Bologna, Italy to Lyon, France
March 2
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| Bologna |
Overnight bus from Bologna to
Lyon. I’m leaving earlier than
both I or Annamaria had planned, but her cousin has been dealing with cancer
and, from a distance at least, seems to be weakening. Annamaria wants to get there to see her before her tours
start in a week and I want her to go as soon as possible. It was a very full week in Bologna and
she was a most gracious and generous friend and hostess. The experiences I had there are enough
to fill a month – and she says she wishes she could have done more. New flavors, new sites, new
friends. I am leaving with a full
heart. We have already started to
make plans about “the next time” - either when she comes to New York with her
marathon group or I return to Europe.
I was hoping that she could be the Tour Guide for my group trip to
France in April, but it doesn’t seem very plausible through EF Tours. Karl is hedging politely.
Complex humans are the most
interesting of all the earthly entities.
A genuine person: a good
sister to her cousin who is bearing cancer, she is concerned and willing to do
anything to help: pray for a miracle, be prepared for the “pragmatic”, research
until the early morning hours for the latest breakthroughs of science and
natural herbal medicines. Making
plans to go south by overnight bus to be with her cousin as much as
possible. All this in the midst of
preparing the myriad details for two separate tour groups, one with a very
needy Group Leader who wants to know directly from her minute things like even
“what is the weather like” (as if there isn’t an internet where you can find
that for yourself) and is who bringing travelers on three different flights who
have to be met at the airport, organized and transported to the hotel – just for
a start to the tour week. And in
the background of her life her aging mother and her sisters who look to her for
strength and help. A single woman
who has survived two not so great relationships and who has had an amazing few
hours snatched between spanning years with a magical and honest man. She explains the details of all the
city bus routes, shares detailed historical information as if I’m on tour
myself, and remembers the great trip we had in Rome and Florence when we first
met. She can talk for hours
non-stop but can be quite and reflective.
She is generous - reluctant to allow me to purchase bus tickets or food
or to help clean the house.
Beautiful and striking with bronze skin complemented by her golden coat,
mocha eyes that snap and laugh, she reminds me of my best friend from high
school at times although I’m not sure exactly why. Other moments she is weary, burdened by the details of life,
looking inward deeply lost in thought.
And then the spark reignites and she returns to complex life she has
created. 
Waiting for the bus in Bologna, which is late, I meet Bruno, a French student
studying in Italy and whose girlfriend lives here. He is studying languages and she restores paintings. He had lived in Idaho and loved it, but
has never been to the east coast.
With my TravelingArtista card we should be able to keep in touch. One never knows what chance meetings
bring. After being in a very full
busy from Bologna, we are now sitting in Milano while the majority of the
travelers have switched buses (including sweet Bruno) fewer people have
boarded this bus. It seems I will
have a double seat to myself for a while.
That should be nice as we approach the midnight segment of the ride.
2:17 on the bus and the
temperature screen says it has gone from 11C to 5C. At one point we passed through long and winding tunnels
through the mountains, perhaps about 2 K in places. I sleep a bit and awake to snow on the ground as the drivers
stop for fuel. Sleep again until
we are stopped and police enter the bus.
They speak French so I realize bienvenue en France! Passports are seen and one younger guy
is escorted off the bus. Cap
pulled down and those pants that barely hang onto the hips. He does not seem terribly concerned,
but the bus leaves him in the company of the police and we drive on into the
night.
High up near the top of the window
the moon looks peacefully down.
Suddenly it disappears and the soft glow it gives to the clouds reveal
the jagged edge of mountains. Ah,
to see this countryside in the daylight.
The mountains are so high around us. Lights are sprinkled up the sides of these peaks, obviously
from houses and buildings but high enough to seem like stars in the sky. A light blue double arc on the left is
so indistinct I cannot make out what it might possibly be. Intrigued. If the moon were only brighter … or better, if the sun were
out. Again and again the midnight
orb plays peek-a-boo behind the friendly French mountains.
Arrival should be about 5:30am in
Lyon, but Agnès and Pat won’t be awake until 7:30 then they are off to work by
8:30. Leaving me and the keys to
the house alone. If I don’t get
some sleep during this bus ride, I will probably take a nap then, especially if
it’s overcast and raining as the weather had stated last time I looked. Otherwise I’ll be anxious to explore my
favorite large city!
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| Lyon, France and the Rhône River |
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