The Lonely but peaceful Traveler

After such an incident last week, I was given a very calm and lovely respite during my travels this week. In this entry, I will talk about my trip to Lyon and my 80-mile bike ride to the home of the author of the “Marseillaise,” the national song of France. What memories! Continually, I am amazed by traveling and the meaning of the opportunity to visit foreign places. It is really a blessing to have the occasion and the ability to visit elsewhere and to experience what an area of the world and its people have to offer. I was not disappointed with all I saw, felt, thought and absorbed.

Epitomizing the concept of the lone traveler, I went a grand distance to visit Lyon, which is considered one of the cultural and historical capitals in France. It is a lovely city, and there is surely a great many things to explore. Unfortunately, I had six hours to squeeze in everything I could ever want to see…and wouldn’t you know it, I did a pretty good job, including Gallo-Roman ruins and a historical museum that highlighted their history, the Museum of Art, a basilica, a grand cathedral, and a tour of both rivers that ebb and flow and wind through the city. That is one aspect of the city that I loved so much; the two rivers – Rhône and Saône - glistening in the perfect sunlight, reflecting the starkly clear and radiant blue from the sky. Traversing many of the bridges, I viewed the city as if I were on a boat, sailing through the timid waters, afraid of the large civilization that grasped onto its generosity, likely without its opinion. Have you ever noticed that before…how rivers are always so docile in cities, almost as if they are afraid to show their true character?

I wish I could share everything I saw and thought in Lyon because it is truly a magnificent city, but alas, I will concentrate on only a few thoughts. I spent a good deal of time in the St. Jean Cathedral, well quite a lot of time for a cathedral, more than the usual short tour to see all the stained-glass windows, because the cathedral emoted a very different sort of ambience than many churches I have visited. Although it pains me to say this, many cathedrals that I have visited, of course beautiful and amazing, are almost cold when you enter them. The abundant beauty and intricate design of most remaining cathedrals in France are contrasted with the emptiness one almost always notices when entering the building. In this cathedral, I could feel its heartbeat, a heartbeat very closely aligned with Christ. I could feel the hearts of the believers who attended its masses and could sense that this church had experienced a revival, a revival that keeps it living rather than relegating it to a tourist site where tourists admire the windows and the art then move on. I was delightfully surprised and moved to read about the rich meaning contained in each stained glass window and a history of the enormous astronomical clock housed in this cathedral, which was constructed before 1350 A.D. Similar to the clock I saw in Besançon, but not as complex, it showed important dates and the rotating of the celestial beings.

One destination on my list was the Museum of Art, which I read was the second largest collection of original art in France, next to the Louvre. The museum was situated on a lovely square with one of the neatest fountains I have ever seen and a lovely Hotel de Ville, or City Hall (these buildings are often the most gorgeous building in any given city). Finding myself very fortunate, I arrived on a day when I did not have to pay the entrance fee, so I was able to browse original and beautiful pieces for free; always a nice little perk. One statue in particular stood out to me; I was really drawn to it. As you can see from the picture, it is a naked woman whose feet show two different arrangements. One is free and normal and the other is bound in stone. She is reaching high to the sky and her body is kind of contorted in an upward motion. I think that I was drawn to her because I saw myself in her; I saw myself as someone who is reaching forward and succeeding, but yet still has that one foot stuck in the ground, keeping me from flying away. The interesting thing is her face, and I think this is also comparable to where I am in my life right now. Her face is calm, there is no angst or fear evident in the contours but neither is it completely at peace. In my life, I have been given a sense of peace from Christ, but it is impossible to always demonstrate peace and patience and serenity. It is about finding the balance and being calm…I like that word; a word that sounds like its meaning.

Walking along the Rhone River and basking in the sunlight, I had such a delightful time just thinking; thinking about my time in France, thinking and praying for my family and friends, thinking about my future, thinking about the people around me and what their lives are like. When you are by yourself, your thoughts keep you company. I think that some people do not like that type of company, but for me, they are quite welcoming. Off to the train station and back home I went, but the memory of the city between two rivers remained.

