The date is Monday, April 7. It's almost 09.30 at the morning and I'm running wildly around the apartment, as I didn't get out of the bed just 15 minutes ago, jumping over my clothes, which are all over the floor, in trying to find my camera's battery, that seems to have been lost forever somewhere in all this chaos. 'I'll arrange everything once I get back home' - I promise to myself when I finally find it, buried under piles of white papers on the table, put it quickly into my bag, switch off the laptop and go out.
10 minutes into the tram and we finally come to the small vintage station, which reminds me of those beautiful stations that you can see only in the black and white romantic movies.
'Do you have something to cover these cups?' - I ask the confused seller at Paul, while flourishing my coffee cup in front of his eyes. He looks at my face even more confused, and maybe slightly annoyed, and turns his back on me just to come back half a minute later with two white caps. 'Jeez, what a freak!' - I tell to my friend and we both burst out laughing.
After getting off the bus number 9, we step towards to the first place, blocked our way. I'm not pretty sure that our choice is good enough because at first glance it seems that there is no free tables and there reigns such a chaos, so I'm truly surprised when finally, 10 minutes after we sit, some random, middle-aged and really fat man, with a gray shirt, black pants and tie, comes to take our order.
The truth is that Lyon has never really impressed me. Neither with its architecture nor with its infrastructure, nor with the people who can be seen on the streets. Don't get me wrong, the city is nice. It's just... not my kind of city, I guess. Somehow I don't feel the french touch in it. Everything is super colorful for me, devoid of aesthetics. I don't like the lack of style of people who cross the streets, as much as I don't like the mix of ultra modern and very old buildings in one place. Lyon is like one of those masterpieces of great artists that our professor of art history hotly analyze, and I just look stupidly and can't get it.
Walking around, we pass the both big rivers, or at least I think so, but geography and orientation have never been my strengths, so we can not be sure. Anyways, it's so beautiful.
Grandma once told me that around the rivers there are some special ions, which have a good effect on your aura, or something like that. I like the idea, it sounds to me magically, so I hope that is true. If I haven't had a sea sickness, we could even get a boat - a bit closer to the water and our new auras. However, I have a sea sickness, so sailing is not exactly my kind of entertainment, I guess.
After an hour walking around the river side, we become thirsty again, but this time for something cold. And fortunately, a small cafe with casually arranged tables and chairs and a cold strawberry milkshake - seem to be the solution of all my problems. As you see, we're not exactly that kind of tourists who go around tirelessly for hours without even thinking of rest. Nope. We love sitting, talking, (no matter that we do this constantly, even when we have classes), looking at the people on the street and discussing their looks, while drinking our fruit frappés, hot coffees, cold cocktails and smoothies. This is our way of dealing with stress and tension. Our way to be happy.
So, the day in Lyon ends with a quickly made Subway by an extremely sulk, young french seller and after that a breathless running up the escalator at the station because: 'Attention, passengers, the train to St. Etienne leaves in two minutes."
БЪЛГАРСКИ ТЕКСТ - ТУК!