Emily and Linda’s Travel Blog

After our museum visit, we returned to the Old Town to visit the market, which had been mostly closed when arrived the day before.  It's famous for flowers, but of course I was more drawn to the produce.  

This was a stall devoted to dried, crystallized fruit - I found the hibiscus particularly beautiful. 

These melons, which we later learned were called Charentais melons (a variety of canteloupe) are particularly delicious and found even in bodega-like stores in several of the towns we were in.  

These had to be the largest mangos I'd ever seen - for comparison, the pineapples next to them are the usual size. 

This stand was entirely devoted to different kinds of nougat - much softer and lighter than most of what we get in the US

There were also immense and luscious looking figs, but somehow I managed to put my foolish finger in front of the lens so no picture.  I recall as a kid reading in biblical texts and poetry about the lusciousness of figs and their sensual pleasures.  I'd only met dried figs in my life and could never figure out what they were talking about.  Later in life I encountered the fresh version - and these giant beauties were certainly enough to make you understand the poetry and scripture.  Sorry I didn't capture them.  I asked to buy just one, but the vendor wouldn't sell a single and there wasn't enough time in Nice to eat more than that.  Next time I guess

One of the items on my "must do in Nice" list was to taste Socca - a local dish that's kind of like a cross between a flatbread and a tart made with chickpeas and baked in a wood fired oven.  No wheat flour so great for my gluten-free diet.  It's quite a production to purchase it at the most famous socca stand at the market - Chez Theresa. 

To obtain your little folded up sleeve of the Socca, you have to first buy a ticket and then stand in line.  Linda wasn't too interested so she wandered off to explore - and returned a while later worried that she might have wandered for too long.  Only to find me in exactly the same place in line as when she left.  

It became clear why they sell you the ticket first.  In fact, when I got in line, there was no Socca there - it would come later from the main ovens some blocks away.  It's quite a production.  First a fellow bikes up to the stand with a conical oven-like thing on the front of the bike.  Then he unloads the pan of Socca onto the stand.  Finally, the woman inside the stand cuts the socca up with a pizza-cutter type tool and scrapes pieces into a paper cone to be handed out to the folks in line. It actually took 2 rounds of him delivering the socca and going back to pick up and deliver a second batch before I got to the front of the line.  

But it was worth the wait. The socca was crispy and smoky - quite delicious.  I was planning to bring some on the plane the next day since gluten-free items are hard to find in plane cuisine, or indeed at  most food vendors in the airport.  So we both tasted the socca and then I packed it away for the trip. 

We happened on a restaurant called Zari right across from the market stalls in the shade with a breeze so we could relax and watch the folks closing down the market.  Ironically, there was a different socca vendor directly across from the restaurant with no line - we sampled their wares as well.  Good, but Chez Theresa’s was better so I was glad I’d waited  

By this time, Linda had decided she was a big fan of the Salade Nicoise and had been sampling different versions available in Marseille and Nice (those of you who know her well, know that for Linda salad has, until recently, been more to be endured than enjoyed).  Sadly, the one being served at Zari was a bit more "modern" with barely cooked tuna that Linda found flat and tasteless.  Perhaps a case of emphasizing presentation over flavor. I was happier with my Dorade (bream) with polenta and vegetables which was delicious.  

By then we'd run out of steam and headed home to get ready for the trip back home.  

We considered another Vietnamese dinner, but decided instead to try out a local Lebanese place that had a long table with about 12 women in hijabs eating and talking animatedly.  Seemed like a good bet - and it was, but I forgot to take pictures.  I was too busy trying to figure out a respectful way to take a picture of the women's table (which I didn't accomplish either).  But anyway a good place to finish our visit.     

We started our last day in Nice at the Matisse Museum - It's actually situated in a villa he never lived in, but it's near to his location in NIce.  

We were interested to discover that the pseudo-arches around the shuttered windows were painted on, presumably to create the feeling of a grand country house. 

