The Wayfaring Path

I’m posting a pic a day to my Bluesky account: https://bsky.app/profile/lindaholman.bsky.social which you can look at without setting up an account – just click the link!

Our last week in Lyon was the start of Christmas making her presence felt, with beautiful lights going up everywhere, lovely shop window decorations, and the Christmas market opening up! Sadly we are missing the Lyon Festival of Lights by a week or so, which would have been amazing, but we didn’t know about it when we booked, so we’ll have to come back!

The Lyon Christmas market opened on Saturday so we walked over to visit it. From a distance there was a sea of heads in the pedestrianised street leading up to the market, which triggered my usual horror of crowds and made me want to turn back. But once we were in it, it was fine. Something we greatly appreciate in Europe are the car-free streets where you can wander about, look in shop windows and relax, taking it all in. The vibe was festive and the scent of waffles delicious.

The market consisted of a series of small wooden cabins, and a path that wound its way around them. It was fenced, and we had our bags searched on the way in, plus there were lots of people out for this opening evening so it was crowded – but we got a cup of vin chaud (hot wine) each and kept a gentle pace. There’s a mix of food and drink stalls, craftspeople, and the usual stuff you might find at a market in NZ – but generally a much higher standard of wares. I was enchanted by a glass artist who made the most beautiful and delicate ornaments – I’d love to have bought one but getting it home in one piece would have been impossible.

After a while the crowds got too much so we headed home, with plans to return later that week in the afternoon when it’s quieter, which we did, and it was really good to be able to take our time and look at everything closely. If I had endless money and didn’t have to carry everything I bought I’d have purchased so many things! But I kept myself happy with a small pocket knife (which I will have to remember to take out of my carry-on bag before I fly home!).

The rest of the week was walking around Lyon, revisiting the things that we enjoyed and exploring a few more streets. Lyon has some amazing murals, as well as lovely mosaics in the potholes – a clever little protest against the council. I’m getting a bit more comfortable speaking French, although not really much past bonjour, merci, and au revoir! I’ve found in both Sweden and France it’s taken at least a week before I can speak at all, it’s really weird how shy I feel. I wonder if it’s a sort of “performance anxiety” or perfectionism where if I can’t do it perfectly then I am unable to speak at all. But now I’m mostly able to ask for what I need, or at least apologise in French that I only speak English! Generally people here, particularly the younger ones, are fine to speak English with us (often they switch immediately upon seeing the look of confused terror on my face!). I’m in the swing of the usual shop conversations – do you need help? Would you like a bag? Do you want the receipt? and I can oui and non along, and then wish them bon journée (good day), which is my favourite phrase. I’m sure I’m fooling exactly nobody, but it feels like a win every time I don’t have to resort to English.

I realised today that by the time we leave France we’ll have been in non-English-speaking countries for nearly three months on this trip. That’s quite a long time! By the time we left Sweden I was just starting to get more confident with my Swedish and was so sad to go. Everyone in Stockholm speaks such excellent English but all the signs and announcements are in Swedish – I always felt so proud of myself when I figured out what a sign or advert was saying. My fave was “tandkött” on a dental products ad, which means gums – translating as tooth-meat! But I’m much weaker on French and I think we are both looking forward to being back in the UK and being able to chat with people in shops and pubs. Regan is feeling it more than me, I’m quite happy to disappear into my own little world but I know he’s feeling a bit isolated not being able to chat about beer or whatever in a bar.

One of our afternoon adventures was to a large park and zoo in the north of the city. This last section of the trip is quite urban, which is great from a getting around point of view but means green spaces are a bit harder to come by. It was a long walk but totally worth it just to see the flamingos! I felt pretty sorry for them as the pond was starting to ice over at the edges, but they seemed happy enough. As it is winter pretty much every other animal was sensibly hiding away in the warm so it was a bit of a visit to multiple empty enclosures really, but it was a good walk and made the apartment feel extra cosy when we got home!

Other last week highlight was the Confluences museum – an amazing building at the bottom of the spit of land where the two big rivers of Lyon meet. It reminds me a bit of the corrugated iron sheepdog building in Tirau but much bigger and way cooler. The museum was good, but a bit of a mix of things that I didn’t really understand why they’d been put together. It was a freezing day and I walked a long way, I really love these days of wrapping up warm and walking about. This trip has been just brilliant, definitely the best year of my life so far. It’s also good that I’m looking forward to getting home as it’s going to be hard to not be able to just walk out my front door and be walking along medieval streets!

