Three Cities - Munich, Lyon, Paris. A plane, a train, a bus. Warm brown, cool blue, cloudy grey. One friend leaving a place she has come to know as home, one in a limbo between leaving and staying, and one who has made her new city her home.
Lyon
It was an early start from Munich, to get my train from the Hbf to Stuttgart, and then change at Strasbourg, and then on to Lyon. However, at the Hbf Nat and I realised that my first train had been delayed, meaning I would miss my connection at Stuttgart.
Since Ich kann nicht Deutsch sprechen, and I somehow needed to cross the 657.8km (137 hours of walking) from Munich to Lyon, Nat took charge, bringing us to the Deutsche Bahn information office, and speaking in rapid German to explain the situation. The Deutsche Bahn office was so helpful, finding alternative routes, printing new tickets, and letting me know that for the inconvenience I could ask for a partial refund of my train ticket. I had a few more minutes with Nat leaning against a cold cafe counter, before we had to have the actual last goodbye hug and I stepped onto the train.
My new train schedule meant I had 3 hours in Stuttgart, and on a day like that I couldn't not stash my suitcase in a locker and go for a short run (I needed to get back in time so I wouldn't have to pay extra for the locker use!) I saw a sign that said 'An Open Society is built on playful experimentation' at the schauspiel stuttgart (I don't really know what that means, but it seems to have some sort of association to the theatre) and got stopped by a man asking for directions in German (Ich kann nicht Deutsch sprechen) and exchanged friendly waves with an old man as I passed him twice while running round this little pond, with bits of it iced over. The second time he saw me he guffawed (A word I feel can only be applied to sweet old men with bellies for belly laughs) - he couldn't believe I'd made it round the lake so quickly!
I retrieved my suitcase, but with more time to spare I took it with me to quickly explore the Christmas Market in Stuttgart, which was much the same as the ones in Munich. A man tried to hand me a bible, but my hands were full, which I suppose could be a metaphor for my relationship with God quite often, unfortunately.
The train rides after that were not pleasant, not because of the trains themselves but because I was sitting so long I felt like my very bones were fossilizing and sinking into the seats. I tried stretching my legs, but kept accidentally awkwardly grazing the feet of the passenger across from me so I refrained from stretching unless he'd gone to the toilet (something he did at least 3 times)
I was so glad when I emerged into the Gare de Lyon, and allowed myself to be tugged by the pull of the crowds to what I assumed was the right exit - an assumption confirmed when I saw Niki standing below me as I walked down the steps. Niki is nothing but comforting, and so is her food - we had pasta with an aubergine sauce (thank you french carrefour!) and pumpkin baked very simply with olive oil, salt and pepper, which we had in our pasta and later smashed onto rice crackers.
I woke up early, to find Niki gone to school, and after breakfast I headed to the nearby Carrefour to pick up some food for the next few days. Navigating a supermarket in a foreign language isn't easy, and I checked every packet of croissant, hoping to find a vegan one but no luck. A woman selling mangoes and pineapples let me try some of the mango she'd cut up, and after some hand gesturing and attempts at French, she understood that I'd like 2 ripe mangoes please, and gave me one to eat today and one to eat tomorrow.
Niki's friend Penelope and I went to the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon (Museum of Fine Arts), which is near the beautiful Hotel De Ville (Town Hall) and the Opera theatre, where ballet dancers rehearse in a room that has windows as walls, and the whole city is spread out before them, or so Penelope tells me.
I found myself enamoured with the Medieval art, especially thinking of expressions of piety and devotion, and the other little things I'd picked up from last term. I also loved the section of Japanese pottery, where I could pick out the bowls and cups that had been fixed with lacquer dusted with gold, as part of the Kintsugi (“golden joinery”) or kintsukuroi (“golden repair”) tradition, which sees the brokeness of life as something to be embraced and illuminated rather than hidden.
We wandered into a few shops for Penelope to look at a few bags, stopped of in a bakery where I tried to hide behind Penelope from the cashier to avoid having to expose my inability to even say 'I don't speak French' (Je ne parle pas français)
Before the Fete de Lumiere that night, Niki and I went to her friend Chloe's for dinner. We wandered around the streets for a while, Niki with her phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear as she tried to explain where we were to Chloe who gave directions. We seemed to be at the right place, but the wrong place at the same time, until we heard a shrill 'Niki!' from above, and saw Chloe waving to us from her window!
Chloe is from Lebanon, but lived in Bahrain (pronounced with a gutteral 'h' that both Niki and I struggled to say) and cooked us a typical Bahrain dish of cumin spiced chickpeas - just chickpeas, cumin, salt, pepper, olive oil and water but it was so delicious. She also revealed to us that traditional tabbouleh has no couscous in it - it is just parsley and tomatoes!
We left to find two other school mates, and then walked Lyon's illuminated streets in the very very cold night air. Hot chestnuts and vin chaud (french mulled wine) were passed around, the hot brown paper bag of chestnuts tightly clutched and crumpled in each gloved hand as a momentary respite from the chill. Perhaps because of the security scares France has had in the past, the Fete wasn't as extravagant and festive as I anticipated, and my chief joy came from talking to Niki and her friends,
Chloe slept over at Niki's place, and parted with us midway to Le Marche de Noel (Christmas Market). The sun was warm on our backs and 'Miri, turn round,' Niki said, and took what she proudly calls her HONY picture of me with the bustling market in the background. I managed to get my own HONY photo of Niki the next day, when testing my camera beside the Rhone river, where we sat and peeled oranges, and talked about home, feeling out of place, and adjusting to new places. Then we waited in a long queue, took a funicular up to fourviere, and looked at the neat squares of Lyon from on high.
We were so cold when we got down, and I was thankful for the crush of bodies on the Lyon buses which meant shared body heat. We picked up a few things from the Asian grocers for the dinner party the next day, went home, and ended the day laughing as we put on face masks.
We made sort-of sushi, since we slightly burnt the rice (or rather, the bottom of the pot that the rice was in) and had to substitute the sweet soy sauce that real sushi comes with with an eclectic mix of sesame oil and soy sauce. But it tasted rather good with the avocado, tofu and cucumber sushi we made.
Marco, an Italian, came early to prepare his pasta carbonara - which he explained to us has no cream ('the biggest lie in history') but is instead made of raw egg and egg yolk, pepper, and parmareggio cheese stirred in to form a thick sauce that is poured over the just boiled noodles to slightly cook and thicken it. Different foods were made by the different nationalities that came to the dinner party - greek food and italian food dominated, some brazilian food too and a german girl who was also (mostly) vegan brought a delicious chickpea salad.
I felt so happy to leave Niki this way, surrounded by friends, loud conversation and good food. Lyon is supposed to be a student city and in that little apartment that night, the rude, sharp and irritable Lyonnais people we'd come across previously were forgotten in the light of the hum (and sometimes loud greek or italian yells) of gathered people. My bus was at midnight - Niki sent me off without wearing her coat, so it was a quick good bye and I sat down, hoping to get some sleep.
You are stronger than you know Niki, and wiser too. And so whatever you decide about staying, or going, you will learn and grow, and go with God.
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