The Common Room

Knowing that this film has been ready for release since November has been agonizing. IMO, it qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment. But I'm hoping that wait will make watching this film that much more special. I'm encouraged by the trailers that I've seen. I'm hopeful that they stayed as true to the book as is possible when adapting a book to the screen.

While I enjoyed the last film (Order of the Phoenix) the book was just too large and jammed packed with details for them to include everything. The filmmakers really tried and I think the parts at Hogwarts and the Dept. of Mysteries were well done, but the opening and the scenes at Grimmauld Place seemed a bit fragmented. If you had never read the book, you'd have a hard time following what was going on and why they were showing you these scenes.

Anyway, there will definitely be more luscious Snape-y-ness in this one. I love this poster: Snape front and center - and doesn't he look great!?!

I just returned from the L.A. film festival and saw a very good film. A french language film called 35 Rhums (35 shots of rum). A far cry from the typical action-packed blockbuster. This was definitely an art house film. Very quiet, very subtle, but full of emotion. It's about a Father's relationship with his daughter and how they see their roles changing as they age...her into an adult and he facing growing older. If you get the chance to see it, don't miss it.



Of course the big crowds were outside the premiere of the Johnny Depp film Public Enemies that was happening across the street. Huge crowds, dressed-to-kill ticket holders, and frenzied fans...and lots of media. I'm actually looking forward to seeing that film. Not so much because of Depp, but last October when I was in Roanne, France, I met a girl from Chicago who worked as an extra in this film. She is a competitive swing dancer and she and many of her dancing friends were cast to dance in the background of a ballroom scene. She was also an extra in the movie theater when John Dillinger (Depp) comes to the cinema with the "woman in the red dress". She regaled us with lots of stories about things that happened on the set. I will be straining my eyes to try to catch her in the background...that is, if her scenes didn't end up on the cutting room floor. Oh well....that's the movie biz!

How come this never happens when I'm out in public places?









Fun stuff!

I am so pleased with how this came out and it was so easy to do!! First of all was the greatest discovery of the world's easiest tart crust. Many thanks to David Lebovitz and his awesome blog for sharing this recipe.

After that, all you do is peel and slice the apples, place in a circular pattern, sprinkle with sugar, dot with butter and into the oven it goes (400⁰ for approx. 45 minutes).  You can customize as I did: sprinkle on some cinnamon, some freshly grated nutmeg and top with an apricot glaze which is also easy.  1/2 cup of apricot jam and 2 Tablespoons of either water, rum, or brandy (I used apricot brandy).  Heat in a saucepan and brush on while the tart is still warm from the oven.  And voilà.  Friends and family will be so impressed.  It takes less than 20 minutes (not counting baking time) and it looks like you've worked all day! 

This may be very petty of me.....but one thing I just don't understand and irritates me just a little bit:

Couples that share one e-mail address.

Why? Maybe it's just me. There very well may be some of you out there that do this with your husband. Can you please explain it to me? Don't most service providers allow for several user names on one account? I guess what bothers me is the lack of individuality. I'm not trying to send secret messages to my friends or talk about someone behind their back. But sometimes you would like to send a message for just your friend to see. I'm not talking about joke e-mails or chain letter type messages but a message that is meant just for one individual that their "better-half" is more than likely not interested in nor cares about.

Whenever I send a message to a friend that shares an e-mail address with their spouse and I don't get a reply, I'm always left wondering if they ever really got the message. Did their husband read it and deem it not worthy and send it to the trash file? If they had their own address and I got no reply I wouldn't be as bothered. They made the choice themselves not to reply. But with a shared mailbox, you're always left wondering.

Am I being ridiculous?

.....yes, that's right....isn't falafel the first thing that springs to mind when thinking of Paris?? City of light, corner cafés and baguettes, 3-star Michelin restaurants, la tour Eiffel. Well, when spending only one night in this beautiful city, tough choices must be made.

( read more )
 


 

Paintings by Mary Cassett


This is for the Mothers..........

Here in California, the Santa Ana winds blew in lots of debris and hot air from the desert. We had a record breaking 90 degrees (F) on Easter Sunday. Everyone was seeking ways to cool off with this sudden temperature change. Even the local reptile population got into the act. We looked outside Sunday afternoon and found this little guy floating around in our pool.








 He seems to know how to live the good life.  Later on he managed to climb out and he scampered off into the bushes.  It was an unusual Easter Sunday!

Already the temperature has dropped considerably and we are getting back to the normal, milder climate for this time of year.  

I hope everyone enjoyed their Easter holiday as much as Mr. Lizard!

Now here's something you don't see everyday. Time Stands Still at Grand Central Station:

LOL! It would make you wonder if maybe YOU weren't going crazy. Where can I sign up to be a part of this??!! 

My son receives a baseball trophy for playing in the "Challengers League".
This wonderful organization allows all children, no matter their disability, to enjoy playing baseball.

