The journey north

Lyon proved to be a very interesting place indeed for both culinary delights and the sights.After many hours driving like a Frenchman possessed, it was great to park the car and walk around for a bit. Lyon has, like many french cities, some magnificent old buildings dating back hundreds of years. This left us wondering if some of our wonderful buildings put up today, would still be around in 500 years or so. Personally I can't imagine tourists queuing to see the Michael Fowler Centre or Aotea Centre ( for you Aucklanders)hundreds of years from now and marveling at how well it has stood the test of time, world wars etc. cynical I know, but it is truly amazing to think how these massive structures were built without the technology we have today.
Enough whining, we walked into a huge cathedral (called St Georges) and started wandering aimlessly, as tourists do,checking out the stained glass and statues when it suddenly occurred to us there seemed to be lot of people in here. When the priest came out with the alter boys in tow, it became glaringly obvious mass was starting and these annoying & noisy tourists should shut up and join in or get out.We thought it prudent to exit quickly, though not so quietly as Annie's high heel boots on a marble floor was far from subtle.
Restaurants don't even think about opening till 7:30- 8pm so with an hour or so to kill we were able to browse the shops, retail shops start later and don't close till about 7:30pm. Even shopping in France is so bloody civilised.
We found a tiny restaurant that looked nice but could identify a single thing on the menu except escargot- and I really thought I should try these things. Normally we can pick certain words on a menu and get a fair idea what we were ordering, but in this case we threw caution to the wind.
Of course the waitress spoke less english than I did french, and I soldiered on ordering the escargot.The reply was a warning that they are very spicy, still I carried on. She was not wrong, these things were drowned in chilli and some sort oil & herb sauce, but with water in hand and a determination not to be a wuss, I ate all 12. Despite the chilli, the snails tasted like a handful of soil,had a strong "earthy" flavour and I wondered if maybe these ones were fresh from under the woodpile out the back!!
Main course proved more of a challenge when Annie asked what anduillette was the description was "sausage made of veal" and then drifted of into french. Sausages sounded great so we both got those.The veal was the outside bit- it was the inside that was interesting- put another way, cutting it open reminded me of my days working at the freezing works ( particularly the offal room). This was not veal.We both fought the gag reflex and ate a respectable amount,and when we got back to the hotel looked up our guide book to find we had just eaten sausages made of pork tripe and " other bits". Not sure on the other bits, but my instinct on the offal room were spot on.Some things just never quite leave you.
On the brighter side, it didn't kill me, so it can only make me stronger, wiser & able to write interesting blogs.
Next day we were on the final leg to Paris and the thought of driving in this manic city is too daunting, besides I am sick of driving (3000km+)and really wish to be a passenger for a while. We will return the mighty Peugeot back to its rightful owners (french people) at Charles De Gaulle Airport, and use the train from then on.
Lyon to Paris was big long toll road, and "Gloria"redeemed herself by taking us on the Paris ring road and straight to terminal 3 as promised, on time & without a hitch.