As you enter, you see this statement:"Pour l'exécution de mes tableaux, j'ai besoin de rester pendant une suite de jours dans le même ordre de sensations et je ne trouve pas cette facilité dans un autre climat que celui de la Côte d'Azur"[To produce my paintings, I need to remain in the same emotional landscape for several days, and I find nowhere as conducive to it as the Cote d'Azur.]

When we arrived (fairly early in the AM - for us anyway), there was already a line forming on the stairs leading to the entry.  We walked around to the rear entrance for PRMs (people with reduced mobility) and rang the bell.  It was quite a production - a guard arrived and had to radio in that she was opening the door (I guess they are leery about recent art thefts).  Another guard had to oversee.  Then we took an elevator down to sign in, followed by another elevator to get up to the start of the exhibit.  As mentioned in earlier posts, PRMs usually are admitted to museums for free - most often the companion is also admitted free.  However, the woman at the desk seemed never to have seen a rollator before.  She couldn't quite process it.  She asked to see my PRM card, which of course I didn't have.  I told her I was from the US and had no card.  She spluttered a bit, talked to her colleague, and then asked me "Do you have proof of your legs?".  Just struck us both as a funny way to put it.  In the end, she decided to let me in free, but charge LInda.  Which was fine.  We could afford to pay.  We just wanted access to the elevators.  

The ground floor had a reproduction of one of Matisse's paper-cutting designs.  At the end of his life, he had survived cancer and other illness and was quite debilitated as a result.  He couldn't stand up to paint.  So he turned to cutting paper shapes

The collection is small, but interesting.  The first exhibit we visited was on the collaboration/cross-influence of Matisse on Yves Saint Laurent, particularly Matisse's use of textiles both in interior design and in fashion worn by his models.  

From the Museum info:

YSL fashions

Matisse works with prominent textiles  

The first is called La Robe bleu refletée dans la glace (Blue Dress Reflected in a Mirror). The second is Le Modele entre figure et decor (The model between figure and decor).

A number of other exhibits noted the way that Matisse worked and re-worked his drawings and paintings, sometimes by doing them in series' and other times reworking on the same canvas or drawing.  This was one of my favorite examples of the latter.

Nude renversé étendu sur le dos - Reclining Nude, lying on her back. "[This] work retains visible traces of reworking, erasures and revisions that attest to a long process of transformation.  The still perceptible red and blue marks indicate that the composition underwent several stages before being deliberately reduced to this regined, almost graphic form." 

On Day 2 in Nice, we decided to take another "petit train" ride - on the recommendation of a friend who had just been to Nice a few weeks prior.  We wondered if it would cover the same ground as the car caravan, but the route was different and we got some different vistas and history. 

Afterward we walked around the Vielle Ville (old town) and looked for some lunch.  We were kind of tired of the standard French bistro menu by then and ended up at a Mexican cafe.  Initially with some trepidation, but actually the food was quite good - and a change from recent meals.  Might be the best veggie tacos I’ve ever had  

We continued our walk and unfortunately learned the hard way that once you're in the center of the old village, you cannot get a cab.  There are no cars allowed.  We asked what happens when you are staying at a hotel in that neighborhood - they told us you either have to bring your luggage in yourself or hire a special small electric car.  So for me, one more round of walking further than I had intended, but with frequent rest stops, I managed to trudge out to the area where cars were allowed and got home.  It's a lovely area, on a hilly part of town, but venture in cautiously if walking is challenging.  