Dear LiveJournal Friends:

The band Five for Fighting will generously donate $.40 for each time this short, beautiful video is viewed. The funding will go toward research studies to help find a cure for autism. When you have a moment, please visit the link here to watch the video and pass it along to your friends and family. They are aiming for 10,000 hits, but hopefully we can help them to surpass this goal.
God Bless!

There are some really good fan created HP/Snape videos out there on YouTube.  This one, I thought was especially clever:




 Something I have neither the time nor the talent to create, but I do enjoy watching them! 

With Thanksgiving over, it's time to get ready for Christmas. The last few years I've had difficulty making this transition.....I don't know why. It seems I don't really get into the swing of the holiday season until almost the week before and by then I am hopelessly behind. I frantically try to throw up decorations, do the shopping, the wrapping and the baking. Forget Christmas cards....I've given up on trying to do those long ago. Rather selfish of me because I do enjoy receiving them. I just can't seem to bring myself to send any....yet my loyal friends still continue to send them to me......go figure. 

I will credit my sudden Christmas spirit to watching a live performance of the Nutcracker last night. My six year old niece is taking ballet lessons and my sister invited me to see her holiday performance. I assumed that it would be a cute little holiday production with lots of 5 to 10 year old little girls doing short little dances with a winter/holiday theme. I had no idea that it was going to be the Nutcracker ballet performed by a large dance company ranging from young children to adults. This was not a professional company but a very talented group nonetheless. I was very impressed. The principal parts were played by the older members and the little children were featured in the background as mice, gingerbread men, candy canes, toy soldiers, etc. As I was being swept away by the music, I suddenly realized that I had never seen a live production of the Nutcracker before! Sure, I'd heard all the music and I'd seen several dance numbers performed on television....but I've never before seen the entire production live.

Before the show, I went backstage to help my sister organize all the excited little girls. Here are two candy canes getting their makeup done.

And here are three little "candy canes" all ready for the show.


(My niece in the center with her very ballerina-like pose)

So, maybe something as simple as this little ballet company can take credit for my sudden surge of Christmas cheer. I can't guarantee it will last, but it's a good start.

This year I'm determined to suppress my inner Ebenezer Scrooge and kick my ass into gear to get an earlier start. So starting today, December 2nd, I'm makin' a list and checkin' it twice in an effort to have a more organized, stress-free Christmas. Ack!....wish me luck!

 


My contribution to today's Thanksgiving feast.  Two apple, and one pumpkin pie.  I wish all my LJ friends in the States a blessed Thanksgiving day.  And to all my LJ friends around the world a happy and wonderful weekend.  Count your many blessings today.

I resisted as long as I could.....I've finally given in and decided to

South Park Me:

How do I began to sum up this marvelous week?

Each morning would begin with breakfast which was served from 8 - 9am. It was a serve yourself affair where coffee, orange juice, muesli, an assortment of cereals, fruit, yogurt, bread and pastries were available.

Monday morning breakfast was followed by placement exams. When applying for the school, a short written test was given over the internet and submitted with your application. Now, a short verbal interview was conducted in order to assess your speaking skills. While waiting to be called for my assessment, I was summoned to the entry and was told I had a "delivery". What?......a delivery? I walked into the foyer and was handed the most beautiful bouquet of roses.

They were from my friends Kim and Cindy with a card telling me to enjoy my stay in France.  What a sweet surprise!  Kim was my roommate many years ago during my semester in Paris.  She and I have known each other since high school.  Cindy we met in college and we have all remained friends to this day.  Although we don't see each other as often as we'd like, when we do get together, it's always a laugh-fest.  Of course, everyone at the school was convinced that I had a French boyfriend.....yeah, right.

I was placed in a mid-level class with five other people.  We had a wonderful teacher, Valerie.  She was young and enthusiastic.  She spoke very clearly but, in my opinion, didn't try to simplify any of the topics we discussed.  Each class was 3 hours a day.  In addition to our regular grammar lessons, we discussed a variety of subjects ranging from current events to France's image to tourists, French tourists abroad, immigration laws, the European Union, and cities that host Olympic games.  Each class we would work on difficult grammar exercises.  Then she would incorporate a game that was fun, but still taught some sort of lesson.  

Lunch was always buffet style.  Usually a main dish, and an assortment of salads, and possibly some leftovers from the night before....always delicious.

Cooking class would begin at 2:30.  The chef/professor was a delightful young man named Michael.  The first day I was a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cooking terms that I had never heard before.  But soon realized that so many of the words were just one of the 75 different terms that the French use for chopping something up into little pieces.  This class was a lot of fun.  We usually made three items each class.  An amuse-bouche (roughly translated: something fun for your mouth....kind of like an appetizer), a main dish, and a dessert.  Of course, we always took a wine-break at about 4:30pm.  This was a four hour class that lasted until 6:30pm.  Here is a short video of a salmon crepe we made and then we decorated our plates with a balsamic vinegar paste:

  

About a 1/2 hour before dinner, everyone would gather in the foyer to have an aperitif.  Daniel, the chef who cooked all the meals for the chateau, would ring the dinner bell promptly at 7:30pm.  Dinner was always a delicious meal complete with lively and loud conversation and lots of laughs (and wine, of course).  

