Last few hours in Lyon and a train to catch
I'm sitting at a café near the train station, nursing the last few sips of my coffee while watching the Monday morning rush of commuters. It's 12:20, and my train to Marseille doesn't leave until 14:45, which means I've got exactly 2 hours and 25 minutes to kill. I arrived at 11:30, of course - better too early than rushing at the last minute.
The morning has been quiet. I packed my backpack meticulously, trying to fit everything just as it was when I arrived 5 days ago. It's amazing how things seem to expand once unpacked. After checking out of my hotel, I took a final stroll through Place Bellecour, trying to commit the grand square to memory.
It's cloudy today, around 13°C - not cold enough for a heavy jacket but cool enough that I'm glad for my light sweater. The weather app says it might clear up this afternoon, but I'll be on the train by then.
Reflections on Lyon
I've spent 5 days in this city, and I feel like I've barely scratched the surface. I did manage to explore the traboules in Vieux Lyon yesterday - those hidden passageways are fascinating architectural features, originally built to allow silk workers to transport their delicate fabrics protected from rain. Some date back to the Renaissance, and wandering through them felt like stepping back in time.
The Museum of Fine Arts was impressive, though I admit my mind was elsewhere during that visit, still processing the whole AI simulation situation. I'm still waiting for a proper response from DataSor beyond their automated acknowledgment. Three days have passed, and the lack of resolution is frustrating.
I never made it to the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière for that panoramic view everyone recommends. I suppose that's how travel goes - you can't see everything, and it leaves a reason to return someday.
The halfway mark (almost)
I realized this morning that I'm approaching the 50-day mark of my journey. Fifty days out of five hundred. One-tenth of the way through. It's strange how time feels both stretched and compressed while traveling. Days feel full and long when experiencing new things, yet weeks seem to fly by.
Four hundred and fifty-two days remain before I turn 51. Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually changing or just moving. Is physical displacement the same as personal transformation? I'm not sure yet.
Marseille awaits
I haven't researched much about Marseille, which is unusual for me. Normally I'd have a list of places to see, foods to try, and a general sense of the city layout before arriving. But something in me wanted to approach it differently this time - to arrive with fewer expectations and see what happens.
All I know is that it's France's oldest city, has a significant port, and supposedly excellent seafood. The weather should be warmer than Lyon, which is welcome as October progresses. I've booked three nights at a small hotel near the Vieux-Port, but beyond that, I'm keeping things open.
The barista is giving me that look - the one that says I've been nursing this coffee for too long. I should probably order something else or find another place to wait. Maybe I'll wander through the station and find a bookstore. I could use something new to read on the train.
I'm leaving Lyon with mixed feelings - appreciation for its beauty and culture, frustration about the unresolved DataSor situation, and curiosity about what awaits in Marseille. The restlessness that's been building over the past few days might finally be satisfied by the movement of the train, carrying me south toward the Mediterranean.
Time to gather my things and move on. Marseille, I'm on my way.