When we got back to the apartment, we were met with this notice:

It says that the water will be shut off at 8 am the next day for repairs and also  you can't use the drains at all - so no flushing with saved water as we sometimes do when they work on the pipes at home.  We thought about it for a while and finally decided that we didn't want to spend our last 2 days on vacation wondering when we could use the toilet or having to roam around looking for available ones.  We're too old for that. So we made the radical decision to move to a hotel - as Linda said, we are lucky we can afford to deal with it that way.  Our subsequent accomodations were not as luxe, but it was the kind of clean, but a little worn at the edges hotel that we would have happily stayed in when we were younger. I liked the name - The Hotel Paganini (there was an actual violin at the front desk).  The best deal available was the triple (3 beds) and for 2 nights we were fine with that.  It was a tight squeeze, but it came with a mini fridge and a bathroom with unlimited access.  

And the smallest elevator so far - you can go up or your bags can go up - takes some planning:

One advantage of the move was the opportunity to explore a new neighborhood.  Less touristy and for some reason it was a haven for Vietnamese restaurants (I counted 5).  We looked in the windows and chose the one with the most Asian people inside.  It was already packed at 7:15 although it had just opened at 7:00.  But our host made room for us in the back room next to the table where grandma was keeping track of things and doing veg prep.  A little later a couple and their son arrived, clearly regulars because they greated everyone by name and with kisses.  Grandma was  moved out of her spot and the trio was seated between the wine cases and Tzing Tao box.  "Fantastique - La place d'honneur" (the seat of honor)! Exclaimed the woman of the family.

The menu was a little challenging - all pictures with mostly Vietnamese and a bit of French text.  But happily I recognized one of my favorite Viet dishes - Banh  Xeo  a sort of cross between a crepe and an omelette, filled with bean sprouts, shrimp, chicken, onions.  Served with a heap of lettuce and herbs.  You cut off a slice of the omelette and make a lettuce wrap with the herbs, then dip it in the accompanying rice vinegar sauce.  Messy, but delicious and this was a particularly good one - light and not at all greasy, with plenty of Asian basil and cilantro.  

So all-in-all, we were happy with our move.  

Still catching up on posting about our vacation in France.  The last stop was Nice where we had an apartment on the Promenade des Anglais  right on the Mediterranean.  It was a beautiful spot, though the apartment turned out to have a few issues. 

The balcony was the selling point and it really was lovely (though too hot mid-day because the awning didn’t work). Also, the advertised AC was only in the front room so the bedrooms in the back were hot.  No problem, we thought, because it’s cool out at night and we can leave the windows open.  Only it turns out the lovely Promenade becomes the drag racing spot for unmuffled motorcycles at night.  Still, it seemed like a good spot overall and there were ceiling fans in the bedrooms so not too bad.  We settled in and found an acceptable, but unremarkable dinner in a restaurant 2 blocks away.  I don’t recall what we ate except that it wasn’t very good. However, we had learned in Aix that no meal is so bad that it can’t be redeemed by a Dame Blanche - a hot fudge sunday with whipped cream or “Chantilly”at the end. So that’s what we did- one Dame Blanche, 2 spoons.  After dinner, we stopped at a market on the way back for essentials and turned in for the night (and discovered the roaring motorbikes issue)  

The next day our big event was the NiceCar Tour where you drive a small electric Fiat in a caravan behind a leader through the streets of Nice and up into the hills behind the City.  

Our tour was due to start at 2:00 so we planned to arrive in the neighborhood early and find lunch before the ride to avoid the no lunch between 2:00 and 7:00 problem.  We happened on a cute little cafe around the corner - Les Copains (the boyfriends) and had a perfectly slow-paced meal on a sunny, but breezy afternoon.  What could be better than a Salade Niçoise in Nice? It had truly delicious, but tiny niçoise olives in it.  Sadly I forgot the pic. 

Inside, they had an unexpected feature - the “Art Toilet” 

After lunch, we made our way back to the meeting point for our tour

Our guide was very good - navigating the twisty roads and oncoming cars without losing any of us in the caravan.  I was sure I'd remember his name without writing it down, but I should have known better.  