There were a total of 19 guests at the chateau.  Two from England, one from Scotland, one from Australia, and the remaining 15 from the U.S.  We were all native English speakers.  I was hoping for more of an international mix but every week the mix of nationalities is very different.  Rene, the director of the school, said that this was the most Americans he has ever had at one time in one week.  But we were a diverse bunch from all over the country.  East coast to mid-West to West coast.  Every one was very friendly and interesting.  There were four that were raw beginners.  They sat at the debutante table while the rest of us sat at the main table.  One of the teachers would sit at our table each night as well to enforce the French Only rule.  

As you can see from the schedule, there was not a lot of free time.  We had one free afternoon and I decided to walk into the town of Roanne with two other ladies.  This was a three mile walk there and another three miles back.  Unlike Paris or other popular destinations, Roanne does not get inundated with foreign tourists very much.  So, when you encounter a towns person, you are somewhat of a novelty.  They were extremely friendly and eager to help out with directions or to answer your question.  We asked one lady where to find a certain street and she accompanied us five blocks just to make sure we found the correct street.  She probably went way out of her way just for us.  

I signed up for an extra one-afternoon class on wine.  The instructor was a vintner as well as an oenologist.  That is someone who has studied the science and chemistry of wine and wine making.  He was very interesting and taught us about the different regions of France that produce wine and what was unique about each.  We also learned how champagne is made, and how to properly taste wine.  This involves smelling the bouquet, examining the color, and swirling the glass to see if it has "good arms and legs".  Only after all this do you then taste it.  He was extremely knowledgeable and interesting and spoke very clearly.  I was very proud of myself for understanding everything that he was saying.   

Feeling smug about my comprehension skills after the wine class, a group of us decided to watch a French film after dinner in the t.v. room.  We watched Le Placard, a comedy with Daniel Auteuil, whom I just love.  The actors however were speaking so rapidly and using so much slang that I barely understood a word!  Luckily, one of the ladies had just watched the film a month prior with subtitles.  So she kept us up to speed on the dialog.  Otherwise, we would have been hopelessly lost.  That was a real ego-deflator.  

There was not a lot of free time in between classes so I spent most of the rest of the time exploring the grounds of the chateau.  There was a canal that ran through the property with a walking/biking path beside it.  When not doing that, I would spend the rest of my time studying with my classmates or doing homework.  Yes -- homework!  This was an educational vacation, after all.  

Well, that is an overview of my week at the chateau.  Since pictures can show you so much more than I could ever begin to write about here, I have put together a little slideshow of my week in Roanne.  Here you will see the Chateau, my room, the grounds, our excursion into the town, my French and cooking classes and around the dinner table.  Enjoy!

    

I retrieved my bags from my hotel and boarded the tram for the Part-Dieu train station.  My ticket for Roanne did not specify any particular departure time.  There are several regional trains that go from Lyon to Roanne throughout the day and my ticket was good for any one of those trains.   The school specified that we should arrive at the Chateau between 4 - 7pm on the 16th.  Leaving Lyon at 3pm would put me in Roanne within an hour.  

I found the platform and waited for my train which was to depart at 3:15.  A woman sat next to me and wanted to chat.  She asked me something very rapidly which I didn't understand.  I told her, in French, "I'm sorry, but my French is not very good".  She kind of looked at me puzzled.....probably because I can say that very well it seemed strange.  But she persisted and asked me another question, this time more slowly and clearly.  Oh!, she wanted to know where I was going!  O.K.  "I'm going to Roanne".  Again she looked at me, this time more puzzled.  So I pointed at the monitor above the platform that listed the next departing train and the various towns it stopped at along the way.  "Roanne", I said again pointing at the name which was the 5th stop on the list.  She frowned for a couple of seconds and then said "Oh, You're going to Roanne!" except she didn't pronounce it "RO-anne" but more like "Juan" with a French "r" at the beginning.  (This, I later discovered, was how all the natives pronounce it.)  She then pointed out to me that there was a train that left 10 minutes earlier on the opposite platform that also went to Roanne.  But on that train, Roanne was the first stop, rather than the fifth, and then went on to several towns after that.   I thanked her kindly for her helpfulness and took her advice and took the earlier train.  This turned out to be a blessing because, still being tired from the time change, the rhythmic clickity-clack, the warm sun through the windows and the gentle rocking motion of the train became like a hypnotic lullaby.  It was all I could do to keep my eyes open.  My biggest fear was falling asleep and missing my stop.  I had to literally slap myself a couple of times to remain conscious.  I'm sure this would have looked bizarre to anyone watching, but as I jealously looked around, everyone around me was comfortably sleeping (G-r-r-r-r!).  I tried to keep my mind busy counting the numerous white cows that grazed lazily in the green fields.  This was broken up by corn fields and quaint little towns.  I never really associated corn fields with France, but apparently, this corn is used mostly for animal feed.  Still, I was grateful knowing that the first stop would be mine.  It would have been pure torture to have to sit through five other stops before reaching my destination.  That lady must have been one of those "traveler's angels"  that watch out for hapless wanderers like me. 

