When we first walked in the door of our apartment in Lyon, I may have done a little wee. It’s the kind of apartment that my house dreams are made of. If we weren’t faffing around the world and spending money staying at other people’s houses, actually, scrap that, even if we were working, being responsible and not faffing, we’d still never be able to afford this. It’s so beautiful, so, so, so beautiful. It makes me want to dance naked and perhaps tribally (not sure why as this is not the interior theme) around their designer lighting.

When we managed to tear ourselves away from the apartment, we went to the Musee Gadagne for lunch. Recommended by the apartment’s owners (did I mention they were away and we had it to ourselves for the weekend?), it was confirmation that Lyon truly is the gastronomic capital of France. After lunch, we spent a good two hours trying to find a pastry shop I had been in five years earlier. Going on ‘it was on the right hand side of the street’ you can probably guess we didn’t find it. As a result of various vague memories throughout our travels, we are now trying write down the great places we find, so as of today, you’ll will be reading names of places rather than ambiguous descriptions. How exciting. Seeing as though we couldn’t find the afore mentioned pastry place, we went to another recommended place, an ice cream shop called Terre Adelice. Oh my word, the flavours, they were magnificent. Dill anyone? Basil? Rhubarb?

Day two consisted of breakfast on the balcony, then going to THE foodie destination in Lyon; Les Halles Paul Bouchon. It’s pure food porn. Sève, the chocolatier, is amazing. So amazing they tell you not to put your grubby fingers over their pristine glass. We then walked through the food and art markets on Qaui St-Antoine and Luke watched me devour a baguette and the most expensive slice of cheese in the world. Another lesson we have yet to learn is not to spend three fucking hours walking to places i.e a shop with a chocolate wall that will mostly likely be closed on a Sunday. Yes, it sounds good in theory but when most places in Lyon are closed because a. it’s summer and b. it’s a Sunday, chances of success aren’t great. Then, when you actually find the address and it’s a surf store, it really seals the deal on these travel lessons.

Tomorrow we’re off to Paris, and on Wednesday we’re back in London. I can’t believe how quick two months have gone.

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