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About Lyon

Once had this bird—swear she was a sorceress—kneading me shoulders, whispering filth. Thought I’d died and hit the jackpot. But then—ugh—this one time, bloke stank of garlic, hands like sandpaper. Made me wanna puke, angry as a dragon with a splinter. Nearly leapt off the table screaming, “I am not an animal!” Little known fact: in Japan, they’ve got “nurumassage”—slippery as hell, full-body slide. Sounds bonkers, don’t it? Reckon I’d try it, though—dwarf’s gotta live a little.

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The main street, Rue des Fleurs, is the heart of it all. It smells like aged perfume and fresh pastries combined. You walk past the odd little cafes—oh man, there's one on Rue du Soleil that serves absurdly good croissants. Then you hit Avenida des Rêves, where you can vibe with local art and some overheated debates about love and kink on split seconds.

Tornado and Hail Hit Famed Châteauneuf-du-Pape Vineyard La Crau