Arrived at the Roanne station and set out to try and find a taxi to take me to the Chateau.  Outside the station, there was some massive road construction going on.  The street in front was all torn up and barricades were all along the road.  In the middle of all that construction was a signpost that said "Taxi" which was obviously where the taxis usually line up under normal circumstances.  Great, now what?  It was a Sunday afternoon in a small town.  Not a lot of traffic going by and the few people coming out of the train station seemed to know exactly where they needed to go.  None of them, it seemed, needed a taxi.  I decided to ask a kind looking woman that was passing by.  I asked where one might find a taxi because.....and I gestured to the lonely looking "taxi" sign sitting amongst the gravel and broken up asphalt.  "Oh, of course!" she said, "because of all the work!"  She directed me to the next intersection where just beyond the traffic circle, I'd find a parking lot where all the taxis were waiting. 

Sure enough, there was a small parking lot full of bored taxi drivers wandering around smoking or napping in their cars.  There was a young guy, parked in the shade listening to music on his radio.  I popped my head in the open window and asked, "Taxi?"  "Oui!" he replied, turning down his music.  "Where would you like to go?"  "Le Chateau de Matel" I said, "vous le connaissez?" (are you familiar with it?)  "Le marche de matelas??" he asked, puzzled ("The mattress store??").  "Non, non! LE CHAT-EAU DE MA-TEL!" I said more slowly.  (Boy, my accent must be really bad). "Oh!", he apologized, embarrassed.  He was a very nice young man.  He spoke no English, but we chatted a little bit.  He had never been to the Chateau before and nearly missed the road leading up to it.  But he found it and was very kind about retrieving my bags and bringing them right up to the front door.  That may seem like a little thing to you, but I had been hauling these bags around, up and down flights of stairs at train and metro stations for two days.  It was nice to have someone else do it for a change.

The Chateau is gorgeous.  A 17th century mansion that has been renovated to accommodate 20 guests who attend the school for language and cooking courses.  

 
Click Photo to enlarge

I was greeted by Rene, the man who runs the school.  He welcomed me warmly and gave me a brief tour of the downstairs area.  He explained how to use the all-important coffee machine, and showed me to my room.  We were all to meet downstairs at 7pm for a brief orientation and then dinner.  When we entered my room, someone had left the radiator running and the room was incredibly warm.  "Oh, la, la, la!" he exclaimed and he turned off the radiator and opened the window to let in some fresh, cool air.  It was hard to believe that as hot as it was today, that a few days earlier, it had been cold.  He left me to unwind and unpack.  Phew!  I had finally made it to where I was supposed to be for an entire week.  What a relief.  Here is my room:

 

And this is the gorgeous view from my window:
 
You might not be able to tell, but that is a pond out there.  An inspiring view.

I unpacked, called home, and rested up for about an hour.  After a while, I could hear some people gathering outside at the patio chairs below my window.
 
I decided to go downstairs and meet some of my fellow classmates with whom I will be spending the week.  I met Elsie and Wendy, two lovely ladies from Atlanta, GA and Will from Santa Ynez, CA.  Elsie and Wendy were already enjoying some wine.  We were told all we had to do was knock on the kitchen door and ask the chef for an aperitif.  Will and I decided to enjoy a Kir (white wine and creme de cassis) before dinner.  As we all got to know each other, more people began to arrive.  

At 7 o'clock, Rene gave a a tour of the grounds and the common rooms of the chateau.  He went over a few house rules and procedures and then the chef, Daniel, rang the dinner bell.  A delicious salmon dish as an appetizer, chicken breast and pasta for the main course, followed by the cheese course and a yummy chocolate dessert.  During the cheese course, Daniel the chef, came out with 5 different varieties of cheese.  We learned the name of each one, what kind of milk was used to create it (cow, goat, sheep) and how to properly cut each kind.  I learned that one should never take more than three varieties of cheese.  I'd always wondered when the cheese course was served at a restaurant, what was the appropriate amount to take.  It is also considered very rude, especially if dining at someone's home, to not finish the cheese that you take.  So choose carefully!
 
All of these delicious courses were accompanied by wine.  I was surprised that the "French Only" rule at the table was not as difficult as I'd imagined.  We were all there for the same reason....to learn French.  None of us were experts but the only thing that is expected is that you try.  What you come to realize is that everybody makes mistakes.  The goal is to get you to express yourself spontaneously.  Don't worry about verb conjugations or tenses, that's for the classroom.....just jump in there and TALK!  Well, this was my second very long day in a row.  I was happy to finally say goodnight to all my new acquaintances and snuggle up in my comfortable bed in my pretty room.  It was a very good day.
 

