Bonjour

It is 1:39 here or as the Europeans would say 13:39 and already today I feel like I have accomplished a lot. This morning after very little sleep (stupid jetlag) I had my petit dejeuner at the hotel. It was quite good. Although I poured hot cream over my cereal instead of the intended cold milk. After my ‘nuit blanche’ I decided a coffee was in order. It was quite bitter. I suppose I expected it to be sweet and fresh like the coffee we had in Mexico… sadly it was not. Although perhaps before I denounce my café drinking hopes I should give French coffee a second chance at a more refined establishment.

Late at this point I rushed out of the hotel and walked to Lyon 2. I thought it would only take me 15 minutes but unfortunately I forgot to account for the ‘getting lost factor’ that seems to be occurring a lot. On two out of two of my ventures out into the city I have succeeded in getting lost. It seems as if by sheer luck (and maybe a little savvy) I end up at my intended destination. Oh well! Make note though, the French seem to have different priorities in designing their cities and university buildings. Maybe in order to expand upon millennia old streets you have to employ a touch of creativity… or maybe it’s just a French thing to have the administration office of your university in the basement. In any case I managed to get to administration albeit a 5 minute cushion period. I have to say it’s a bit refreshing for me to be lost and late, I pride myself on an impeccable sense of direction at home. Really gets that hydrenilene going.

I managed to register and obtain my student card without too much problem. I am now insured medically, personally and residentially (all of which I am already covered by in Canada… but apparently I need to share a bit of my money with the French government too). Whilst waiting in one of various lines I also managed to make a friend. Her name is Gabriella and she comes from Sao Paulo, Brazil. It’s funny because as I asked her the default questions about where she was staying, where she was going to live, etc. she was in the same situation I was. She was staying in a hotel and was also going to be living in Residence Andre Alix and was also worried about signing in tomorrow with our busy day. We both agreed the first stop was to go to the international relations office and get our contracts and thus began our quest together.

In broken French and English (I wish I knew some Portuguese) we managed to accomplish quite a bit. We got residential insurance, made photocopies, bought tickets for and then deciphered the bus system and went into Old Lyon to see the residence. Later we agreed we would see each other tomorrow at the residence at 8:00. She was really a lovely girl. She kept coughing and when I asked her why she said she wasn’t used to the cold climate. Cold! I could have gone out with no jacket today. The French seem to agree with Gabriella though, walking around all wrapped up in their long coats and scarves! Haha. It was weird for me being in a situation where I felt so compromised and so desperate to make a friend. But we bonded over our common predicaments. I hope we can be real friends after this confusion abets. Oh in the Insurance office I also saw this girl that I had met in passing the day before. Shab I think it is. She is from London and is very nice. Hopefully we will be friends too. I will see them tomorrow.

On our bus ride up from the Presqu’ile to Old Lyon where I will be living I began noticing the many splendors of this city. Funny how the company of a friend can help ease your mind. And how a stranger can become so much like a friend in a matter of hours. Lyon really is very beautiful. Very European with small alley-like streets that twist and turn like a labyrinth through time. Grand villas on the hills look out over the city and tucked behind them peek the steeples of old churches. There are walls creeping with vines not greened yet by the spring and charming cafes on the street corners. The Residence Andre Alix itself is a series of probably 60-70’s style government buildings. There was laundry hanging out some windows and people had put their perishables on their window ledges like it was a refrigerator (haha). Not much to look at but the amazing thing is that these new-ish buildings are tucked amid ruins of red brick walls that I imagine are centuries old. Some of the admin buildings are still housed in the old buildings. I don’t have much information as to the history of this yet but more on this later.

It’s incredible, as I sit here in the library to write this I am looking out over the Rhone River. It meanders through the city calmly or probably rather the city meanders around it. I haven’t quite determined the feeling of this city yet but so far it seems to embody the serenity of its river. It feels safe. The traffic is not bad. People walk. And no one seems to be too rushed or stressed. Across the gentle river lies the Presqu’ile where I see Old apartment buildings. I still cannot believe that people get to live in their charming innards; they can look out their tall windows and gaze out over the Rhone and the red tile rooftops of the city. Beyond the apartments I know there is the centre where I got lost yesterday, where stores like Yves St. Laurent and Christian Dior operate next to the likes of the Body Shop and carts that sell crepes in squares that house old statues and have carousels. On the other side of the Presqu-ile the Saone River runs until its peaceful waters meet the Rhone’s at the south of the almost-island and join together like two lovers embarking on their honeymoon to the south of France. Beyond the Saone the land rises and this is where Old Lyon is. Where I will live. Through the library window I see the huge Byzantine style church and the metallic television tower overlooking the city. They are large and I imagine rather obtuse landmarks to some, but to the unfamiliar eye they are magical.

In the very foreground, the French people walk, bicycle and drive their tiny cars (seriously not a truck in sight). All I will say now is that with few exceptions the French are a very kind and accommodating people. And fashionable. And they don’t line up; you go into an establishment and they’re all scattered everywhere and then by some secret code that I am not yet aware of they exchange meaningful looks and the person who’s turn it is goes. They are complicated, these French… like all people… and I suppose it is unfair to stereotype but I will… eventually… not now, otherwise this will be far too long.

On that note that is all for now. Soon I will write more.

Love. Love. Love.
A bientot.
Katie

PS: I think I will make a blog when I have the chance next