Florence, Italy-The Indescribable City, The Soul City

Florence is a city for the soul.

Specifically built, I think, to reflect the beauty and the dark and hidden secrets of our souls.

You could spend a lifetime exploring and walking only a few streets. 

As in most European cities, a river lies at the heart of Florence, lending movement and life to the stationary buildings. 

The views from this river are lovely enough to remain in one's mind for a lifetime or more. Imprinting themselves on the soul. 


My first day in Florence, or as the Italians call it Firenze, I joined some wonderful new friends from my hostel in climbing to the roof of the city and enjoyed the view of the soul city stretched out around me. 

That night, as is my tradition, I wandered the streets of Florence with a young Argentinian who I also knew from my hostel. 

It was his life's dream to see Italy.

Combined with my ability to see astonishing beauty in the tiniest of objects and places, our stroll became so meaningful in our own separate ways that the others in our hostel were startled when we returned practically glowing with adoration for such a city. 

What made our night stroll so special was our destination. 

A destination that is stunning and breathtaking in the light of day but fills the very soul at night.

The view from Piazzale Michelangelo is so captivating that I returned the next night and returned alone along the river to my hostel feeling as I never had before-a completed soul.

I left Firenze happy, knowing a new version of the word, and sad, knowing a new depth of that word as well. 

I vowed to return, knowing in my heart that it would be a miracle if I ever again left Italy. 

So I warned my family that I may never return to the States and boarded a train to a small Italian town beside the coast to fulfill a childhood dream and sadly waved goodbye to my beloved Firenze-my Soul City. 

Cutting Through Nature-On The Train From Switzerland to Italy

Geneva, Switzerland-A City of Two Elements-Air and Water

Geneva is a quiet kind of place.

Surrounded by mountains and valleys, the air is crisp and clean-completely unlike all other major cities.

Geneva boarders a lake whose water is so clear it appears shimmery and blue-green. With such beauty at its center it is no wonder locals and tourists alike flock to it.

Life in Geneva seems to revolve around the lake, a calm, relaxed and beautiful core for their lives.

Having only stayed two nights in Geneva, I can say little to the culture. The people are simply kind and helpful and go about their day not minding the tourists who seem to adopt the laided back atmosphere while in Geneva.

Even the older parts of the city, with its unique arcitecture mimicing the craigs comforting the country, seems relaxed.   

Staying in such a calm and collective city, even if only for two nights, helped to break the stress of constantly moving between cities, changing trains and hopping metros.

Geneva slows you down and offers a slight repreave from the chaos of traveling in foreign countries. As is their standby, everything is safe in Switzerland-even the contents of the hostel fridge.

In addition Swiss chocolate is in abundance and a delight-some are even in the shape of Swiss army knives.

Plus I have never seen so many watch shops on one block in my life!

"Come along Life, take my hand, let's have an adventure together."

~KrystleLyric

Lyon-The Real City

Lyon is the real France.

Although not without its tourists and attractions Lyon, unlike other major European cities, does not seem to cater to them.

Where in Paris most people spoke very good English and there was at least one English speaker in every business, in Lyon it is rather difficult to get around with little or no French.

In this city of both the old and the new, you are assumed to know French. You are almost assumed to be local rather than a tourist.

Lyon is small in the sense that people call out to you on the street and are surprised when you do not know French.

“Oh,” they say and walk away, almost as if nothing else need be said.

Here the youth of the city stand beside tourists, not hiding or avoiding the main center as in some other cities. Instead they break dance on the steps of the Opera House and skateboard along the walks beside the two rivers gliding through Lyon.

The afternoon I arrived I was given a Metro ticket and map and was showed the apartment I was to stay in where I was given a small snack of French cookies. Then, I was let lose on the city.

I walked along the main shopping district admiring fountains and sculptures and the garden of the Musee des Beaux-arts de Lyon near the Opera de Lyon.

As dusk began to settle I crossed one of the two rivers and, in order to not become lost on the Metro, began to walk along the river in the direction I thought the apartment was-it turns out I was wrong.

After about two bridges I realized my mistake and turned around, now heading in the right direction.

It had begun to rain as dusk had begun to fall and although I had not had room for an umbrella in my pack, I was happy for the rain which seemed to suit Lyon.

The gray of the sky and the light haze of the falling drops seemed to bring out the hues of the city.

Peaches and yellows and creams gleamed from the paint of the buildings, making the distinction of the old parts of the city from the new, more modern and grey parts all the more apparent.

I was told that Lyon is much more beautiful in the sun which is a lovely sight to be sure. But after sitting beneath a bridge in the rain, my feet dangling above the river, watching the lights of the city turn on and the colors of the homes shake off the grey of the sky, I must disagree.

The French family I stayed with in Lyon were just as wonderful as the one in Bourg-en-Bresse even offering me a spare key to the apartment and suggesting places to see and things to do.

