Where do you want to go, he asked when we arrived in Lyon, and I said “up there,” up on Croix Rousse. We climbed stairs and zigzagged our way up sloped streets. The city climbed, too, clinging to the hills and pouring into pocket parks and winding roads. This city feels old and loved, I noted, with its form and shape and streetscapes, just as the Gallo Romans once built, and as the French now enjoy. Oh, how we enjoyed it, too, each sweeping viewpoint after another, delighting us with its image and soundtrack.
