Getting up with the Birds: Lac Léman to Lyon to Lille
It is a very early morning. Dark and quiet. The French have a saying: Je me suis levé avec les oiseaux! or “I got up with the birds!” And so, I did.
The lobby downstairs is dimly lit and vacant. Assured they were open 24 hours, I peek around the corner and find the drowsy, droopy-haired, dark-night-of-the-soul front desk clerk. Keeping French conversation as simple and direct as our foggy pre-dawn brains will allow, we settle the bill. 208,50 Euros for three nights is very good.
The path to the train station takes me straight through the pedestrian streets I wandered during my days in Thonon-les-Bains, right past where I sat each afternoon for a double café near the old man and his dog. Lit and vacant, there is a sparkling beauty to the clean, silent, twisting streets. Overhead, the moon shines through thinly spread clouds.
The station is not open. An outdoor digital monitor lists the departures. Lyon Part Dieu départ à 5:11 Quai B.
Quai A is the platform right next to the train station. Getting to Quai B requires going over the tracks. There is a tiny paper sign indicating a detour to Quai B. A handful of us follow the circuitous route through tied, flapping plastic tunnels common to construction sites in cities. It’s a good thing I wasn’t cutting it close with this train.
The Rail Planner App on my phone gave me the information for the train to Lyon. Looking further, I saw a TGV departure at 2:00 pm from Lyon to Lille. In person at the station, I will need to purchase a seat reservation. Tomorrow morning, I have a Eurostar Ticket from Lille for London, so I will board the train even if I don’t have a seat. It’s a long trip for hovering around the exit doors, so I hope I’ll be able to get a reservation.
Crossing France in a day may seem simple, but the Hexagon is quite large, 212,935 square miles (551,500 square kilometers), just a little smaller than Texas (268,597 square miles). Lyon is about 124 miles (200 kilometers) from Thonon-les-Bains and Lille is about 430 miles (691 kilometers) from Lyon, so it’s a long travel day covering a good amount of the country.
The sun is just coming up when the train arrives at Lyon Part-Dieu. I misheard the name at first. I thought it was Lyon Part-Deux, or the second Gare de Lyon, the first being in Paris. However, the name is actually Lyon Part-Dieu or “Property of God” and is named after the Part-Dieu area of Lyon where the station resides.
The o’dark thirty train ride offers little to see, however, the sun begins to rose the edges of the sky as we arrive in Lyon.
Immediately, I go to the SNCF (iron path society of France) offices and take a number to speak with a representative about a seat reservation for Lille. Again, it is odd that I would try to do this on the same day of travel and the trains are completely full, however, by what can only be the mercy of God, there is one seat available on the TGV train to Lille that leaves at 11:00 am. I would have preferred a little more time in Lyon, but I am not going to argue with this good fortune. I buy the reservation and head out of the building at 8:30 am for a speed walk to Vieux Lyon and a little petit déjeuner.
The third largest city in France, Paris is first and Marseille second, Lyon is a city of two rivers, the Rhône and the Saône, and where they converge is an area of art museums and parks called La Confluence. It is known for its gastronomy, Roman ruins, silk, and the invention of cinema. The appropriately named Lumière Brothers of Lyon were the first to project moving pictures for paying audiences in 1895.
After directions from two young women who make it very clear that it is far to walk, I press through the urban streets whose drivers have a hazardous disregard for pedestrian traffic signals and soon cross a bridge: Le Pont Wilson over the Rhône River.
Across the river are domed spires and I walk toward them to find out more. They belong to the Hôtel-Dieu de Lyon, once a hospital, the historic buildings are now under construction to become a hotel. In the surrounding narrow streets where stores and cafés are tightly packed, there is a little place called Louise Café right near the little Hôtel-Dieu chapel. A plaque on the building informs that the café is in honor of the poetess Louise Labé who lived there in the 16th century. She was unconventional, wearing men’s clothing, excelling in archery and horsemanship, and participating in tournament jousts and possibly even in battles. The plaque titles her la Belle Cordière or “the beautiful ropemaker.”
The twist of streets emerge into a huge open space: la Place Bellecour. At its center is a Statue of King Louis XIV on a horse.
