We found the old and the new in Lyon this month. You can see the “Cube Orange” building (above) that’s in a row of mod architecture at the Confluence, where the Rhône and Saône meet. We happened on a wedding in a square in Vieux Lyon, the city’s oldest streets. And we ate an incredible eight-course lunch with 10 other people—a full house—made by Chef Arai Tsuyoshi and his team at the jewel-box tiny restaurant Au 14 Fèvrier that’s decked in red leather upholstery, dark wood tables, and stone walls. The tributes to Valentine’s Day amore inspires the food—a cream egg in the shell, a savory chocolate boudin concoction, a buttery fish, perfect wine matches, and a dessert of candied rose petals. After the meal we met the chef who was smiling and genuinely kind, even through my rusty stabs at trying to tell him in French about the dishes I savored the most.

Other favorite meals and sights included the pigeon and peas at a traditional bouchon, wine and local art at a wine cave on a narrow stone street, and a salad Lyonnaise with a white cloud of a poached egg before I pierced it to mix the yolk over the greens. We ate cocoa-dusted almonds and Rhum raisin ice cream. It’s our second chance to work here since last summer, and my crush on Lyon only gets deeper.

That’s PFE at work, along with Lyon-based photographer/photography student David Fogel, who was a wonderful assistant and guide who also became our friend as we walked and took the metro in crisscross paths all around the city. (He introduced us to many things from his French perspective, including his favorite aperitif, the “Monaco,” a draft beer made pink with grenadine.)

– Sandy Lang, September 2014

Spent two nights here this summer and got the “complete Trailside” experience. Love this 1930s tavern in rural Prince Edward Island. Candles lit and local pottery and art on the wall. Delicious dinners (local mussels in coconut-curry broth; fish cakes that are just the right plate of hot, cold, crunch; and super-creamy, perfectly plain cheesecake). Wonderful songwriting musicians each night—including Bryan Potvin who was in the 1980s band Northern Pikes (bought his new album and I’m hooked). Sat on the Trailside rooftop at sunset (you actually walk across part of the roof to get to your room), followed the rail-to-trail both directions (a few hundred yards from the door,) played records in our room, drove out to the red beach and fishing towns, bought some PEI potatoes from a farmer to take on to Cape Breton. Thank you, Pat and Meghan (the hosts). We had a blast!

Did we end up going 1,200 miles or 2,000? I’m still not sure. The odometer on the old Alfa Romeo isn’t counting anymore, and I wasn’t either. We were having too much fun. The Ital sports car is a 1988, and PFE had it shipped to Maine by truck. From there, we drove north and east into the Canadian Maritimes. On PEI, we met with friends from Charleston and took the ferry to Nova Scotia and drove up the west coast of Cape Breton to Cheticamp and the Cabot Trail. There we had three days of sea cliffs, blueberry barrens and wind that whipped our towels on the clothesline out like sideways sails. No phone reception anywhere for me, and I didn’t care. Plus, swimming in the super-salty bays around Cape Breton where the water temp. was warmer than Maine(!), around 70 degrees F.

A few more pic’s from the trip:

– Sandy Lang, August 2014  (Trailside image by Peter Frank Edwards)