From Paris we caught a train to Lyon, where we were greeted by Ri's delightful stepmum (I don't know if he is too old for that term to apply, but I don't want to be saying Ri's dad's wife a trillion times). She drove us to his dad's house, the address of which, as far as I know is Bend Number 12 of The French Alps. Everything here is quite wonderful. Beautiful views. Brown cows with bells. Many kinds of yummy local cheese. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with strings.
Sorry any minute now I'm expecting Julie Andrews to swirl past the window, picking the wild flowers.
Ri's stepmum took us up a Gondola today and we went for a mini hike (hike in my vocab, stroll in Ri's) and had a picnic in the mountains. And this is their backyard. I could not help but think that by comparison there is nothing to show someone from this area in Brisbane.
I can see it now, 'oh you come from the alps? nice area! couple of good mountain tunnels but you haven't seen a tunnel until you've seen the one in Brissy'.
Oh and we had dinner with Ri's stepsmum's family, her son, her sister and her mother. And they are delightful. One of Ri's new stepbrothers (of which he has accumulated 3) has the most bizarre accent when he is speaking English, almost American/Canadian, but French. The other two lovely ladies spoke a little bit of English, resulting in conversations running away from Ri and I in French. Everyone here has been very kind and friendly! And when in doubt just say "we" or "merci."
Back to people being friendly even on our walk/hike/stroll today as people went past they said Hello! I almost fell over in shock the first couple of times it happened. Compared to Paris!
Night and day!
Night night!
Happy Birthday Chris! Ri loved his birthday gift!
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