The next day I decided to strike out on my bike and see some of the countryside, ending in Lons-le-Saunier, which is in the Franche Compté, one of the regions of France that produces some of the best cheese! With a perfect day and an early morning, I began my trip by purchasing a helmet. Yes, I gave into safety precautions, and bought a helmet. The woman who employs me suggested it in a way that meant, “You are stupid if you do not buy a helmet,” and since I do not like to be called stupid, even indirectly, I bought one. Peer pressure does work, but in this instance, it helped me to protect my head. Sure enough, I did feel much safer, amazing!

Hills, hills and more hills! I traversed so many inclines and declines; I do not even want to think about it. But the nice thing about hills is that there is always a downhill, and these hills were instantly gratifying. I went up and I came back down. It took me eight hours to go about 80 miles, which I know is not that fast, but with the hills and the large amount of miles, I was content. Plus, I was in no hurry. Don’t you just love those days when you are not in a hurry to do anything and you can simply take your time? I adore moments like that when you can just live and breathe and be thankful. There are no tasks on your plate, no schedules to which you must adhere, and no one telling you to do something different or go somewhere else.

Lons-le-Saunier itself is not much to speak of although the things I read about the city were very right; it is a nice place to spend an afternoon, which is exactly the amount of time I had to spend there. I arrived at noon and left at 4 pm. When I arrived, I visited the Office of Tourism to ask some questions about the museum, which displays all the information about Rouget de Lisle, the author of the Marseillaise, and also whether there were other things to do in this region, which I could reach by bicycle. She gave me a lovely suggestion of something 18 km from the town, a distance not usually considered formidable, but when I tried mounting by bike again, every muscle in my body, especially those in the lower regions, screamed no! So, I decided to stay and rest in the city, take a nap in a church, rest in a park, visit the museum of Rouget de Lisle and eat some cheese.

On my way to the museum, I discovered the beautiful part of the city that had escaped me when I first entered. There was a lovely grand plaza with a large statue and the small man-made geysers that explode from the ground every few seconds. People were milling about…it was a very pleasant site. I found the museum, which is housed in his former home, where he was born. Large posters displayed the historical context of the song and the man himself. Like many great artists and historical figures, he was defamed and exiled during his lifetime, relegated to loneliness and criticism. It was only until after he had died and the Marseillaise became the national song that he was honored, and his ashes were taken to a building in Paris and a large ceremony paid homage to his work.

Remembering the fact that the Franche Compté produces good cheese, I went on a search for a fromagerie and succeeded in finding a cheese merchant, which in my mind is exactly the same. The store reminded me of something one would find on State Street in Madison, only minus the cows and cheese heads…too bad J The merchant recommended a cheese for me, with which I was very pleased. It is called Polinois, and has a similar texture as Brie or Camembert, but is even more tender and delicious. There is something so interesting about going into a store like that, which is similar as going into a boulangerie/patisserie or a store where you know that this store is their life and they put all their energy into serving the tastes of people around them. I think that a study of artisan stores like this would be very interesting: how much time do they actually spend at the store, how did they become interested in cheese or bread or desserts, what is their background, do they see a lot of regulars who keep their store open or are they dependent on tourists…I am just so curious about their livelihoods, especially when they are so jolly, like the man who helped me. He was really wonderful, even joking with me when I said just a little piece, and he responded, “Ok, you want a kilo (about 2.2 lbs.)?” I love people like that; a little friendly connection during a day of solo traveling.

To sit and relax at a café in the middle of the day in a large plaza is a fascinating thing. I bought an espresso and ate my cheese and some bread and just watched people and thought to myself what a charming period of my life, what a mélange of emotions, and what a pool of opportunities. Oh, youth, the great and grand contradiction!