14th August 2010 – Au Revoir

St Étienne market was small given the size of the city, but at least it wasn´t completely dingy and slate-coloured like the area surrounding the train station. We set up, tucked away in a corner near the other fresh produce stalls. I eyed up our neighbour’s greengages greedily, wondering why their French name translated to Queen Claude. I mused over who Claude might have been and why she – and not some other – had been chosen as the stonefruit queen. Abelard talked to some of his stall-holding friends while Sophie and I set out the carrots and the onions. It was strange to see him looking relaxed. I began to wonder whether, coming as I had in peak harvest season and a heat-wave, I had simply caught him at a bad time. Perhaps he wasn´t always as brusque as he had appeared to me. The two of us began to sell the goods. I was beginning to be able to give a passable sales patter about the characteristics and merits of different types of lettuce, and I started enjoying talking to the customers. Some of them had no time for me and my English accent, but others were intrigued. I even ended up chatting to a woman from Lyon who had lived in Doncaster for several years. It was a small world.

Before leaving, Hannah, Nel and I went for one last hot chocolate in a nearby café. They were deliberating over what to make for their final meal that week and whether it was beyond them to attempt multiple portions of fish and chips; Hannah´s car was finally fixed and ready to hit the road again, but the girls had decided to stay for the méchoui before continuing their travels. We were all aware of two men watching us, and we had a giggle about it. After a while they came over to us. They had been taking bets on where we were from. One thought that we were French, the other thought we might be German. We told them they were both wrong. They were Turkish, and they stayed and talked for a while, but we needed to be getting back to the market; I had to leave myself enough time to get to the station. 

I was truly sad to say goodbye to Sophie. Of everybody at La Range, she was the one with whom I thought I might stay in touch. Abelard told me to take anything I liked from the stall for my lunch and dinner that day, so I packed together a paper bag of lettuce, baby courgettes and slices of Edouart´s bread. He wished me good luck in my life, and off I went. The buildings became increasingly and recognisably grey as I headed across the city and down the hill towards the station, old architecture giving way to concrete blocks. I boarded the train without regrets.

Tiredness hit me once I got to Lyon. I couldn’t face walking through the city for an hour to get to my hostel as I had done at the beginning of my travels. From the station I found a bus to Vieux Lyon, and from the bus stop I took the funicular up to the hostel. I was dead-beat; I could hardly keep my eyes open. In my room this time were two Israeli girls. They were fascinating and we talked together about culture and religion, but I wasn’t really compos mentis. They told me about the difficulties they had experienced finding food that they could eat in countries where it was not customary to keep kosher. They said they were relieved to be in France, where it was comparatively easy to find vegetarian food which they knew was safe. I smiled, remembering the problems that Catherine had come across as a travelling vegetarian while we were backpacking together. We had eaten an awful lot of pizza that month, but when we found good vegetarian restaurants, they had been amazing. 

I flopped on my bed for an hour before I decided that, exhausted or not, I really ought to make the most of being in Lyon. I wandered sleepily up the hill and sat on the steps of an old Roman amphitheatre to eat a cereal bar and to watch the sun setting over the city. There was a refreshing breeze blowing which revived me a little but it couldn’t mask the weight of the air: a storm was coming, of that I was sure. I just hoped that it didn’t hit before I caught the train the following morning. I was going to have to walk to the station, and I had no desire to do so in the rain. I was asleep long before the setting of the sun.