Hear the Lyon roar

A room in the Musee de A_____
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The last day of our life of leisure on the farm was spent by moi battling my bank to reinstate my card which they were protecting from me.

In between bouts of international banking I was able to wander the streets and see a couple of museums.  One the previous home of a wealthy patron of the arts that had a Modigliani as its centerpiece.  The second a contemporary art gallery showing lots of Cy Twombly.  He must be a great artist as I need someone to explain him to me.  They also had an attic space full of red light, smoke machine and red neon with mood music that seemed fitting for buring man.

The Modigliani called the lady in the pink blouse
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I got the softest most sensuous massage by a local therapist who came to the farm.  Then our hosts fixed us a lovely meal and we got to view their to-die-for peid-a-terre.  These guys could be on the cover of Town and Country but the gay version with so much more panache.

It was packing and departing the next morning.  Bye to our hosts and most of our group.  The TGV took Janet, Karin and I to Lyon in one hour.  I was still card useless until midday.

Lyon is the second largest French city.  Very prosperous.  Famous for gastronomic treats.  Ancient Roman ruins from when it was the capital of Roman Gaul.  A major center of silk production in the middle ages up to the revolution.  The city has two major rivers with lots of bridges. Open space and an inviting vibe.

metal cover in the street
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I hit the streets and after getting cash from the machine I immediately bought a tarte Lyonnaise.  We all met up for dinner then I wandered off as Janet made her way to Tango and Karin to rest her feet.  I found the city full of lights and late eating.