The Sun Actually Shines in Lyon

Today was a much better day. The sun even made an appearance… until 3pm, when it remembered it was France and started raining.

I spent the afternoon with my friend Jen, who flew in from San Francisco. There's something magic about lifelong friendships—Jen and I have been friends for about 30 years (give or take a decade-long hiatus where we were just living our lives). But somehow, every time we're together, we pick up like we were just chatting yesterday. Women are lucky that way—we can deep-dive into personal truths within minutes of saying hello, no warm-up required.

Jenny from the block

We're both morning people, which is probably why we agreed to meet around noon and ended up meeting at 1. Lunch was at Chez Mamie—French Onion soup and a proper Lyonnaise salad. Very classic.

French Onion Soup

After that, we wandered. No plan, no pressure. It was crowded but beautiful, and we just let our feet decide where to go—until they eventually gave up on us.

I'm still not convinced Lyon is the place for me, so I've booked a few trips and am planning more this summer to keep looking for the right fit. I'm not a spontaneous person by nature… but apparently, we're trying new things now.

We stumbled into a silk scarf shop on our route. Lyon has a deep-rooted history in silk making, and it's one of the most special parts of the city's story. Back in the 1500s, it became the center of France's silk industry—thanks to King François I—and by the 1800s, silk production here was in full swing. The weavers, known as canuts , were incredibly skilled artisans, and the work they did was both technically complex and artistically stunning.

In the back of the shop were some of the original design plates and an old loom —seriously mind-blowing to think about how much time and detail went into creating these fabrics by hand. The plates were stunning.

Silk Plates

Then I came home to a scene I definitely wasn't expecting. Right in front of the door to my building, an elderly man had collapsed—like, literally blocking the entrance. From the way he was slumped, I honestly thought he might've had a stroke. Fortunately, a couple of young guys had already rushed to help him.

Since stepping over someone in medical distress felt, I don't know, morally questionable , I turned around and took Copper to the park for a quick bathroom break. When we got back, the paramedics were there, and the man was upright and conscious—which was a huge relief, because the scene I'd walked into looked grim. I'm guessing they took him in for observation, but it looked like things turned out far better than they could have.

What really stayed with me, though, was the kindness of the people who stopped. Two women had joined the effort, and one of them took off one of his shoes to cushion his head.

Wherever that man is tonight, I hope he's okay. And to the strangers who jumped in to help—you're the kind of people who make the world feel a little less overwhelming.