I was driving so I didn’t take a lot of photos,  but here are a couple from when we stopped at "Fort du Mont Alban", built in the mid-16th Century on top of a hill overlooking The Baie des Anges in Nice as well as Villefranche-sur-mer, Cap Ferrat (one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in France and location of the old Rothschilds mansion), and in the distance, Monaco. (Click on the video to see the vista) 

It was fun driving the little car and gave us a different kind of opportunity to see the contrasting neighborhoods of Nice and beyond as well as some spectacular views of the water. We weren’t confident that the little electric car with only one gear could make it up the steep hills, but it handled the task beautifully.  

Linda had read in a NYTimes article that the Cours Julien, which turned out to be right up the street from our apartment, was an arty, interesting neighborhood, along the several blocks long park Cours Julien.  It reminded us of the old East Village - gritty, arty, some local theaters, some funky shops and an esplanade along the park, lined with restaurants - most with outdoor seating.  One end of the Cour had the lower budget stuff, but as we headed down the hill, there were more antique shops, higher end clothing and fancier restaurants.  

We wandered around for a while, but mindful of the no lunch after 2:00 rule, we landed on a small cafe called Papa Fredo while there was still time. We tried a local beverage - Gambetta Limonade - a carbonated lemonade called Hamoud (not sure if that was the brand or the beverage name - the rest of the label was in Arabic).  The lemonade gets poured over a couple of ounces of fig juice.  Very nice.  

Marseille is famous for its pizza (the port city has alwasy had a large Italian community) so Linda decided to give it a try.  I opted for the "beignets de fleurs de courgettes".- literally zucchini blossom donuts.  They were nothing like the fried zucchini blossoms I'd had in Italian restaurants in NYC.  Much more like a pretty heavy deep-fried donut so I guess I should have paid closer attention to the name.  Tasty enough, but sort of drowned out the zucchini flower with all the batter.  

So thumbs up on the fig-lemonade and the pizza.  Beignets - maybe not again.  

Earlier in the day, I had tried to make a reservation for dinner at a highly reviewed Corsican restaurant called Mina around the corner from our place. I'd never had Corsican food before so that seemed like a good bet. My French is good enough for most travel situations, but I’m leery of making reservations over the phone so I decided to go in person. I walked in and asked for a reservation at 6:30.  I received a scornful look and was told they didn't open until 6:45. but they were willing to book a table.  By now we were pretty used to the late dinner hour, and it was actually more like 7:00 before we got menus. The local diners didn't start arriving for quite a while after that (although there was a trio of after-work drinkers who were carrying on quite the lively conversation - too far away to eavesdrop). 

This was one of the more upscale restaurants on the street, cheek-by-jowl with Tabacs (newspapers, lottery, odds and ends and bar), fast food take away joints, delis, and Dollar Store-equivalents selling the usual hodge-podge of stuff. 

Linda's Pan tomate was nothing like what we expected from our tapas bar experiences in the past - it was enormous.  and covered in prosciutto and parmesan.  

I (perhaps foolishly), ordered the fritti de fleurs haricots  - hoping for a lighter dish at the fancier restaurant than at the cafe at lunch.  Still pretty over-battered, but it was possible to taste the vegetable  

Our second courses were a veal Milanese with green peppercorn sauce for me and "Thon du Copain" - boyfriend's tuna - for Linda.  Apparently the boyfriend liked his tuna breaded and buried in sprouts, beet threads, and cheese.  Beautifully plated, but a bit much.  

Believe it or not, those seemed to be the lighter dishes on the menu.  It's one of those places that has a different menu every night and only a few dishes.  So it was an interesting experience, but not what we’d anticipated.  However, I did take the left overs home and got 2 more meals out of it (scrape off the bread and add more veg). 

During our last visit to Marseille, we had tickets to go to the Calanques National Park - a series of islands, inlets, and fjords between Marseille and roughly Cassis.  However, as mentioned, the Mistral was in full force and it was too windy to go out in the boat to see it.  This time, the winds were calmer and we were able to book the trip out of the Vieux Port.  There were many options - from 2 hours to all day affairs with swimming, kayaking, and champagne.  We opted for the 3 hour trip out and back.  No swimming or water sports. 

