2018-05-11 - Avignon

Street Art

After a leisurely coffee on Rue de Republic, we head toward one of the many city gates which face the Rhone.

Today, we crossed the Rhone to the opposite side of the walled city. There is a burification of the river at the bend where the Palace de Papes is located, with a large island in the middle. On the far side of the island lies Villeneuve, the” new” city outside the all of Avignon.

On the bridge, to the south all the petite, river cruise ships are docked. So different from the gigantic cruise ships we think of in the good ol’ US. On the far side of the river, are the old barges that are homes to many. Upstream, on the island, are bars and a piscine (pool), as well as a large campground. Tons od folks are in small campers, with bikes attached. There are some tents. This is the same as we saw when we were in the Loire valley. More camping goes on than I think realized. Not just gypsy’s. 

We take the path less traveled and head toward the home barges, instead of the giant park/campground, well maintained walkways and grounds. The street nonetheless, is magnificent and deserted. A long row of ancient maple trees lines the way, with charming, ubiquitous French homes behind them.  Each barge has a “yard” to tie up to.  Some yards are well maintained, with flower beds and vegetables growing, decorative paths leading up to gangplanks. Others or overgrown, intentionally or not, giving the owners seclusion from curious tourist like us.  Thru the foliage I spy a gentleman on the deck of his barge shirt off smoking a cigarette, talking on the phone and soaking up the rays.  We meet no other walkers and only dodge one or two cars. The birds are loud and chirpy here. The sky azure and the sun warm for our light jackets.

We’ve made a circuit of sorts and decide to return back to the walled city at the next bridge. While the first bridge was full of pedestrian traffic, this bridge is the A-7. Just imagine, I95. But this is France and people walk. So, there was a safe and barricaded walk way on either side for us to cross safely.

Serendipity has taken us to the Gate of Puy, close to our favorite bistro, Ginette & Marcel. The tiny square is packed, so we opt to sit inside the cool interior, with high-high ceilings and have a tartine for lunch while their selection of carefully curated French songs plays in the background. I splurge for a Coke Lite (cold caffeine anyone?). The special of the day is spinach mixed with chevre’ and topped with chorizo. All the tartines begin with a thick slice of farmers bread. Yum. To celebrate what feels like my first day of vacay, we share a raspberry tart crafted so beautifully – slightly sweet with the tartness of the raspberry’s tickling our tongues. 

On our way home, down Rue de Lice (not what you think it means) is La Compagnie de Chats.

I have been waiting for it to open since we arrived in Avignon. We duck in and are advised to wash our hands. A wonderfully decorated space, with a whole bunch of cats to pet, while you drink your afternoon tea or noisette. The place is packed. We do not order but get some quality petting time in. On our way out, we meet a large tour group from Japan enter. One of my regrets from my visit to Japan is not going to the owl bar we saw while rambling one day.

In the afternoon, we nap, read, play our instruments and write. Tonight, we will have a nice dinner out as tomorrow we must arise early for the bus to Nimes.

Heading out around 6, on a Friday night, nothing much is open yet. We have chosen a restaurant close by at Place des Charme, with high ratings on Trip Advisor, and arriving only to find out the are closed. A lovely woman apologizes at the door that the owner had “some things to do”, so they will not be opening tonight. It’s like that here, not like the US where it’s capitalism all the time. Almost all of the locally owned businesses have a c’est la vie attitude – we open late, we close early, maybe we will not open at all if there is a good soccer match today or a family function. I love it. They give zero fucks.

Dinner is near Les Halles on a pedestrian street, with a Prix Pre menu. I have my first foi gras since arriving – creamy, rich and delicious. Harvey has the salmon tartare. A leisurely dinner on the streets with an entire bottle of wine. Finally, I feel like I am in France.

On the way home, tipsy, we have real interactions with 2 toddlers, who’s parents are drinking and dining.  They are sunning about in the square and know the prerequisite “bonjours, high fives and Bye-byes.” I may not speak French but I am learning to speak grandma.