Monday, July 18, 2011

13. Bastille Day

While the 4th of July passed with very little proclamation (besides loud and slightly ironic declarations of “GOD BLESS AMERICA!” in a heavily American bar, accompanied by a round of flaming shots), Bastille Day was celebrated with great gusto.
The city was deserted during the day. Most every corner café and tabac was closed, everything except the boulangeries—you wouldn’t dare ask the Lyonnais to go a day without their fresh baguettes. Around mid-afternoon, however, the world exploded. Restaurants and bistrots suddenly opened their doors, catering to the instant crowd of families, dogs, couples, and tourists. Jazz musicians and neo-soul bands warmed up along the Quai Saint Antoine. While I was slightly nostalgic for funnel cake and bad hot dogs, the mouthwatering scent of kabobs and chocolate crêpes was enough to make me want to eat for days.
After sunset, the city gathered along the Saone to watch the display of feux d’artifice over Fourvière. The bridges and paths along the river were packed with people—sitting, standing, smoking—all waiting expectantly for the show to begin.
The fireworks were unbelievable—I’ve never seen a more beautiful or well-designed display. It was a thunderstorm of colors, gold and silver spiraled upward in quick bursts. A waterfall of fire streamed from the top of Fourvière, illuminating the cathedral in red and gold. Each time I thought the stunning display was the finale, another would begin, even better than the last.
The rest of the evening we spent in Vieux Lyon. We first hit up Nardonne with the rest of the crowds, the world-famous café-glacier that specializes in both exotic flavors and very attractive waiters. (It’s a good thing the ice cream costs an arm and a leg, otherwise I might have visited much too often.) Then commenced a tour of the Irish pubs.
If you ever have the sudden urge for a Guinness while in France, make a pit stop in Lyon. Flanigan’s Bar and Pub (located right at the bottom of Croix-Rousse) has Guinness on tap, Bulmer’s hard cider, and even traditional music on Tuesday nights. (The bartender once played me a few bars of “Galway Girl” on the pennywhistle and was delighted when I knew the song.) While Bastille Day was sadly lacking in Irish music (I can’t imagine why), the pubs were lively and filled with Irish, American, and British tourists as well as plenty of local students.
It was interesting, however—while everyone was clearly in a celebratory mood, I saw very, very little in the way of patriotic clothing, flags, and other paraphernalia that dominate our 4th of July celebrations. And yet the night never lacked spirit and excitement—on the contrary. It seems that the French take their national holidays and celebrations very seriously, with just as much planning and enthusiasm as Americans. And this is just what I have come to realize in Lyon: the French don’t overdo things, they just do them right—the first time. Coffees are small, but strong and full of flavor. You don’t need three helpings of pasta because the first is so deliciously satisfying. Take things slow: window shop before you buy, stop for a drink and a chat. Don’t rush, just relax. Stop to enjoy the flowers—or the fireworks.