I woke up around 5:30am local time.  I was able to call home because it was still early enough in the evening the night before for them.  My plan for this morning is to try and attend 7 o'clock mass at Notre Dame de Fourviere, the beautiful basilica at the top of the hill overlooking the city.  Tried to re-pack and organize a few things, got dressed and was ready by 6:30am.  I was a little hesitant to leave because it was still pre-dawn, the sun had not quite risen yet and I didn't want to arrive too early and be wandering around the top of the hill all alone. I also was a little wary about crossing the park to the metro station.  I could see from my window that there were a few homeless people sleeping in the park, the vast majority of whom are harmless, but being a woman traveling alone, I decided to err on the side of caution.  I killed 10 more minutes organizing my things and finally decided, after seeing a few rays of sunlight, to just go for it.  I quickly crossed through the park.  The sleeping homeless people were, well......sleeping.  I guess I shouldn't have worried so much.  I arrived at the metro just as a train was departing.  DARN...a few seconds earlier and I would have made it.  At first I was alone on the platform but slowly, a few people came straggling in.  A muslim woman came in covered from head to toe in black veils.  She was fully covered from the bridge of her nose downward as well as her forehead and head so that the only thing exposed were her eyes.  Something like this:
courtesy of seattletimes.nwsource.com

In addition to that, she had another small veil that came down to cover her entire face so that even her eyes were not visible.  She tried to make her way from the edge of the platform to the wall were a map was posted without lifting her veil.  She nearly ran face first into a concrete pillar.  Every time she wanted to look at the metro map on the wall or peer down the tunnel to see if the train was coming, or to look at anything clearly, she had to lift her veil in order to see.  I will refrain from making any further comment.  This is merely an observation of what I witnessed. 

I had forgotten how long the time can be between trains, especially early on a Sunday morning.  One finally arrived after about 10 minutes.  From the metro, I had to transfer to the funicular in order to make it to the top of the hill.  I tried following the signs, but they seemed to direct me out into the street again.  A little confused, I stopped two women dressed in jogging clothes and proceeded to ask them in French where I might find the funicular.  They both looked at me wide-eyed and said, "Sorry!  We don't speak French."  They were both Americans out for some early morning exercise and were about to walk up the steep hill.  They weren't sure about the funicular and were debating among themselves as to whether they should take it or try to walk the hill when a couple came around the corner arm-in-arm.  Again, I excused myself in my best French and began to ask them about where the entrance to the funicular was and again I got, "Sorry!  We only speak English."  They were a couple from New Zealand who had been in town to watch the rugby match.  We all had a chuckle over this.  The woman from New Zealand however knew exactly where the entrance was and was able to direct me to it.  There was some construction work in the station and I had assumed that you could not go around a barrier that had been erected.  But once around it, I could clearly see the signs for the funicular.  The New Zealanders continued on, arm-in-arm, presumably off to breakfast and the Americans continued on foot up the hill.  Since I was wearing a skirt and some nice shoes, I opted for the funicular ride.  
 courtesy of www.waymarking.com

I sat in the lower station of the funicular for about 5 minutes before it finally started ascending the hill.  By this time I was kicking myself for not thinking ahead and allowing more for travel time.  It was now 7:20am and mass, I assumed, had already started.  Two elderly nuns were also riding up on the funicular so I felt, "Well, if they can be late for mass, then so can I."  I arrived at the Basilica at 7:25 and to my surprise, realized I had been wrong about the start time.  Mass did not begin until 7:30!  So after all that, I was actually on time.  

The Basilica was ornate and beautiful.  

The mass was a typical Catholic mass, except en Francais.  I was really expecting there to be something different about the mass, but I have to say, except for the language, it was exactly the same.  After mass, the sun was fully up and I wanted to take a picture of the city below but there was a bit of a mist and haze covering the town below.  I could still see most of the city with my eyes, but I knew the camera would not pick up any detail in this light.  

I knew the Gallo-Roman museum was close by, and I started off on foot in that direction.  Somehow, I turned one street too soon and found myself walking down Fourviere hill on foot.  Given the shoes I was wearing, this was not easy.  Very comfortable walking shoes for flat terrain but not meant for walking on cobblestone streets or uneven surfaces.  I had to slowly and gingerly make my way down this very steep hill in order not to fold my ankle over sideways (which happened a couple of times).  I paused partway down and took this picture:
 
Finally the Gods smiled down on me and part way down the hill, I came upon a shortcut.  A set of stairs that cut off the last third of the very steep hill and deposited me directly into the heart of vieux Lyon.  


 
I crossed the beautiful Saone river via the pedestrian bridge and came upon an  open air market that was set up along the riverbank.