Then it was time to eat a few last Lyon delicacies, clean and pack, and leave our lovely pink apartment. I’ve really loved having such a wonderful place to stay – warm, colourful, quirky, and right in the middle of old town – perfection. Well, apart from the four flights of stairs! Regan carried Bertha down those stairs, bless him, and I dragged her along the cobbles to the bus station. Buses are just so much less fun than trains but anyway we got to our destination along with our luggage so it was fine. It was dark and a bit wet when we arrived and we stopped at a pizza joint for something to eat on the way to our accommodation – the man behind the counter was so lovely and it was a nice introduction to Dijon.

We popped in to the supermarket too – as we are moving on each week now, not settling in for weeks at a time, we are changing up our routines and how we shop for groceries – space in our bags is at a premium so we can’t drag big jars of mustard or peanut butter around with us. We are both still working mornings, and we’ll have all of the Christmas week off – we’ll be in London then which would have meant 5am starts for me, so I’m pretty stoked to avoid that! So the trip feels different now, not bad, just different.

Our apartment was totally fine – just a basic white-walled Airbnb – but I was missing our pink palace so was a bit mean about it for the first 24 hours, but that was just me being a brat really. Dijon is smaller than Lyon and definitely has a more relaxed vibe. Just like in Lyon we were staying in the old town so could walk out the door and be in the middle of things and it was quiet and warm and had everything we needed. I was tired the next day, travel days really wipe me out, but eventually hauled myself out of bed and went exploring. Regan had been out most of the day and was able to show me around, which was nice.

We followed the “Owl trail” which is a self-directed walking tour that takes you around all the main sights in the historic centre of Dijon. We went to the Duke’s Palace, which is now the Beaux-arts (fine arts) museum, and the Christmas market, and went to the Notre-Dame of Dijon to rub the small owl carved into the stone for good luck. The owl has become the unofficial symbol of Dijon, and you see them everywhere. There’s also a lot of polar bears, as another famous thing is the polar bear sculpture by François Pompon; and of course mustard – lots of mustard shops but nothing feels overly touristy, at least not compared to other places I’ve visited over the years.

The old town is so beautiful, and I have to keep reminding myself that this is not very common, to exist in a world of well-preserved ancient buildings and twinkly Christmas lights. I’m completely acclimatised to this now and wish everywhere was like it – we should all live surrounded beauty and joy and it makes me sad that so many of us do not.

Leaving the art museum it was dark outside, the days are definitely very short now, but that means all the lights were on and it was just magical. Dijon does a great job of decorating the public spaces with trees and lights, plus all the shops have gorgeous displays too. It had been raining (my gumboots are finally getting some wear!) and so the lights were reflected in the wet cobbles, which just made it feel more like being in a fairy tale (or a Hallmark Christmas movie!). Christmas in summer time has it’s joys but it just feels so SO much more magical to me in the winter. I think we’ll make more of a fuss about Matariki – put up lights and maybe even a tree, have mulled wine and spiced gingerbread. And come back for more northern Christmases!

On Monday we went to the Museum of Burgundian life, which is totally my kind of place with lots of old clothing and weird displays and a recreation of a street from back in the day. Maybe not so much Regan’s thing but he survived! Next door there was supposed to be a Museum of Sacred Art which is RIGHT up my alley but sadly it was closed, which was a real shame. But I can’t be too mad as all the museums in Dijon are FREE, so kudos to the council for that. The museums aren’t a patch on those in Stockholm of course (yes, I’m still obsessed with Stockholm museums!) but they are interesting and a bit unusual and the price is great on a budget.

Tuesday was a nice day walking around town, we took a closer look at the market and chatted with a chap who makes cute little worlds inside books and frames. I went to Notre Dame to sketch the stained glass windows, which has since become my new obsession and prompted multiple visits to the stationery store for just the right shade of blue. I can’t sit for longer than an hour as my back starts to ache and I begin to freeze, but an hour in an ancient church sketching beautiful glass is a wonderful daily activity. I love the way photography and filming prompts me to look at the world differently, finding interesting angles, movement and shapes; but sketching the glass makes me look differently again – breaking it down into repeating patterns and colours and trying to capture the light – all the while being dependent on the sun to illuminate the window enough to see the detail. It’s a meditation in a way, and kind of fun being part of the life of the church, even for just a small time, hearing people come and go and whisper their prayers and light their candles.

I left the church to meet Regan for a drink and the sky was gorgeous – pastel and pretty and perfect for the old streets and festive decorations. It took my breath away and I stood and filmed it for a while, trying to drink it in so I never forget. Regan had picked a bar with a truly excellent 80s playlist, so we Shazammed away and added songs to our own playlists. Walking home through the streets lit up and filled (but not over-filled) with people was such a joy. It really is the simple things that make life special.