They encouraged me to see the city and I was even invited to drinks with the university friends of the nephew who had met me at the train station-a group of energetic French youth with wonderful plans for the future and wonderful travel advice.

The next day the daughter of the family and I spoke of travel and life in Lyon through Google Translator. She then showed me a very well done YouTube video her middle brother had made of Lyon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svgEbOF1s6g

The mother of the family was yet another wonderful French mother, making me miss my own with her generosity and teasing with her three children, it did not mater that I did not know what they were saying. Laughter and a mothers love are universal.

I spent much of my four days in Lyon along the river. Here children played and joggers ran, bicyclists meandered by enjoying the views and swans glided past boats turned into restaurants and bars and homes. Some of the boats even had gardens and mailboxes.  

My second and third days in Lyon were calmer weather and with a better handle on the Metro, I traveled into the cities shopping center again and wandered on to what is known as the “Old City”.

Above the city of Lyon sits a cathedral with gardens and trails draping down the hill and sporting astonishing views of the city. The cathedral was so stunning I felt compelled to walk silently through her pews and to sit among the traveling worshipers.

At night the city lit up again and the moon hung above the colored city and cathedral that could be seen by all.

At the foot of a church just below the hill-top cathedral, there sits the remains of what is thought to be one of the oldest churches in all of France.

On one of my last mornings in Lyon I walked to the Parc de la Tete d'Or, my immediate favorite place in Lyon, with its gardens, zoos, lakes, and greenhouses.  

With one last goodbye to this lovely French family who had opened their home to me and one last look at the views of Lyon, I boarded a train to Geneva, Switzerland on my slow way to Italy.

“Come along Life, take my hand, let’s have an adventure together.”

~KrystleLyric

Bourg-en-Bresse, France-The City In the Heart of France

On The Train From Paris to Bourg-en-Bresse

While in Paris I was invited to meet a family in the small city of Bourg-en-Bresse, a city nearly two hours South of Paris by train, two hours North of Lyon and filled with buildings from many different centuries.

A Lovely Old Church in The Heart of Bourg-en-Bresse

Much of France does not have access to wifi like the United States or England and it is much harder to find businesses with access.
Cafes do not offer wifi so travels must have 3G or stronger or must visit hostels, hotels, or Starbucks Coffee houses in order to find wifi.
With facebook and emailing being my only form of contact with the United States or anyone in Europe, I have found the sparse wifi to be extremely trying. After nearly an hour of trying to find wifi so as to contact the family I was to stay with, I was finally able to tell them that I had arrived and was near the station.
The family welcomed me into their lovely home with open arms offering me not only a bed to sleep in, but meals, a phone to call home with, a chance to do laundry, advice and conversation, a map and contacts in Lyon and complete access to their home. “What is ours is yours,” they told me.

The View From The Families Kitchen Window

Although I only stayed two nights, I feel I learned more about France with that small family than I did in my five days in Paris.
My first day in their home I was offered lunch with two men from the families business.
The meal was to be at their home and was large and grand beginning at 12:30 and not ending until 4:30.
Like any good French meal it began with three different types of French wine-the best I’ve ever tasted.
Then came seasoned fish with some sort of amazing potato dish with shrimp and mushrooms. Then came something that sounded like ratatouille and tasted amazing. This main course was followed by a plate filled with about five different kinds of cheeses-it was then that I was informed you eat cheese with a knife not a spoon. Then came the desert, then the coffee or tea, and then whiskey. And throughout it all was bread-an amazing meal to be sure!
After this stunning meal, which I believe to be the best in all of France, the woman of the house took me to visit Bourg-en-Bresse where she showed me lovely old buildings and tried to encourage me to speak more French-something I remember only a few phrases of.
“You are in France,” she said. “Speak French.” So I tried and then laughed at myself.

A Church Known Most For Its Unique Roof

That night we ate a regional tradition: frogs.
Frogs are eaten with the hands, something like reversed spaghetti. One puts the frog into their mouth and, pursing their lips to collect the meat, pulls the bones through their tightened lips. Each frog was small, about the size of a crumpled piece of paper and there must have been nearly 100 of them to feed the five people at the kitchen table.
Although good, it was one of the strangest meals of my life.
After dinner we talked of travel and I showed the family pictures of the West Coast of Washington State so they could see what my home looked like.
Later, I hugged the children good night and good bye and kissed the cheeks of the father.
The next morning the mother drove me to the train station.
Giving me a map of my next destination and kisses on the cheeks, she sent me on my way like any mother would-wishing me safety, making sure I knew which stop was mine and the giving me the name of her nephew who was to meet me at the station.
I felt as if I were leaving a French version of my own mother and I knew this family would always be in my heart.

“Come along Life, take my hand, lets have an adventure together.”

~KrystleLyric