Friday, 11 August 2017 to Thursday, 17 August  2017
As you may recall, Estee and Dries rolled into town yesterday but we decided to give them the day off to recover from their trip from SA as well as the copious amounts of beer and such that was consumed last night.Adri and I chilled and relaxed at home mentally preparing for Dries’ 60^th birthday celebrations scheduled for the coming weekend. And of course they will be moving home from their hotel to our apartment for such celebrations.

It was 12:30 on Saturday that Estee and Dries arrived by taxi at our apartment. We had a late breakfast, or rather lunch, of cold meats and cheese and bread… and wine. They insisted on opening the Pinot Noir they had brought along, it was past midday, so no problem.

We walked up the road to Les Halles de Lyon – Paul Bocuse, all the while chatting and catching up on lost time, there were two years of that to do. Although we had been to Les Halles before, it was pnce again a pleasure to be amongst all the great food on display and the many wonderful restaurants.

 

 

 

When Dries walked past the Maison Cellerier Restaurant he simply could not resist the huge huîtres (oysters) on offer, this was going to be a pit stop. He ordered some huîtres and a bunch of escargots (snails) and of course a pitcher of Côtes du Rhône red wine.

 

 

 

 

After drowning that oyster in its shell with freshly squeezed lemon juice, that puppy slipped effortlessly into my mouth, followed by a few chews, just to make sure it was dead and to get that divine salty taste spread evenly, and then swallowed it whole. The most wonderful sensation rushed through my mouth, down my throat and through my body. I swear I could taste the sea in my mouth, it felt like I was standing knee-deep in the surf, surrounded by the ocean. And just to make sure I was not imagining things I had another one, and of course I was still knee-deep in that ocean.

 

I chose not to partake in the escargot session, I had my fill for the day, and I was not about to slip a snail down my throat, this was a step too far for my durf en dapperheid (daring and bravery). I am not a very adventurous eater, you see. Or maybe I was just feeling sorry for those snails; they had no chance of escaping their capture, hardly a fair fight. I did however dip a piece of bread into that delicious garlic sauce. Delightful.

 

 

We then ambled on down the road to the Part Dieu Metro, bought 24 hour travel tickets and boarded the Metro to Debourg, got onto the tram and got off at Musée des Confluences Lyon. This museum, a modern architectural wonder, is situated at the point where the Saone River meets up with the Rhone on its way south. We took a walk into the museum building but decided not to go through all the displays, we were pressed for time, we needed a beer.

 

 

 

 

 

We strolled down to the point where the two rivers meet up; quite cool to see the two rivers merge. I noticed that there was a train or tram track that runs into the river at that point, not sure what that was all about. If anyone knows, please enlighten me.

 

 

 

 

We then backtracked to the onsite brasserie that had no commercially available beer in attendance, only a craft beer, you could choose between a blonde and a blanche, we chose both. What a great way to spend quality time with good friends.

 

 

 

 

After having cooled down we took the tram to Perrache and from there the Metro to Hotel de Ville (City Hall), walked around and the thirst was once again creeping up on us. We found a lovely little brasserie called La Pecherie opposite the Saone River where we had beer and wine. Adri and I by now realised we were going to have to sharpen up on our wine drinking skills, we were being outdone here.

After beer and Côtes du Rhône passed our lips we were happier than we should have been for this time of the day and decided to take the tram to Croix Rousse for supper.

 

Arriving in Croix Rousse we walked around a tad and stumbled upon a well known restaurant called Daniel and Denise, which incidentally a friend of Ashley had recommended to us.

 

 

 

 

 

Just across the road we came across Les Sept Péchés du Plateau Restaurant and settled in at their seating on the square with plenty huge trees in the vicinity and overhead. The sun by now was behind the buildings, a cool breeze was building and tugging at my collar, life was cool.

Dries ordered the menu du jour (menu of the day), which contained exactly what he craved, pork tripe followed by a crème brulee, it was apparently amazing. I could say the same for the latter but not the former. As I said before, I am not an adventurous eater, Dries is though, and he loved that tripe. I’ll take his word for it.

 

The rest of us sane people ordered salads, and they were huge. Mine had a small field’s worth of lettuce leaves in there with pieces of bacon, Emmental cheese, egg and small pieces of deep fried potatoes. Man, was that great! Estee’s salad’s main ingredient was salmon and Adri’s goat’s cheese. This lot was washed down with a few pitchers of Côtes du Rhône, the night was getting happier all the while.