From here, I can see the old town at last. Like a ship sailing a wave from the sky, La Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière shines high above Lyon as if the morning sun rose for the purpose of lighting its golden columns. The site of the old Roman forum, its name comes from Forum-Vieux. There is a resident children’s choir, Les Petits Chanteurs de Saint-Marc, I would like to hear one day.
There is another bridge across the Saône and as I near it, I see a man frozen in amazement at his view of Vieux Lyon. Is this his first time in his boyhood home after many years and he wasn’t sure he’d ever see it again? Is this where he fell in love? Or has he always dreamed of coming to Lyon and is seeing it with his own eyes at last? All I know is that Lyon’s importance to him can be felt so powerfully that I do my best to keep a distance, cross the street, to respect his very personal moment.
The view up the Saône River from the bridge is stunning with its old buildings and there is a beautiful little riverfront church called Église Saint-Georges de Lyon. There is a lovely pedestrian bridge crossing the river to the church.
In Vieux-Lyon, I walk the old streets to find a place for a simple breakfast. Café 203. I sit outside and watch the river while sipping rich coffee and eating a croissant with jam. I make the waiter smile when I express delight in the simplicity of le petit déjeuner by saying: C’est ça, ça va.
It would be wonderful to go up the hill, to explore the Roman ruins, to hike to the beautiful cathedral, look at its ornate ceilings, and perhaps see Mont Blanc from the top of the hill, very possible on such a clear day. However, I will have to power walk to return in time for the train.
It takes longer to get back. About twice as long. Somehow, I get out of alignment with the train station. I ask people I pass if they know the right direction. Apparently, it’s not too much further and I’m glad for the encouragement. Tout droit, straight ahead, they keep saying. One woman walks with me, commenting that I walk so fast. She is amazed that I’m from Alaska and I find that I can’t resist slowing down to speak with her even though I risk missing the train. We have a lengthy conversation at a brisk pace. Such a friendly woman!
At last, I find the entrance to Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu. I look at the digital board for the train platform number and head straight there without hesitation. It’s a big station. I’m not sure I’m going the right way or if I’ll even make it. I don’t even have time to check the time. There it is. The train to Lille. Yes, the digital sign next to it says Lille. I board, match the seat number to my reservation ticket, put my backpack overhead, and sit down. Whew. The train begins to move. I made it with only two minutes to spare.
In two and a half hours, I’ll be in the northwest of France, a completely different world. The architecture will be Flemish, like Belgium. Stepped gables, red brick, ornate scalloped designs, high clock towers, long windows with curling ornamentation, thin tight-packed buildings.
I arrived briefly in Lille en route to Paris from Brussels a few years ago. I remember having a much-loved moules frites in a restaurant across the street from the station. Arriving at 2:30 pm, I’ll have the opportunity to walk around, see more of the city, and find a place to stay for the night.
I sleep on the train. When it arrives in Lille, the sky is gray. Emerging from the station, I am surprised to discover a huge, people-filled city. There is something going on in Lille. I never find out what, so maybe there is always something going on in Lille because it is a major transportation hub for the Eurostar among other things. There are people everywhere and each hotel I query has the same story. No vacancies. I meet other travelers who are looking for accommodation as well, two girls from the Netherlands.
As I walk, the twisting streets emerge again and again into grand, enormous squares flowing with people, bicycles, and circles of cobblestones surrounded by fancy buildings, jutting clock towers, and gray statues.
At last, I find a room at the Hotel Ibis next to the train station. It is a bustling place, feeling more like a youth hostel than a hotel, however, it has everything I need for the night and I’m relieved to find a room.
I have dinner at the same restaurant as seven years ago: Le Flandre. And the same man, who must be the owner, takes my order. He is friendly with the customers, greeting all warmly. Yet there is an edge. It feels like times have not been good for the restaurant near the train station. Or maybe it’s that the mass of tourists and the cultural change that tourism brings begins to wear. I don’t know. Some locals come in and they sit together at a table, bantering and laughing with the owner and I can imagine them all as boys together in school.