Every type of fruit, vegetable, fish, meat, bread, or anything you may want could be purchased here.  A Sunday morning farmer's market.  I stopped at a table where a woman had a display of homemade jellies.  She gave me a few samples to taste.  All of them were delicious.  I ended up buying a small jar of homemade current jelly from a very small, local grape called sereau.  I also bought two other jellies, one infused with thyme and the other with an herb called gurs.  I still haven't figured out what that is in English, but it tastes good! The woman that sold me the jellies kept telling me to come and visit her farm.  If I had a car and enough time, I would have liked to have gone.  Here is an ad that she handed me advertising her wares:  
Her farm is called "Farm of the Gourmet Bears" and they are promoting a traveler's special.  Lavender jelly, honey and a special spread that I sampled that was a mixture of fresh milk and sugar cooked down and reduced to a spread.  It was heavenly but I figured I had enough glass jars to fit in my bags with the jelly I had already bought.  They also do baskets for special occasions.  If I ever return to Lyon, I will visit her farm.

I bought a croissant for breakfast and returned to my hotel to finish packing.

The bag was packed, I said good-bye to my compact, little room in Lyon, and made my way downstairs.  I checked out but asked if I could leave my bags behind the counter so that I could do some more sight-seeing until my train was due to leave.  The lady behind the desk was so sweet and helpful and said, "Of course!"  

This time I was determined to find the Gallo-Roman museum.  In Roman times, Lyon was called Lugdunum and was declared the capital of Roman Gaul.  The Romans recognized that with the confluence of the Rhone and Saone rivers in Lyon that this was the perfect spot for trade routes and Lugdunum was a thriving Roman settlement for over 300 years.  Don't get nervous....that's the end of the history lesson.  I've always had a fascination with ancient Rome (blame Sister Helen Rose, my latin teacher) so the remainder of my time in Lyon was spent at the Gallo-Roman museum.  There are the remains of two outdoor Roman amphitheaters and lots of artifacts and pieces of marble left over from public buildings that still have Roman inscriptions on them.  Well, since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll shut up and show you a few photos I took from the outdoor exhibits and ruins.




There were many more exhibits inside which I will not bore you with.  But the level of artistry, craftsmanship, and engineering skills of these ancient peoples is mind-boggling.  Well, time was running out and I needed to leave the museum by 2:00pm in order to grab my bags from the hotel and make my way to the train station for my next adventure in Roanne.  I reluctlantly said good-bye to Lyon and hopefully will be able to return someday and spend more time exploring her many beautiful sights.  

Some final images from Lyon:





 

Surprise of surprises, leaving the house, the trip to the airport and the flight seemed to happen as if it was a well rehearsed performance. My daughter drove me to the FlyAway terminal. A local bus service that ferries passengers to and from LAX. On the bus I sat next to a guy that made one phone call after the next on his cell phone. I mean the guy NEVER shut up. As soon as one call was complete, he'd make another. Some of it was legitimate business, but the majority of it was just bulls***t calls to anyone who would pick up their phone. I really do think some people are addicted to using their cell phones and can't go more than two minutes without trying to call someone. I was glad when he finally exited the bus.

I was a little nervous as to whether Air Tahiti Nui would let me board with both my rolling carry-on suitcase as well as my purse and a fairly substantial tote bag. It was the only way I could possibly bring everything I needed. The suitcase was bursting and I still had my books and notebooks that we were told to bring to the school. These I put into the tote bag along with my purse. I think because it was all considered "personal items", my purse and books, that it was not a problem. *Phew!* big load off my mind. Now there should be no trouble about connecting with the TGV train.

I was one of the first in my section to board the plane so finding my seat and putting my suitcase in the overhead bin was not a problem. The plane had a two-four-two seat configuration and I was on the aisle in the center group of four seats. For a long while it seemed as though I may luck out and have the entire row of four seats all to myself. But at the very last moment, three jeunes gens (young French people) boarded and took their places next to me in my row. They were probably in their 20's, two guys and a girl, and apparently, from the strong scent of coconut suntan oil, had been vacationing in Tahiti. They were talking amongst themselves and I overheard the guy next to me say quietly, "Non, elle est Americaine". His friend must have questioned whether he knew for sure because he said it again definitively, "Elle est Americaine!" He then made a derogatory personal comment about me....which I won't repeat here, so he obviously assumed that I wouldn't understand a thing. Not the best way to start off a trip, but I was determined that this little creep was not going to ruin my good time.

Much like the guy on the bus, this little bavard never stopped talking while he was awake. When he wasn't jabbering, he had his laptop out reviewing all their noisy vacation videos and pictures from Tahiti. Mercifully, he finally went to sleep. I took a perverse pleasure in seeing him sleep in a cramped position with his knees up against the seat in front of him. At mealtime, I ordered my meal with the flight attendant in French. I could sense a collective holding of breath and several sideways glances from the occupants in my row. Needless to say, their conversations were considerably quieter from that point on so that the only annoyance remaining was the lingering scent of coconuts.

Arrival and the trip through immigration was smooth and uneventful. I successfully asked for and received directions to the TGV station which was clear at the opposite end of the terminal....a healthy walk. Since I hadn't checked my bags, I was able to walk at a leisurely pace across the airport, take the time for a bathroom break and put in my contacts. By the time I made it to the TGV station, I ended up waiting only 10 to 15 minutes max before the train arrived. Had I checked my bags, this would have been cutting it too close for comfort.