Once we had finished our meal the owner brought a bottle of grappa and a bottle of what I can only imagine was a bottle of apple flavoured grappa with four large shot glasses for us to help ourselves to… and we did, all on the house. What a wonderful gesture, what a wonderful evening!

Sunday was Dries’ 60^th birthday so when we got back home we watched some golf to ensure we witness midnight and the birth of that magical hour that would officially proclaim Dries as a senior citizen, with the obvious benefits that comes with that.

Another glass of red wine was placed in my hand as I watched the clock tick… tick… ticked… over to 00:00. It was a new day, it was a new decade for Dries, he had just turned 60 and we celebrated with a raucous rendition of Happy Birthday followed by another happy glass of wine. It was wonderful to spend this special moment with good friends… We finally got to bed around 01:00 with the promise of a babelaas (hangover) hanging heavy in the air.

You can imagine my surprise when I woke up on Sunday morning feeling fresh as a daisy, or maybe rather fit as a fiddle… tired, but fit. But, today was to be the real celebration; Dries, and anyone else for that matter, only gets to see 60 once. We left after breakfast and a celebratory glass of red wine.

We went up Fourvière hill with the funicalaire, checked out the cathedral, checked out the radio tower, then walked down and around the two amphitheatres, all was still as wonderful as we left it when we were there a week back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We took the other funicular back to St Jean, took a stroll around the Cathédrale Saint-Jean-Baptiste and then we were ready for what we came for, a celebration, and can you think of a better place to initiate such other than at an Irish pub? We couldn’t so we ended up at the first Irish pub on Rue St Jean where we naturally had… beer and wine.

 

 

 

Then, up and down St Jean we strolled and ended up at the same restaurant where Adri and I had supper the last previous week. It was just before 15:00 when we ordered beer and a carafe of Cote de Rhone, the celebrations needed to start in earnest. It was past 15:00 when we felt a bit peckish so we each had a starter of some sort, with more red wine. Red wine followed red wine; it was 17:00 when we decided to move our drinking habit to another drinking hole.

 

 

The bill came and it was 30% more than what it should have been. The sign outside proclaimed that as from 15:00 it was sort of a happy hour with everything discounted by 30%. After a to and fro between Dries and the waiter and the manager they owned up to their mistake, corrected it and we were off, searching for more Irish pubs where we could spend that 30%.

And of course we found another one, partly to continue the celebration, partly to get Adri her Irish Coffee she so craved. More beer, more wine, the day was getting less sober.

 

 

 

 

 

It was early evening when we had thoughts about having dinner but, after crossing the Saone, we had to make a quick pit stop at the Diplomatico Brasserie before heading for dinner. Our waiter, a delightful young chap, frowned deeply and shook his head when Dries and Estee ordered glace (ice) with their wine. He looked questioningly at Adri and I as if he wanted us to come to his defence, but what could we do, they like their wine cold!

 

 

 

The waiter, after learning that we were from Afrique du Sud (South Africa), waxed lyrical about our country. A friend of his was working in Cape Town and loving it, and he would be joining his friend at the end of the year. He was clearly looking forward to the trip. The glace faux pas now totally forgiven, or rather forgotten, we received copious amounts of glace.

 

 

 

 

From there it was a short walk up Rue de la Monnaie where we settled in at a wonderful restaurant for our birthday supper. A red wine order was followed by the food order, none of us could resist the seafood kebab platter and that’s what we all got. The food was amazing, the wine the same, the company the same, a truly memorable experience which will linger in our minds for a long time to come.

 

 

 

 

Getting home it was not yet midnight to there was still time to finalize the 60^th celebration. We settled in for some golf on TV and, dare I say, more red wine. It was close to 01:00 when all the lights were dimmed in our abode. I think we were dimmer than those dimmed lights.

Monday morning we had Adri’s famous Spanish tortilla (omelette) with egg, bacon bits, onion and cheese. Estee and Dries would not have had such a breakfast in their hotel, or in any hotel, just as well they came to stay with us in our apartment.

By 10:30 the pair was all packed for the next part of their journey so off we strolled to the Part Dieu station from where they were to pick up their rental car from Avis.

The Avis lady looked and looked and processed and hummed and hawed for an inordinate period of time, shuffling papers from here to there and everywhere, looking intently at the screen, and then not… I could not determine whether it was her or the system that had a problem.

