When we got to Lyon, we couldn't find a map anywhere. We had some basic directions to the hostel, but we usually bought a map in the train station in each new city. But in Lyon, we couldn't seem to find one anywhere.
So, we made due with a tram/metro map posted at a tram station. The walking directions on the website said it was about a thirty minute walk. Thirty minutes into the walk with our packs murdering our backs, we limped gratefully into a tourism office that we stumbled upon. The lady at the desk circled the location of our hotel and told us the best way to get there. We took a break before heading back out and picked up a couple of brochures for things to do in Lyon. It took us about thirty more minutes to get to the hotel, and realized ecstatically that our room was a private double with our own bathroom! When we heard that we had our own room, Carrie literally teared up. We were so sick of strangers (especially after the rude ass in Nice who refused to turn the air on at night because he "might get sick"). When we saw the bathroom, it was my turn to nearly cry from joy. There was a giant, deep tub with a curved headrest and arm supports and a glass bottle of blue bubble bath. It was such a change from the leaky, tired bathrooms at the hostels we'd stayed in. That night we walked a little way to get some food, but the area that our hotel was in seemed pretty grungy and dangerous, so we stayed in that night.

The next day, we went to the train station and reserved tickets to Marseille and Barcelona. We'd learned our lesson about waiting too late to make reservations. After that, we decided to have another American Day. We went to the supermarket and bought picnic food and candy and fruity flavored Schweppes and watched the Olympic Games all day in our private room with the air conditioning on so cold that we had to huddle under our blankets. It was amazing.

The next day we explored Lyon by foot. We passed through the squatter park in our neighborhood where a ton of homeless people lived and crossed the bridge to Old Lyon. We walked through the streets and decided to have lunch in a nice café where they offered three courses for 12.50 euros. I had a hot goat cheese salad, steak frites, and tarte pomme. Carrie had spicy French sausage, steak frites, and dark chocolate mousse. It was delicious and very cheap! After lunch, we went to the Museum Gadagne and Guignol. Gadagne was super boring, and there were chaperones in each room that scolded us for humming and not going through the museum in the proper order. Guignol was incredibly creepy and we only walked through a few rooms before chickening out and going up to the gardens. But we couldn't find them, and this waiter was staring at us as if to say, get out of my café area. So, we left and continued our walk through Lyon. We walked back across the river toward the other end of the city, intending to go to the Parc de la Tete d'Or, a very cool free stop recommended by our brochures. We had no idea when we set out just how far the park was. It took us over an hour to walk briskly there, and we collapsed on the grass when we arrived and read for an hour or so before we had enough energy to move on. The park was absolutely amazing. It stretched forever—huge trim green fields with shade trees filled with nappers and families playing games and a sparkling blue lake filled with paddle boats and ducks. We strolled through the park and met their tame deer and saw their terrifying emus. We went to their FREE zoo and met their giraffes, monkeys, lions, elephants, crocodiles, and zebras. And then we wandered through the old rose garden and envied all the bike riders because we knew it was almost time for us to walk back to the hotel. It was getting dim out when we began to head home. After about forty-five minutes, we sat down on the bank of the Rhone and watched families feeding the swans, one of which was black. Forty-five more minutes, and we were back at the hostel, exhausted.

The next day, we boarded a train to Marseille and slept the whole way there.