I caught the train from Arles to Lyon today. It was quite a leisurely trip - partly because it is quite a distance, but also because it was not a particularly fast train. Arles isn't really on the direct route between Marseille and Lyon. It is a little off to the left so my options were the 4 hour slow train or to head back to Marseille and take the TGV. What with having to make a connection that would have taken about 4 hours too so I just took the one train.
I had dithered about buying a first class ticket - I deserve it after all - but decided not to bother. I had travelled 2nd class up from Marseille and that was fine. I'm glad I didn't take the more expensive option. Today's train wasn't compartments like yesterday, but standard a standard train carriage set up. The first class section was just part of the carriage separated by a clear partition with a door in it. As far as I could see the major difference was in the colour of the seats. They may have been slightly further apart in 1st class but the difference wasn't large. The biggest difference between 1st and 2nd in my carriage was a homeless man had set up house in the1st class section and he was pungent. Everyone who got into his section took one breath and then hustled over to join us in 2nd class. A conductor did wander through at one point but didn't bother doing anything - including checking if any one had a ticket.
When I got to Lyon I used the Metro to get to my lodging here. I'm not staying in a hotel. Instead I'm in a serviced apartment in Vieux Lyon - the old town section. This is in contrast the new town section which only dates from the days of the French Revolution. My apartment is in a heritage listed building that is 600 years old. This means it is a fabulous structure, but it also means the stairwell looks like this. Those steps are every bit as slippery as they look. Luckily I'm only on the 2nd floor so not too many to climb up, lugging suitcases.
I'd been sent an email with the keycode for the door and the number of my apartment, but when I got to my door I discovered my key was in a lockbox beside the apartment door. They had neglected to give me the code to that box. I called a perky young man who apologised profusely (and at length) but gave me the code. He also insisted on giving me the history of the building, which was very interesting but not at roaming mobile call rates. Apparently it was the home of a master silk weaver, with a workshop on the ground floor and a multi-storey house above for family and workers. My apartment was once the room belonging to one of the daughters of the house as it has 4 windows and glass was a luxury in those days.
Below is a picture of the entirety of my apartment, from standing in the doorway. To the right is my bathroom, complete with a washer-dryer combo. To the left is my little kitchen, with a tiny dishwasher, bar fridge, two burner stove top and microwave. If I lose my mind, I could actually cook for myself. The other photo is of the doorway itself, with rough stone walls and massive timber ceiling beams.
After putting on a load of washing (it is very sad when the chance to do laundry is exciting but clean clothes are nice to have) I went for a wander around town. I headed over a bridge into the new(er) part of town and just generally roamed around. I like Lyon a lot. It has plenty of tourists but also is clearly a prosperous city with plenty of other industries/business too. There is also a big emphasis on food, which is always pleasing.
For dinner I chose a restaurant because I liked the name. It was decorated with yellow paint and lots of drawings/figures of chickens. The name was Les Ventre Jaunes which means yellow bellies. It took me an embarassingly long amount of time to understand what that had to do with chickens.
It was a bouchon, which turns out to be a typical Lyonnaise bistro that traditionally served food to workers and lower classes. Definitely rustic rather than haute cuisine with an emphasis on sausages and offal - i.e. the cheaper cuts of meat.
For entree I had there charcuterie plate, which was enormous. It came with 6 or 7 different types of meats including a big slab of homemade terrine. It was all sitting on top of a rather tasty green salad, which was good as it was all quite rich. For main I had the andouillette, which I chose because I'd never heard of it before. The waiter was a little astonished and asked me several times if I was sure. I understood why when it came. It is a sausage made from pork intestines (chitterlings) and has quite a strong flavour. This particular version had been rolled into a large, thick sausage and my serving was two slices that had been cut from it and grilled. It came with a strongly flavoured mustard sauce. I actually liked it, but I believe it can have more pronounced flavour so perhaps I got lucky. I won't risk it again. Accompanying all this was some potatoes dauphinois, two cheesey choux pastry puffs and some mashed, spiced pumpkin. For dessert I chose faisselle - again because I had no idea what it was. It turned out to be a soft, fresh cheese rather like ricotta, which was served with a raspberry coulis. This was inoffensively good. All in all, an enjoyable meal.
You are such an adventurous eater! I would never do what you do. I have to know exactly what I am eating.
ReplyDeleteGlad it turned out so well!