Arriving in Lyon was a snap, considering all the things we went through before with the train, luggage and dirty looks. This was time to be in the care of someone else, was very soothing and gave me a rest I needed. While waiting for our caretaker to arrive at the train station, I thought, "It's really time to relax now, vacation here I come".

     That someone else was Love Eneroth, a Swedish boy, I met while I was on tour in Sweden a couple months ago. Love (pronounced Louv ) now lives in here in France, is pro for Antiz Skateboards (antizskateboards.com), and we have been in contact ever since we met (mostly my none stop emails raving about coming back to Europe immediately!) Off the Metro and opening the enormously large door (with a pull style handle, but push to open, which tricked me a couple times) Love mentions that he doesn't really live at this house either. "I will be staying on the living room, with you guys", he giggles. Wondering how one house guest, can invite other houseguests... we meet our main resident flat roommate, presented with our best behavior, of course. Loic Benoit is a photographer for numerous euro skate magazines, and also owner of Antiz skateboards. He says it fine to stay, and to make ourselves at home. Stepping into the living room with 20 foot high ceiling, and floor partially covered with mattresses and blankets, I have a chuckle knowing there will not be a bit of hardwood showing by the time all of us lay down our gear.

     Quick note about this house: second story apartment, 5 beautiful rooms, on the corner of the block, each room with fireplace, floor to ceiling windows and all accessable down this large hallway, where at the end was a tiny kitchen. This place was a GEM, and only 1000 euros a month (about 1250 dollars)

     The next day provides us with great weather and was a Sunday, which for anyone who skates, is the best day to get out and pump your stuntwood... even in Europe. Also for an added treat, joining us was Ali Boulala who is living here in Lyon, and happens to be good friends with Love since they are both Swedes. One thing that is not common in the US is the use of Mopeds or Scooters here in Lyon, which provides quick transportation in these little streets, and easy parking for any area.
     Ali owns this really fresh looking Vespa Scooter, and with a couple others, plus a couple cars, we have enough vehicles to travel comfortably. The day quickly came to an end and Marty, Mike and I plus others finished our session at a wonderful city-owned tree planter thingy. This was a 2 foot slanted piece of marble joining to a flat area on top, which enabled you to grind, slide and pop your skateboard on the bank.
     Enjoyable as this may sound, we were in a crowded area, and I have heard rumors of these so-called French Punks or "French cunts" as Ali would put it. From his description, these velour jumpsuit wearing Frenchys, would just fuck with people for no reason... basically because they were bored. Plus being young skateboarders and on the street, made us a prime target for these jerks. Though lucky for us, no major run-ins with these bumbs, other then the one time Marty got a light tap to the back of the head as he skating by.

Moped Time///

     Breaking his board earlier, Marty was skating my board, which was fine, but seeing that we were close to the house and we had some time before we left, I offered to head back to the house and get him another board, so I can skate mine, plus this giving me another option to ride this moped, which looked extremely fun. Directions from Love were easy, "Wear your helmet, only law". Seems simple, so a silver helmet and 50kph (kilometers per hour) straight path to the flat I went.
      Once picking up the extra deck, and accessories, I prepped myself for the ride back. Slight problem though, it was a one-way road going toward the apartment, meaning I needed to head another direction back. So steering in the least dangerous direction, I find myself directly on a four lane main street, which was the exact thing I was trying to avoid. Deep breaths soared through my body as I raced in-between cars, stopping at red lights, and constant stares from the other Mopeders. After a couple wrong turns, old-woman sideswiping sidewalk rides going the opposite direction of traffic, I rejoin everyone at the spot again, ironically to shaken up to skate. Definably one of the scariest things I have done in my life coming from a guy who has never ridden or been on a motorcycle before. Quite priceless.

     Lyon after that day was a breeze literally. Temperatures almost freezing allowed us to never leave the house, making it mandatory to wear sweatshirts indoors. Alis place was fun to go, but the a big screen TV sucks cause no matter how nice the display was, it was still all in French, dammit.

     We skated one or two days from the week we stayed in Lyon. One these days we skated at this bank spot (similar to the Sunday spot) with a neck high white embankment, which was fun to roll up and down on. Not a security guard ever approached us, but much funnier, was that we were harassed by three young French girls. Almost like the velour jumpsuit wearing "French cunts" these little girls were straight out of hell. Coming over they at first seemed nice," You from Lyon" or "Do you talk French?" etc. As soon as the novelty of us being new wore off, these girls were trying to steal cigarettes, jackets, or anything that was ours. At the point that we were leaving, they had resorted to throwing rocks at Mike, which was more annoying then any Security Guard I had ever encountered, kind of wish we would have just gotten kicked out.

/// "No parle vouz francais"

     A prime example Lawlor's greatness was in France, because when it came to the French language, Mike had mastered two phrases, one being "Bonjour". So often a French person would approach us with a question for directions and Mike would automatically perk up with a large smile on his face. This familiar smirk meant he could finally use some of his French in a normal situation. With all of us staring at Mike, the askee would assumable be awaiting his answer, which ironically was "I don't speak French" in French, of course. This went on for countless times during our stay in France, until the last night when it came to a stop. The same thing happened as before, but when Mike responded with his catch sentence, the askee informed us that he was saying, "YOU don't speak French!".

      Saturday night at Midnight was departure on the train to Barcelona (which was all we could get) All of us were dreading this train ride, cause it arrived at 9.00am in the morning on Sunday, which meant we would have to ride all night. This doesn't seem harsh, but the connections at 4.00 and 7.00am made it nearly impossible to sleep, plus the two seat chairs that was hard to sleep in. But once the sunrays beamed down on our haggard little eyes, it all seemed clear; we were done with our traveling and ready to stay in Barcelona for one entire MONTH... ahhhhhhh. Now the vacation really starts.