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Tuesday, October 18, 2011

À la recherche des crepes perdus

Pancake in Lyon

It wasn't the pancakes that brought us to Lyon on a sunny October afternoon but, once there, we remembered excellent crepes we had in December, from street vendors somewhere in the old quarter of St. Jean. We thought it would be good to pay them a visit again, as it was just the right hour in the afternoon for some good mood substances. At a crucial junction, however, we chose right instead of left (never a good idea, if you ask me) and we ended up in a different part of the old town. Which, incidentally, had even better pancakes in store (if you believe in photographic evidence, take a look at the picture above this text).

Street musicians

After that mega dose of Nutella we continued the walk in high spirits, happy to amble without a plan or a goal (short on objectives, too). We ran into a brass band in the middle of a square.

Street musicians

Normally you pass by street musicians without stopping, barely registering their presence--even when that is Joshua Bell playing on a $3.5 million Stradivarius in a metro station. But these guys were hard to ignore as they were about a dozen, and played the loudest instruments that there are. Not only that, but they kept jumping, dancing and chasing unsuspecting spectators. They so obviously enjoyed themselves that you couldn't help wanting to share in on the joy.

The repertoire was ecclectic but one of the songs they performed particularly well was that old classic, "Quizas, quizas, quizas." I was so happy to be reminded of it as I like it very much. Of the countless versions that exist I chose the one by Nat King Cole because his performance is so mellow, and his accent very sweet. Here you go.

Mushroom picking


It is a peculiar trait of our mushroom expeditions that they rarely feature any mushrooms. Two deadly fungi and a modest edible specimen was our entire bounty, when we came armed with half a dozen baskets and some extra bags to boot. But while mushrooms were scarce, the apples were aplenty. In the village of Mourex, which was our starting point, there was a festival of apples and many a glass of freshly pressed apple juice was drunk.


A festival is always a good occassion for the local artisans to showcase their craft. In this particular case there was not much craftsmanship required to measure a kilogram of flour, but the scales were wonderfully old fashioned and the flour presumably bio.


Ah, that blessed age when happiness equals a basket of chestnuts! Just look at that proud face...