The day was lovely and the water was very blue that day, even turquoise in some of the Calanque inlets.  Technically the Calanques are fjords, but they were not the dramatically high steep kind you find in Scandinavia.  Lower, but still dramatic limestone cliffs and out-croppings mostly.  Linda found them not that interesting after a while (might have had something to do with her still recovering from illness), but though they do have a sameness, I enjoyed the trip and the sea.  

On the way back, we went past the Chateau d'If - famous as the prison where Edmond Dantes was held until his dramatic escape in the Count of Monte Cristo (anyone have an opinion on the new series based on Dumas' novel?).  

After 3 hours of wind, direct sun, and spray, we were pretty wiped out so we returned to our neighborhood and got take out food from a local chicken place I had scoped out earlier in the day.  I knew I had the right one because there was a line out the door - mostly mothers on their way home, picking up dinner.  I didn't remember to take a picture, but it was called something like "Poulet Take Away".  Didn't sound promising, but the line told the story. The 2 guys inside were barely able to keep up with the demand.  

When we were last in Marseille, we experienced "Le Mistral".  I'd always imagined that the Mistral was a gentle wind, soft and romantic.  Instead we learned first hand it's more like the Santa Ana Winds gone mad.  In particular, on our visit 11 years ago, we made our way up to the top of the hill overlooking the harbor to Notre Dame de la Gard - a beautiful church with Byzantine elements dedicated to seafarers and the maritime culture of Marseille.  Only the winds were howling and it was all we could do to keep from being blown off the hill into the streets below. We had to hang on to the columns outside in order to keep our feet under us.  Also we hadn't realized how early the church closed so we kind of got the bum's rush out of there (they literally closed the gates right behind us).  We remembered it fondly though and wanted to pay a more leisurely visit without fearing for life and limb.  

You can look up and see the church from almost anywhere near the harbor and from the grounds of the church, there are stunning views of the whole Baie de Marseille. 

The inside is decorated in a maritime theme with small ships incorporated into the walls and other ship replicas hanging from the ceiling.  I had remembered it as a simpler interior, but actually it's quite ornate.  

Once we'd finished wandering the church and grounds, we made our way to the Vieux Port harbor where we boarded Le Petit Train de Marseille - a kind of Disney-esque tram with a fantasy engine - for a tour around the Panier district , the oldest part of Marseille dating back to a Greek settlement in 600 BC.  There are also still some remnants of Roman walls.  Now it's known for its winding streets, art scene, and of course shops and restaurants.  Though the "train" is sort of hoakey, it is well suited to the narrow, twisty streets of the old town so it's a practical choice.  

In one courtyard we came upon a shop dedicated to Petanque - a game that's a cousin of Bocce where players toss their metal balls trying to get as close as possible to the small "jack" ball in the center, while knocking other players' balls out of proximity.  This shop had all things Petanque, including an indoor court - not clear whether it's for demonstration or actual play.  

The neighborhood struck me as kind of a cross between Berkeley and Old France -  a lot of street art, flowers, and wildly disorganized, colorful stuff along the sidewalks and in doorways.  

There's definitely a story here, but who knows what?

As we left the Panier, we drove past the "Cathedral de la Major", a huge church which they claim is the largest in Europe.  

We didn't have time to go inside, but the outside is indeed impressive - and so large you would probably need a drone to get a good shot of the whole thing.  [So I cribbed a photo from the brochure].  

