Hotel Review- Hotel Silky, Lyon

Returning to the city where I completed my Erasmus a few years previous always had the potential to be interesting. Would the GAA team that I “played “for offer me some sort of a magical transfer sum to stay in Lyon forever? Would I run into the same males that tormented me daily when I spent a year (accidentally) living in the drug capital of Lyon? Would low calorie croissants have been invented?

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“Why are you going to France? It’s so dangerous. You’re foolish.”

“Why are you going to France? It’s so dangerous- it’s asking for trouble going there. I know I’ll never go. You’re foolish.”

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Irish GAA teams in France

Je sais, je sais. You didn’t move to France to take up a sport you retired from at the age of twelve. You didn’t even plan to have any free time between becoming a master macaron chef and getting wooed by French romantics. Indeed, I found myself reflecting on these very thoughts as I sat in a Irish bar watching a Gaa match in the hope that I would pick up some skills for my own impending GAA match in Paris the week after.

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