I love Sicily; I hate France

I’m too freshly annoyed by my experience in France to write about it now.  I need to sleep soon and I can’t afford to get all riled up again.  The people in Lyon just seemed sad.  Sad and bored and boring. Everything about it was the opposite of my experience in Sicily.  Friendly people, delicious food, Campari Spritzes, and low prices are not to be had in Lyon.  Previously I’d been to Paris and didn’t care for it, but I thought maybe Lyon would be better.  Maybe it is, but not enough better. When I have more distance from the experience, I’ll tell you about the restaurant where I couldn’t eat the food because they sat us next to the bathroom and I was overwhelmed by the smell of piss.  I’ll tell you about the airport that was worse that the ones in Texas—they excelled in inefficiency and rudeness. The pharmacist, the coffee guy, and several people in security made terrible impressions. But most of all, I’ll tell you about how gorgeous and warm and wonderful Sicily is.  I’d love to hear if you have any French horror stories. I’m happy to declare that I’m Never Going Back.