After our exploring, we were ready for dinner on the waterfront.  "Mocktails" have become a big thing in France as well as in NYC.  Linda had a "virgin Planter's Punch"  I decided to indulge though and had a Ricard - anise flavored liquer that you pour into a glass of cold water, making it cool, milky, and very refreshing.  A traditional aperitif in the South of France and in this case, followed by a long-anticipated plate of grilled sardines, another local tradition  

We visited Marseille 11 years ago for a few days before starting a cruise on the Rhône. It was a short visit, but we really enjoyed it and have been saying since then that we’d like to go back. Last time we stayed in the Vieux Port area by the huge marina. This time we decided to try a different neighborhood - the Noailles, which has a more urban feel and a strong North African presence.  We arrived pretty worn out the first night and were very happy to discover a small Iraqui restaurant that offered takeout. It struck me that our little 4-5 block area had a mix of takeout, mid-range, and pretty upscale dining available, all scattered side by side with most of them offering outdoor dining as well as indoors.  

Our apartment was in a beautiful old building, now gone a bit seedy, but the apartment itself was lovely (the family -size birdcage chair was a little weird though).  

View from the window:

Our first day, we were both a little under the weather, but figured we could manage a visit to the MUCEM museum (Museum of Civilisations of Europe and the Mediterranean).  The location at the waterfront was breezy and beautiful on a hot day.  The core structure is surrounded by a "concrete lace" that creates interesting views from inside the building, especially on the rooftop terrace.  

The promotional materials say that "Mucem is unique in that it traces, analyzes and sheds light on the ancient foundations of this basin of civilization, and the tensions that run through it right up to the present day. To provide a forum for exchange on Mediterranean issues."  It was unusually frank about the history of French colonialization of North Africa and the imposition of European civilization on the people living there.  This appalling illustration from an 1830 publication, "Conquest and Civilisation" was a carefully planned piece of propaganda, attempting to claim France's inheritance of Greek and Roman culture as the basis for their superiority (while of course neglecting to mention the advanced culture of the Islamic world of the time).  The discussion of the piece also noted that the flow of the image in the sky went from left to right, emphasizing that it was the opposite of the direction in which Arabic is written. The fort in the background  is meant to emphasize the power of the French military and the "inevitability" of the conquest, while Marianne, the symbol of the French Republic offers an olive branch.  Unlike many other museums I've visited, the irony was emphasized rather than obscured. 

We also visited an exhibit on political art which included graffiti 

And this stark piece

The last exhibit we visited was about fashion designer Mossi Traore, a Malian French artist who grew up on the outskirts of Paris and draws on Mediterranean cultures, sports (especially futbol), and Bollywood.  

I loved how entranced this young girl was with the video about his work.

By then we were out of steam so we made another trip to the roof terrace for a breezy rest and a snack before heading back to the apartment for whatever the South of France equivalent of a siesta is.    

In a lot of French museums, “People with Reduced Mobility (PMR’s)” get in free, along with a companion  As a tourist, I didn’t have the official PMR card, but several of the museums let us in free anyway since I was using a rollator.  However, Linda must have dropped her ticket early on so we had to talk our way into some of the exhibits. As I sat down at our rooftop table, I looked down and noticed this 

What were the odds several hours later in a different spot on a windy terrace? 

On Sunday we said goodbye to Chris and Margaret who headed back to Long Island.  We boarded the train for Aix-en-Provence.  By that time, we’d figured out how to manage the Assistance service on the train and all went smoothly.  We had decided to splurge in Aix and stay at the Aquabella Hotel and Spa which was a real treat.  A lovely spot, situated in the old town, but a very modern facility carrying on the tradition in Aix, dating back to the Celto-Ligurians and Romans who came to “take the waters”.  We passed on the outdoor swimming pool in the blistering sun, but Linda had a massage and I indulged in a muscle-smoothing treatment and a “gommage” session (a body scrub with sugar, followed by a sort of weird hose-down contraption with multiple jets that comes down from the ceiling and looked like something out of a Sci-Fi movie).  As a chiropractor, I’ve experienced a lot of body work in my life, but this was one of the odder sessions. Still it was interesting and refreshing as advertised. 