Everyone was getting a little edgy when she finally produced the goods with a “sign here, sign there, and here, and here…” Finally this signing ceremony came to an end with the handing over of the contract and keys, Dries had received the freedom of the city, or rather the greater Burgundy area. As you would have realized by now, Dries loves his wine, hence the reason he was heading to Burgundy, to taste this great wine region of France.

We arrived at the car in the parking garage but Dries was nowhere to be seen. I wandered around and found him wearing out his pockets, searching for that damned contract. “But I had it here just now, where could it be!” Now this of course reminded me once again of that skit by George Carlin about “losing things” which I had included in a previous blog, but here it is again.

With all the papers he had to contend with, Dries had lost the contract and in France it is seriously not recommended to drive around without the car’s papers or the contract, I suspect without either of these you would be in constant danger of being locked up. So we retraced his steps all the way back to Avis but of course we found nothing on the way that would pass as a contract.

“You lost what?!” the Avis lady asked incredulously while she was holding back a burst of laughter. Hey, these things happen! The lad next to her gave us a copy, two in fact, one in French and one in English, you know, just to make sure. Now we could perdre (lose) the contract in two languages!

With contracts safely stashed in the cubbyhole we tentatively made our way home while Dries was getting in tune with the topsy turvy driving so different from what he is used to in SA. After loading up their luggage we bid them a sad farewell, we really did appreciate the fact that they made the effort to visit us on our sabbatical. We waved on behind them, we received no wave back, we could see both Dries and Estee nervously and intently studying the GPS which would be their best friend from now on. We knew the feeling.

Tuesday morning arrived and we were already missing Estee and Dries. They will be travelling throughout the Burgundy region no doubt tasting wines and visiting wine farms, while we had to ready ourselves for our own travels during the next month or two.

On Thursday we will be leaving for Paris to stay there for eight days and I was so looking forward to meeting up with my old friend Philippe. Then it is on to Amsterdam for three weeks where we will meet up with friends Ashley and Remko and thereafter we intend to visit Steve and Marina in Slovenia. And, as suggested by them, we will rent a car, use their place as a base and travel around the selection of countries around Slovenia. We’re really looking forward to the trips in our immediate future.

And during these travels we would of course need communications and thus I started digging into the roaming options with our Orange pre-paid sims. The information on the pre-paid packages on the Orange website is really not very clear and this was proved once I got gatvol (fed up) with not finding the answers I wanted and walked down to the Orange store at the Part Dieu Shopping Centre.

And what I found was even more confusing. Even though there is supposed to be no roaming surcharges within Europe, a new EU law that came into force a short while back, the pre-paid stuff seems to have a life of its own. With the various pre-paid packages available one can only use it within France. You cannot phone a number outside France or receive calls from outside France. This seemed a bit dodgy to me but there is one package called “World” where phoning around Europe can be achieved. But, with this package you can call the world and the world can call you, but only of you are in France.

So, what I determined was that the only pre-paid package that would work for us while we travel through Europe will be the “Holiday” package which of course comes at a premium, but that’s the only way, it seems. And to top it all off, the prepaid packages available in store is different from the ones that are available on the internet…

I was advised that if we renounce our pre-paid and opt for a one year contract we could indeed use it across the whole of Europe. I subsequently also found out that it was only true for the more expensive contracts, of course. With these contracts one can phone across Europe and also, from one country to any other country in Europe, but a number in France cannot phone you if you are outside of France… or at least something like that. The guy admitted it was a bit crazy, but that’s the way it is… apparently. Hmm, maybe it is just better to get a new sim in each country, but we’ll make up this storyline as we move ahead. Confusing? Hell yes!

During the course of Wednesday Adri had started packing for Paris, it was that time again. On our last full day in Lyon we planned to go for a picnic at Parc de la Tête d’Or but we only made it as far as the Part Dieu Shopping Centre, we needed money and we needed food and it was getting late, the picnic would have to wait for another time and place.

Back at home Adri was about to start supper when she noted how lucky we had been that the gas lasted us throughout the full month. I’m not shitting you here… when she tried to fire up the gas stove there was none, it was kaput. I simply could not believe this, I simply would not believe this; the coincidence was just too chilling to comprehend.

