalgar Square back home in Blighty, only a lot bigger, and less busy. Throughout our stay Mr. Warehouse and I went through these two tourist attractions almost every single day, at least twice, and still were in awe of their beauty right up until the moment we leave tomorrow probably. As well as visiting these Mr. Warehouse and I have seen the La Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière, a seventeenth-century cathedral that was built with the pretence to inspire the Parisian create of Notre Dame and other European cathedral's. A sneak peek into the world of the Roman settlement here in 43bc with the Theatre et Odeon Gallo-Romain. We even had time to be dragged along a guided walking tour through the Traboules which are little residential and secret streets throughout the city leading to houses and apartments that only the locals know about. This hurt my little piggies a lot and as a result I laughed hysterically when our guide announced it was over and ran all the way to the nearest pub.
To my surprise I have done little shopping and the only thing I have bought so far for myself other than food and consumables was a silver ring etched with thirteen little diamonds round the outside from a little independent French boutique whereby no-one spoke a word of English. But that didn't bother me and as I went to pay for my items I noticed Mr. Warehouse too was at the till, anxiously awaiting the cashier to gift-wrap something. I asked what it was and he turned to me and smiled. The store owners looked at each other and back at myself and Mr. Warehouse. With broken French vs English the cashier ushered to Mr. Warehouse and then to me as if to ask if what was concealed in the little pink bag was for me. With no French vocabulary, Mr. Warehouse said Birthday and put his finger to his lips, all the while looking at me. As the staff giggled and wished me a Bon Anniversaire (Happy Birthday in French) we headed for the exit into the now 34-degree-heat. Being a jewellery store, specialising in Silver and Gold as well as accessories I wondered what it could be, however as we passed through the little stands near the door, Mr. Warehouse was keen to not let me peruse any further for fear I might buy the same. Sneaky man! Very sneaky man! And so sly and stealthy. If I hadn't been paying attention I don't think I would have ever known he had bought something until we were outside the shop. Hmmm, only a matter of weeks before I know what it was he purchased! And as if that wasn't romantic enough we spent that evening cruising along the Saone and Rhone rivers by the light of the huge moon and glistening lights of the city.
And so on our last day of our holiday in Lyon, Mr. Warehouse and I are more than ready to go back home. We need rain! I loved the holiday but I will be the first to admit that the weather has been so very, very hot. Every single day we have been here has averaged between 32 and 36 degrees and all with no breeze. Tomorrow it is very likely to rain here but as our flight is at 2.55pm we will probably get that in about three-days over in England. I can handle heat, but this was way too much! Mr. Warehouse and I are already budgeting and planning for our next adventure. Maybe over Christmas we will head to another European city, Copenhagen, Belfast, Dublin, Lille, Berlin - Who knows. But as for our next Sunshine holiday ... Definitely in order for the same weather, just maybe a sea and sand instead of city-living. Although I must say, this is probably the best way to spend a Bank Holiday!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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