out + about, part ii

Okay, so Paris was a bust. I still had high hopes for the remaining two weeks of our vacation (unjustified after that final morning of dragging my loved ones around the Marche aux Puces, which yielded nothing but the certain knowledge that one day Violette will mention to someone that she used to go there as a child, with a casual smirk that will break her poor mother's heart). We made for Lyon, the only other firm destination in our plans. 

The legion of guide books we picked up on our way out of Paris promised us superior gastronomical delights in Lyon, and did it ever deliver. Yes, even with our constraints (a.k.a. Violette and Townes). Within walking distance of the Hotel Carlton we enjoyed a Japanese ramen bar, Spanish-French fusion in an industrial loft setting, a place serving nothing but bouchons (the gnocchi-like dumplings that are specific to the city), and a Brooklyn hipster-style burger joint where the French staff were super friendly and the burgers and fries were scrumptious. There were so many chocolate shops that we couldn't bring ourselves to go into a single one--we were in sugar shock from walking past the windows.

 

Lyon feels grittier than Paris, at least the parts of Paris we have been known to frequent, but it has a lot of the same shopping and is quite attractive in its way. Towering over the city is the Cathedral St-Jean, accessed by funicular metro. We went late in the day, thinking the kids would enjoy the train and not planning to see more of the church than the exterior. Once there, though, we couldn't resist a peek inside. It was stunning, especially the mosaics, which were some of the most beautiful I had ever seen. I wish the photo captured them. Violette, who had come inside with me, slid her hand into mine and became starry-eyed, the way she always does when she is lost in great beauty. I wondered what it would be like to grow up with marvels like this inhabiting her young memory. Will she build upon them?  Rebel against them? Outside, we found Townes playing with Pope John Paul II (in stone), with whom he was loth to part. He talks about him by name even now, weeks later. 

 

Our schedule was now wide open. Where to go next? What do you do with ten days, a car, and two kiddies in the middle of Europe? We considered Barcelona or Geneva, even northern Italy, but chickened out at the idea of a long drive and went to Provence instead. I was craving French antiques, and Isle-Sur-La-Sorgue has the largest collections of antiques dealers per capita in Europe, possibly the world (at least, according to Man Shops Globe). We had never spent time in Provence and figured it was oft-praised for a reason. 

It probably is, but not, we soon realized, by teetotaling couples with small children. The antiques were fantastic, though, and I did spend a lovely afternoon wandering around La Sorgue on my own. Beforehand we had lunch at Le Carré d’Herbes, seated in a garden surrounded by groups of dealers enjoying a long lunch. The weather was gorgeous and the conversations around us were lively, and it felt as though we were living a French film. Likewise, our b&b, Villa La Roque in the hamlet of Fuveau, was an idyllic Provencal setting, run by a sweet family with a nine-year-old girl who won Violette's heart, and offering the most beautiful breakfasts I think I have ever had in my life. There was a really cool aqueduct nearby.  We spent an afternoon wandering aimlessly around Aix. And that was it. After two days of trying to find attractions that would be amenable to us, a five-year-old girl, and an almost-two-year-old boy, we gave up. We were exhausted. We wanted to go home.

The road home took us through Nancy, a small-ish town with a grand town square that made a luxurious background for an evening stretch of the legs. We slept in Luxembourg, and waking to find ourselves in a land of castles and porcelain, we made a point of seeing a bit of each. It turns out that castles are perfectly suited to little boys. So many stairs and walls to climb, such nice echo chambers, and no one to mind. The land was beautiful, green and hilly in a way that was reminiscent to us of Vermont, and the fall colors made for a very pleasant day's drive.

Toward evening we stopped in Liege, Belgium for the sweet waffles which bear the town's name, and two hours later we were home, five days earlier than planned. Home and happy. We'll try again in a couple of months. Maybe not Paris again, not just yet, even if Townes has been waking up in the mornings insisting that we go to Paris TODAY!