Our room had a lovely balcony, perfect for morning coffee.  Linda also had a good time playing with the light and trying out a new technique of shooting through the bistro glasses in our room (still a work in progress). 

Mid-day in Aix was very hot so we did our roaming around in the early morning or evening.  It’s quite a lovely town, constructed of pink-yellow stone and built around a series of many squares, most of which at one time had a spring-fed fountain (though all but a few are dry now).  

This one, the Place d’Albertas, is considered to be one of the most beautiful, featuring “regency decoration freely reinterpreting Baroque themes.  

At night, the squares are full of locals and tourists (and probably students - since there’s a University) all eating, chatting and visiting.  Feels like the whole village is having a big party every night.  We ate dinners in town and I have to say the cuisine was not that remarkable (a surprising tendency to over-cooking everything -  a horror in France!), but there was such a lovely feeling that we didn’t mind.  The restauranteurs greeted us with enthusiasm and made us feel welcome.  

The best meal we had in Aix was lunch at the Hotel while waiting for our train.  Linda had a pasta with red pesto, pine nuts, and mesclun and I had grilled bass with soft polenta and beautiful composed zucchini batons made with alternating strips of yellow and green squash.  I really admired the work and precision that went into it.  It as accompanied by a creamy white sauce of a kind that I don’t usually like with fish, but it was spectacular. 

The rubbing, scrubbing, and relaxing accomplished, it was off to Marseille - a 15 minute ride on the TGV rapid train. No napping on that train.  

Waitresses from the restaurant ship at the foot of the Juche Tower

“These five young women are hostesses working on a boat operating along the river that runs through Pyonyang……One interesting aspect of women at work in North Korea is that factories employ only young unmarried women.  They live on site in dormitories with access to medical facilities, saunas and other amenities, existing in a form of self-contained isolation within the factory itself.  Similarly for roles such as hostesses or directing traffic at major intersections in Pyongyang, young women aged 20 to 26 - unmarred and conforming to the society’s established standards of beauty - are selected.”

Gladieu noted that he originally wanted to take a picture of a different man of similar appearance, but was refused permission to do so.  It turned out his guide felt the man was too ugly.  When asked if ugliness wasn’t a subjective criterion, the guide said “No, no.  It isn’t subjective.  When someone is that ugly, he knows it.  If I had asked him to be photographed, I would have forced him to confront his ugliness and caused him to lose face. I cannot behave in an immoral way.”  Gladieu went on to note that he began to understand the “almost pathological relationship to perfection”.  For example, he was never allowed to photograph construction workers because they were standing by incomplete buildings - not yet perfect.  

“In this photograph, I deliberately engaged with the poster in the background - a highly conventional feature in North Korea and also common in the former Soviet Union, and imbued with the full codified language of communist propaganda.  The man, with his slighgtly vacant gaze, poses with the same characteristically proud nationalist stance”

The building of the museum is itself full of contrasting vistas, lines, angles, reflections (Linda disappeared to explore them with her camera).  

Linda took some better ones, but this was my feeble effort.  You can just make out the actual meeting of the rivers.  

There’s a small park at the tip of the peninsula with an ONLYLYON sign to great boats passing up one of the rivers. 

That evening, Chris and Marg treated us to a typical Lyonnaise dinner at Le Grand Café de Negotiants where I tried a typical Lyonnaise dish - Quenelles (a sort of fish dumpling in a broth that tastes like lobster bisque) , Linda and Marg had a sort of beef stew with carrots “2 ways”.  And somehow I didn’t capture Chris’ dish

Best meal in Lyon IMO.  We went to a “fancier” restaurant the next night, but the food was unremarkable except for the presentation of this smoked salmon appetizer:

A “rose” of salmon with  creme fraiche and a tuille of dried octopus ink.  Still the taste didn’t live up to the appearance.  Seemed like the food involved a lot of work, but then was largely over-cooked.  Didn’t live up to the reputation of Lyon as the temple of classic French cuisine.