Grenoble and Lyon

My visit to Grenoble proved to be very relaxing and invigorating. I stayed with Garry, Gisela, Georgina, Thea and Siv in a trilingual household (French, Swedish and English) at a small distance from the town itself. Despite the insistence of most, if not all, of the family members that Grenoble was perhaps not the most interesting or prettiest city in France, it exuded a certain charm of its own, wedged between two large mountain ranges (at least, they seemed large to me, although they were not deemed impressive by the locals). One of the pleasures of my prolonged break from hostel accommodation was to arise shortly before noon and enjoy a breakfast that included beautiful views of the snow-capped mountains, which appeared to be so very close.

Grenoble is home to possibly the most unusual sight I’ve visited in my trip so far: a nuclear reactor used for scientific research. While a nuclear reactor seem quite an ordinary place to physicists, I was quite excited to see what it looked like and I wasn’t disappointed. Much like a spaceship, the plumbing is external and visible, recalling a passage by Douglas Adams concerning airports, where “the plumbing was exposed on the grounds that it was functional, and the boarding gates were hidden on the grounds that they were not.” The abundance of bright-yellow fences and machines reminded me of Half-Life 1, but there was no resonance cascade or face-hugging aliens. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera and although it is forbidden to take photos inside the reactor, I wish I had taken photos of the airlock and contamination detectors at the reactor entrance. As luck would have it, when Garry and I went to leave the reactor I was not contaminated and I was allowed to exit.

Apart from the reactor, Grenoble is also home to an amazingly long stretch of pizzerias that peer over one edge of the river that runs through town. The word on the street is that they are merely fronts for organised crime, which is entirely believable as the sheer number of pizzerias would seem to be unsustainable. Above the pizzerias, a cable car leads to an old fortress perched above the town. In all likelihood the fortress provides scenic views across town to the opposing mountain range, but I did not feel impelled to find out.

A much better view of Grenoble and the surrounding mountains was to be found at the top of one of the many surrounding mountains, such as Chamrousse. The journey to this peak weaves through a number of small French villages, clean and bright in their dazzling coats of snow. Taking a slight detour into the countryside, we arrived at a large and elegant chalet overlooking expansive snow-covered gardens, set against the rising foothills. This chalet is where the revolution was first conceived, and it is now home to the “Musee de la Revolution Francaise” (Museum of the French Revolution), which I did not enter.

Looking up from the gardens to the towering mountains above, it was clear that they would provide an exceptional view of both Grenoble and the mountains that encircle it. The view from Chamrousse did not disappoint, with a spectacular panorama of the tiered mountain ranges that don’t merely surround Grenoble, but almost threaten to swallow it entirely. As the sun began to sink behind one of the countless peaks, the sky became an illustration of pastel shades, from soft pinks and purples to glittering oranges and golden yellows — a stunning palette that is not visible from the town itself, as the mountain ranges rise too steeply.

In addition to providing fantastic views, these mountain peaks are also ideal for all manner of snow sports. For only the second time in my life, and for the first time in about 10 years, I took to the slopes with a snowboard. Despite the best efforts of Georgina, Thea and Garry, the morning was spent busily falling and sliding down the slopes on my torso rather than my board. As a result of one of my many falls, I slid face-first across the snow and grazed my cheek, giving me the appearance of having been involved in a bar fight. But by the afternoon I had grasped the fundamentals and was able to gently weave my way down the piste. It was an exhausting and fantastic time, and at the end of the day it was such a pleasure to have a hot chocolate mixed with Chartreuse at one of the many bars at the bottom of the ski runs. I didn’t emerge completely unscathed, however, as later that evening my right foot was unable to bear any weight and I was reduced to painfully hobbling around on one foot, much to the amusement of everyone. Thankfully a good night’s sleep was a sufficient remedy.

It was a quiet pleasure to reside (if only briefly) in such a busy, friendly and accommodating household. The closer I approached my impending return to hostel accommodation, the stronger I felt such appreciation for what could be called an ordinary family life. I am deeply indebted to the entire McIntyre family for their hospitality, their generosity and their company. Unfortunately, all too soon it was time to leave Grenoble and return to Nancy and the Vosges for Christmas.

I returned to the north via Lyon, where I spent most of the day wandering around town, admiring both the beautiful painted facades adorning so many of the buildings, and the many narrow tunnels and passageways used by the French resistance. Clearly visible on the skyline, a brilliant white church sits atop the tallest hill and looks out across the town, providing panoramic views that were admired by a surprisingly large crowd of both tourists and locals. And as the friendly lady at the tourist office informed me, Lyon is also home to a renowned astronomical clock — this was the first such clock I have seen during my journey and it did not disappoint. In this age of software and advanced electronics it is quite astonishing to see a mechanical system accurately track the paths of the constellations across the sky, and the clock is also spectacular, being quite ornate and intricate in appearance. As the sun descended behind the beautifully painted buildings, it was time to leave. I did regret not having more time to spend in Lyon, but I was also excited to return to Nancy and head to the Vosges for Christmas.