Vous entrez en preskil

Pretend you're walking on the red footbridge. You're heading east, leaving Vieux Lyon and entering the presqu'île, the peninsula (literally: "almost island") that juts narrowly down from the north, lying in between the Rhône and the Saône and coming to a head at the Confluence, where the two rivers converge. The presqu'île is very narrow, so much so that if you stand on one of their wide boulevards (say, Rue Grenette, the thoroughfare you hit immediately if you cross Pont Maréchal Juin, the broad white bridge just north of the passerelle. My apartment, by the way, was located in between these two bridges) halfway in between the two rivers, you can see both—and straight on to the other side—Vieux Lyon and Fourvière to the west, easily recognizable by its glowing 2/3 Eiffel Tower (known as the Tour Métallique, but more on that later) and basilica, and the Plaine to the east, easily recognizable by its sprawling and, frankly, unprepossessing commercial district, the Part-Dieu, home to what is easily the ugliest skyscraper I have ever seen (more on that later, too). So you're heading to the presqu'île (someone had such a keen love for the geography and logistics of the passerelle that they spraypainted "VOUS ENTREZ EN PRESKIL" on the right-hand passerelle railing, oriented towards the other bank, in large red gauzy letters). The first photo is what you see. The second is what you see when you turn left, to the north—the hills of the Croix-Rousse. The third is what you see when you turn right, to the south—the stony Pont Bonaparte, with the unseen Confluence somewhere off in the distance, beyond Pont Kitchener, beyond the Autoroute du Soleil, beyond the maze- and UFO-like Perrache train station/bus station/metro station/auto thoroughfare. Perrache is an eyesore and more or less unnavigable. An untended, long-abandoned rooftop garden remains on top.