The train ride from Charles De Gaulle Airport to Lyon was a smooth and quiet ride. They sure don't waste a lot of time at the platform. I boarded the train as soon as the doors opened and by the time I stowed my bags and took my seat, we were moving it seemed, within seconds.

Lyon seemed sunny and bright compared to the early morning gloom at the Paris airport. I emerged from the Lyon Part-Dieu train station to a chaotic scene of music, booths giving away free samples of what, I don't know, a D.J. doing a live radio broadcast, and these girls dressed up as Madonna-wanna-be clowns on stilts.

 

The clown girls were just reaching into their bags and throwing out heart-shaped confetti as far as I could tell.  But the big hullabaloo was over the Rugby game that was being played at the local stadium in Lyon that day.  This year France is hosting the Rugby World Cup games.  On this particular day that I arrived in Lyon, the #1 ranked team, New Zealand was playing Portugal at the Stade Gerland in Lyon.  It was a REALLY big deal.  There were signs and posters everywhere.  People were wearing Rugby jerseys to support their favorite team and there was a party atmosphere in the air.  

As much as I wanted to hang out and enjoy the festivities, I also wanted to find my hotel and get checked in.  The #1 tram had a stop just outside the station and it took me directly to the other big train station in town, Gare Parrache.  Talk about convenience, I literally stepped out of the station where the tram stopped and my hotel was RIGHT THERE!  After many hours of travel, it was a welcome relief to just have to walk a few steps to my hotel.  

I picked the Hotel Dubost for two reasons.  Location and a price that fit my budget.  Since I was only spending one night in Lyon, I didn't want to spend a lot of money.  But I also didn't want to end up in the modern, commercial district that surrounds Part-Dieu.  I preferred to be near vieux Lyon and closer to the sights that I wanted to see.  Here is my hotel:

 
Click on picture to enlarge
That's my room just above the "H".
It is a modest, little hotel that faces a park in a square.  The room was small but very clean.  And that's the most important aspect for me.  Here is my room:  

 

Click on picture to enlarge

.....and this was the view from the window looking at the park:

Except for some fitful dozing on the plane and the TGV, I had been up for approximately 22 hours.  Before leaving, I had bought a product called No Jet Lag.  I was extremely skeptical about these little white pills.  But I reluctantly decided to give them a try.  I remember at the age of 20, when one is young and in the prime of fitness, feeling totally wiped out for the first two days after a 13 hour flight to London.  This time, I landed in France and although I was tired, I still felt I could probably squeeze in a little bit of sight-seeing before turning in earlier than usual.   By gosh, the little white pills actually work!  

I set off on foot and walked to Place Bellecour.  I walked around the small streets of Vieux Lyon (old Lyon) and came upon the Theatre Guignol. 



Guignol is a famous French puppet from the 1800's. If anyone in the States used to watch  French in Action you will remember the show used to close with a vignette of Monsieur Guignol recapping the day's lesson in a silly way and beating the other characters senseless with a big stick.  Lyon is where this puppet was created and they have a theater dedicated to keeping this French treasure alive.  The theater was open for tours and there was an impromptu little performance going on.  The theater was full of children and they were having such a great time.  They were yelling out "Guignol!" and asking him questions.  I have a cute video clip, but I was probably too far away for you to make out what's going on.  But the kids yelling out to the puppet were really cute.

 

                                                                           Hundreds of Puppets Backstage            The Puppet-Master

For those interested in the video clip you can find it here.

By the time I had finished at the theater, it was 2pm and most of the cafes and restaurants had stopped serving for the afternoon.  This is, of course, about the time I start to feel hungry.  I finally happened upon a small ice cream store and had 2 boules (scoops) of ice cream.  Cafe and Cookie....yum!

I started to make my way back towards my hotel when I walked by the Palais de Justice (main courthouse).  Outside there was this HUMONGOUS line.  What I didn't realize then, but figured out later, that this particular weekend the city was also celebrating some sort of French heritage event and many public buildings and places of historical significance, like the Theatre Guignol,  were conducting special tours.  This would also explain the large number of tourists in the city.  Not foreign tourists, but French tourists.  

                                                       The Palais de Justice in the foreground.  Fouvriere Hill in the background

So I spied this line and foolishly decided, "what the hell" and got in line too.  (I'm such a lemming).  When we finally made it to the front doors, a guide told us, in French, that the tour would last 15 minutes.  "I can survive that", I thought.  "And it will be good practice for me to listen to the guide speak French".  BAH!  Well, 40 minutes later and I am in hell.  I am now trapped inside this hot, humid building as we spend about 10 minutes in each room while the guide gives a detailed and flowery description of the architecture, the history, the important past events that took place in each room as well as the mythological background of any and all statuary that might be located within.  NOT that I don't appreciate this sort of thing.  But I am now operating on 24 hours with little sleep and the combination of the heat, the stuffy rooms, and the droning voice of the guide in a language that I am only comprehending about 60% of, and I suddenly find myself unable to keep my eyes open AT ALL.  No matter how hard I try, the eyes begin to droop and the head begins to bob.  In one room we entered, I recall sitting down on a bench to listen to the next spiel when the next thing I know, I'm being awakened by a loud *SLAP* as the brochure/booklet  we were all handed slips from my hands and hits the floor with a resounding echo.  A few disapproving glances tells me that I better find some way to get out of here before I nod off again and potentially wake myself up with a loud SNORE.  