Tomorrow, I’m taking the Eurostar to London to see my young adult son who is studying for a Master’s Degree in violin performance at the Royal College of Music. He’s only been in London a month, so it’s all still new to him. He is renting an attic room in a many-storied house in West Dulwich and they’ve agreed to allow me to stay in a guest room for a few days.
I wake in the dark hours before dawn. Impossibly, I’m too early arriving at the train station. I find a little London-styled pub for le petit déjeuner before getting into line to go through security for the international train. I have to take out my laptop, which means a bit of unpacking and repacking, but all goes well and there is plenty of time to get everything sorted out before boarding the train. We’re all in a big waiting room. All around me people speak to each other in French and something unexpected happens. A soft glow settles over everything and all the words come through and I understand.
The Eurostar is very fast and its dizzying rhythm puts me to sleep. I wake when it is near Calais and glimpse the coast of France before the train goes underwater. I wake again when it reemerges at the coast of England. Roughly an hour and a half after departure, I arrive at London St. Pancras and find my son.
After five days eating in pubs, sitting with the choir during Westminster Abbey Evensong, going to a play, my son meeting a young teacher and asking her out on a date during a ghost walk, standing in the grand Medieval courtyard of Guildhall, breakfast at Speedy’s, exploring the Royal Observatory, standing on the Prime Meridian and the deck of the Cutter Sark: the fastest ship on the sea in its day, and pondering that mass may be the way to interact with things outside our five senses, I board the Eurostar once again, teary-eyed as always when saying goodbye to my son, and return to Lille.
It’s pouring rain when the train arrives at Lille Europe. Morning yet, I find my way to the SNCF offices for the reservation to my next destination only to discover that this time fortune has not held. It is school holiday time. Everyone and his lap dog is traveling. The best I can do is a dark of morning departure the next day that takes me through Paris where I’ll change trains at two different stations with just an hour between. Possible as long as there are no delays.
When I walked in Lille the week before, I saw an old hotel that looked inviting next to a cathedral: L’Église Catholique Saint-Maurice à Lille. I slog through the rain to the narrow street of the brick, lamp-lit Hôtel Brueghel. As soon as I step in, it feels like an older time in northern France. It is very much the place for the locals. No one speaks English at all. Thankfully, they do have a room. 90 Euros for one night, a very good rate for Lille. I’m handed a large, old school key and shown the tiny elevator, only big enough for two people, maybe. It has glass walls, so you have a view as you travel up. It’s fascinating.
Although it is raining, I decide to explore the twisting streets of the city, stopping for a patisserie in an inviting boulangerie, finding a winding Passages des Arts full of galleries, watching someone prepare bread at a big window, and at last, having a lovely dinner at a creperie: Le Repaire du Lion.
As soon as I open the door, after a damp and windy day, I feel warm. The tables are set, four people each, with mugs at the ready for cider. It is empty, so I wonder if I’m coming at the wrong time, but the waitress greets me warmly and shows me a table. We have a long conversation in French. She’s travelled to Toronto, Canada and loves other cultures. She’s from the Languedoc region of France and is surprised that I know where it is. I hope to visit; there’s a vineyard château I’d like to see near Narbonne.
The rich buckwheat four-cheese flour crêpes and the strong, soothing, Breton cider in an earthenware bowl are delicious and warming. The French region of Brittany in the extreme west is home to 600 varieties of apples. The menu goes into detail about this history and the health benefits of Breton cider, which is rich in antioxidants, and vitamins. The ciders have varying degrees of alcohol as well, so it is a powerful drink in more than one way.
There are many cobbled twisting streets in Lille. It is easy to get lost, but I find my way back to the old church and the brick hotel with its warm lamps and tiny glass elevator. Once again, I will be getting up with the birds.
Next France for Two Months: Navigating to Avignon
This is #8 in a series of stories: France for Two Months. Follow the links below to read the other parts of the series starting with the first:
1. Santa Fe Depot Departure
2. Return to the Great Lady
3. Shakespeare and Company Bookstore
4. Paris Stroll
5. Paris – des heures exquises
6. Train to Thonon-les-Bains
7. Château de Ripaille