A practically bursting-at-the-seams Peugot 206 speeds us into the back alleys of the old section of Lyon. Cobbled streets separate two major rivers, the Rhone and the Saone...
Today, I’m fresh out of the Rhodope Mountains, where we rode like mad shopska-salad-eating-bulgars for five days while scouting itineraries for next summer.
I feel like a collector of Paris secrets, wandering the cobbled alleys with my bestie, a sack on my back that Henri keeps loading with stuff until it’s bulging and heavy. So glad to have a new friend…