On Wednesday we went to the archaeological museum, which was like a 3 minute walk from our apartment (have I mentioned how much I like Dijon?!) The guard recognised us from Monday’s museum visit, which was quite sweet, but honestly I don’t think they get a lot of New Zealanders there so I guess we are memorable. The “price” you have to pay to get in is to tell them where you’re from and people are always surprised to hear how far from home we are.

Underneath the museum is a crypt, as it used to be a chapel, and there are heaps of amazing carvings and sculptures, and it’s wonderful and atmospheric – the lighting design is top notch. We had fun taking spooky photos of each other and hearing the echoes. There was one carving that had traces of the paint, which is my favourite thing to see as it helps me imagine how bright and colourful everything would have been. Nerd alert: did you know that the cold white statues and sculptures we see today from the Roman, medieval and other times would have been brightly coloured? People throughout history have loved colour, so the telly shows where everyone is wearing dull variations of grey or brown aren’t very accurate. People knew how to dye fabric and make paint and they were surrounded by colour – both earthy tones and vibrant ones too.

Thursday was a bit exciting as our roof sprung a leak – the upstairs shower water was making it’s way south. But happily nothing dramatic happened – I had visions of a confused French person falling into our bathroom but no, so it’s a problem for future tenants to worry about. Regan had told me I HAD TO visit the Rude museum – not what you’re thinking, it’s a museum of works by a famous sculptor called François Rude! His most famous work is La Marseillaise which is on the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, and the museum had plaster casts of that and others of his sculptures. He was from Dijon, hence the local interest. The museum is in part of an old church, so was wonderfully atmospheric, and when you first walk in and see La Marseillaise it’s a very intense experience. It’s MASSIVE! Like massive massive. It’ll be exciting to see the real thing in situ when we are in Paris soon.

After another sketching session I met Regan at Mulot & Petitjean, a famous gingerbread maker, started in 1796. It was in the most adorable building, also about 5 minutes walk from our apartment (Dijon is amazing), and was such a feast for the senses. Every inch of the shop was beautiful, from the floor tiles to the ceilings, with every available surface covered in delicious treats. The gingerbread has a different texture to what I’m used to, fluffier, with a very smooth surface. Delicately spiced and just perfection. I felt like I was in Santa’s workshop, as you could see people out the back cutting up huge chunks of gingerbread loaf and packaging them in boxes wrapped with ribbon – I kid you not!

It’s something I really appreciate about France, there are lots of small producers making lovely things that don’t cost the earth and that people actually buy. There are the equivalent of $2 shops too of course, but there’s such a lot of local produce, it’s great. There were some towns in the UK (and in NZ) where half the shops were either vape stores or charity shops, and it was hard to find anyone making things. Obviously I’m a tourist, and I’m doing touristy things, but when I’m in these places everyone except me speaks French, so I’m assuming they are locals buying from locals. Love it! (although I’m also missing the UK charity shops as they are excellent).

Friday was our last day in town, and being in Dijon, it was about time we went and did some mustard tasting! Regan had researched and found a family business that did tastings so we went along and had a go. I’m not a foodie and to be honest I couldn’t really taste that much difference, but I think mostly that was because it was a bit stressed as it was crowded around the mustard pumps and I wasn’t pushy enough so kept being ejected out the back of the group! Anyway, as our bags are very full we could only buy some very tiny jars, but at least we did our mustardy duty in Dijon!

Back home to pack up and clean the apartment and get ready to leave. I’m sad to leave Dijon and think it would be a nice place to live – not too big, not too small, lots of amazing old buildings and lots of interesting free museums. Throw in a yarn and fabric store and I’m sold!

I’m so glad of my gumboots now as it’s rained most days – not heavily but constant. Saturday was no exception so it was a wet drag of Bertha to the train station. Our train was delayed and there was a very compressed transfer time to our second train, but we made it to Metz (pronounced “Mess”) just fine. We met the host at the apartment – she’s lovely – and got to know our new home. It’s an attic conversion by the looks, not suitable for tall people I’m afraid, Mo! Very cute and has a bath, so that’s fab. We headed into town to start looking around as there are multiple venues for Christmas magic in Metz! We found the one nearest to us, had some vin chaud (along with a lesson on how to pronounce it properly!) said “wow!” a lot, chatted with a lovely local woman, and saw our first Christmas Dragon. I know. What?

If you’d like to be notified by email when we post, enter your email and hit Subscribe at either the top right or very bottom of this page.