I managed to escape through a side door finally and proceeded to drag my sad carcass back towards my hotel to try and get some sleep.  When I got to my room, I felt grungy and sticky from the long flight and the humid weather in Lyon.  I decided before I was going to get into bed, I would take a quick shower.  

As crazy as this sounds, after my shower, I felt surprisingly refreshed.  I now faced the decision of whether to go to bed and say I spent my only night in Lyon sleeping, or should I try to gut it out just a few more hours and find a nice place to eat dinner.  The guts won this argument and I set out to try to find a restaurant I had read about several times over the internet called L'Entrecote.

I got a little disoriented upon exiting the metro station and made a couple of wrong turns.  But I finally found it.  What is different about L'Entrecote is that they only serve one thing.  They serve steak, but not like the typical steak-frites that one normally finds at a tourist restaurant.  What is special about their steak is the sauce.  This wonderful mustard, olive oil, garlic, and sage infused sauce that is served over thin slices of tender steak (I'm only guessing at the ingredients in the sauce by the taste).  It was, after a long day of sight seeing, a delicious meal.  To start, a crisp green salad with a vinaigrette dressing topped with walnuts.  Followed by the famous L'Entrecote steak and pommes frites and, of course, a demi-bouteille of Bordeaux.  Let's not forget about dessert!  Profiteroles of which I could only finish a third.  And finally, the cafe.  A beautiful evening dining outside on the terrace.



After this awesome meal, I managed to roll myself back to the hotel, fell into bed, and I don't remember a thing until the next morning.  I had been up for almost 30 hours.  It was the end of a very LONG DAY.   

 

 

 

Less than 24 hours to go. The bags are packed. Good God, I hope I haven't forgotten anything important. In my attempts to pack everything into a carry-on suitcase, a few thing had to be jettisoned at the last minute. The cute pair of boots I bought had to go. They were just too bulky to pack and I didn't want to wear boots on an 11 hour plane trip. So, it's just the walking shoes and a nicer pair of shoes for a more dressier outfit. The travel blanket has to stay home as well. Again...too much bulk. I've been told however that on almost all international flights, they now provide you with a clean blanket (wrapped in plastic), eyeshades, and ear plugs. It's been a long time since I've flown on a trip like this. The last time (I'm really dating myself now) was on Freddie Lakers' Skytrain where everything was ultra-budget. No blankets or pillows, or if you did find one, it had been used by God knows how many people and never cleaned. You even had to pay extra if you wanted a meal. A lousy boxed lunch at that. I still can only afford to fly coach, but I've heard good things about Air Tahiti Nui. Well, I've done all I can do. I have a feeling tomorrow might go something like this: 





(click on play button)

It's occurred to me that I really haven't divulged too many details about my trip. Yes, I'm going to France, but it's not the usual tourist type of trip. As I mentioned before, I will be landing in Paris and immediately hopping on the high speed TGV train for Lyon. I will only be in Lyon for a short time. One afternoon and evening there and will depart around 3pm the next afternoon.

My next destination will be a small town about 90 km northwest called Roanne. What is bringing me to Roanne is the Ecole des Trois Ponts (The school of Three Bridges). It is a language and cooking school that's located in a 17th Century Chateau on approximately 75 acres of beautiful park-like grounds.

Originally, I was just going to go to France for a typical vacation. But I decided one night to surf the internet for cooking schools....something fun and different to occupy some of my time while there. And lo and behold, I came across this wonderful school that combines both language courses...which I desperately need, as well as a cooking class. You can choose between Basic French Cooking, Pastry and Bread making, or a Chocolate making class. I opted for the Basic cooking course because I thought it was a good place to start and the week that it was offered fit into my schedule.

I'm looking forward to the language course because it's been so long since I was able to use the little bit of French that I learned while a student there. I'd like to brush up on those skills and maybe improve just a tiny bit. Everyone at the chateau eats dinner family-style, at one big table. They have one rule. Only French is to be spoken at the table. They have a separate beginners table where you can dine and speak whatever language you are comfortable with, but you are not part of the larger group. Teachers sit at the main table to enforce the French only rule. Hmmm....could be some awfully quiet dinners ahead. I will be at the school in Roanne for 1 week.

After my week at the school, I will then take the TGV back to Paris where I will get to spend 2 1/2 days wandering around my old stomping grounds and see some of the sights that I either didn't have time to see when I was first there, or was too young and stupid to realize that, "gee, maybe I ought to go and SEE that".

So that is a brief outline of my plans. Here is a map to give you a better idea of where I'll be.