After I fiddled with all the knobs and switched levers on and off I also had to declare “The gas is kaput”. The penne pasta went into the microwave with boiling water, the pasta sauce followed, and 20 minutes later we had a hearty olive and basilica penne pasta dish… That coincidence was still creepy; it haunted me all night long.

It was 05:30 on Thursday and it was time to travel. While I was having my first and second cup of coffee in bed Adri completed the packing process. It was 08:00 when we left, with luggage in tow, for the Part Dieu train station where our Flixbus was scheduled to depart from at 09:15. We huffed and we puffed but we finally made it with plenty of puffs to spare.

The bus ride was pleasant, actually more than pleasant. With adequate legroom, adequate wifi, adequate aircon and what not, it was really a pleasurable trip. It was 10:00 when Adri ordered me to get the snackies from the overhead luggage rack. A baguette filled with cheese, salami, tomato and gherkins made a showing, what more could one ask for?

 

 

 

 

While surfing and relaxing on the bus, with the driver making steady progress at a safe 90km/h, I booked us a rental car from Budget through rentalcars.com. In the past I have always booked directly with the rental company but somehow Budget’s web site declared there were no cars available for my requested dates, but rentalcars.com had no issue with availability… so we’ll see how this works out for us…

Anyways, I got an excellent deal for the month on a small car. After receiving confirmation emails I checked the booking online and was presented with an upgrade offer for a car less small. I accepted and received an email confirming the upgrade at an extra cost of €0.67 per day. But, as I noted previously, we’ll see how this works out for us…

During my search for a rental car I sometimes found that Europcar worked out to be the most economic. The one time I nearly completed such a booking I found out that in that particular instance insurance was not included and after adding the insurance they were the most expensive option. I am not saying Europcar is all bad, maybe this was a one-off scenario, but beware and take care when booking with those guys, make 100% sure before clicking that final button.

Arriving on the outskirts of Paris the first thing we saw, from a long way off, was the Eiffel Tower, ah yes, that old icon is always there to welcome weary travellers. And tonight the Eiffel Tower would shed its lights earlier than normal in memory of those who were sadly killed in that terrible and so unnecessary terror attack in Barcelona today.

The bus dropped us at the Bercy bus station at around 15:30 with no clear pointers of how to get to the Bercy Metro. There are hidden signs, one pointing that way, and going in that direction you get another pointing in the opposite direction. We cut that distance roughly in half and exited the glass doors. There were a few steps down to the gravel pathway; one would have expected a ramp and a cement pathway for ones luggage. We did not find any further signboards for the Metro and asking here and there we were directed in the right direction. Maybe we missed a few pointers somewhere but Bercy did not strike me as particularly tourist friendly.

And I had forgotten that some (or most?) metro stations in Paris are not particularly tourist friendly either, with no escalator or lift to assist with those pesky bags. The Bercy Metro, once we found it through a park and a few more blocks up, had a lift down one level where you buy your tickets. From there it was an uphill battle down and up stairs. Same thing at Montparnasse where we switched lines, same thing at Pernety where we had to emerge from under the ground.

But, Parisians are a very friendly people. On each occasion when Adri looked forlorn with luggage at her side, waiting for me to return from my battle with the bulge, someone would invariably offer to assist her. And so it was that Etienne assisted us with the one bag up a set of stairs and, warning that there was another set to come, offered to carry the bag all the way up that set as well. Wow, what a great guy, and he assisted us while keeping an eye on his four year old daughter he had with him. When we thanked him profusely he shrugged it off and said “Us Parisians like to make visitors feel welcome in our city”. And of course he did.

We checked into our hotel without any issue, we were tired, it was a long day. The room was small, the bathroom obviously smaller but the shower… the shower got to me, there surely must be a law against such minuteness. But, of course the room is highly comfortable and to its credit, the TV’s HDMI plug was easily accessible which enabled me to connect the AppleTV with the wifi good enough to stream Netflix.

The receptionist, who is Polish and speaks perfect English and French, I suspect Polish too, pointed us down the track to the closest Monoprix, I needed beer. We still had plenty padkos (food for the road) left so had our picnic right there in the room. Needless to say, lights-out came early.

And by the way before I did switch off the lights, and after getting to know more about that terrible terrorist attack in Barcelona today, I started venting my anger through the keys of my laptop. That expletive riddled piece is not fit for publication, but I’ll keep that anger hidden somewhere on the disk, and one day, maybe one day, I will publish it in its raw and original form.

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