Avignon On Steroids

I have a tense cry. No, I have a TENDENCY (autocorrect thought it could read my mind) to go, go, go when I’m on vacation. It’s hard, maybe impossible, for me to stay inside all day unless the weather decides for me. My daughter experienced this tendency when I took her to Japan for her high school graduation present. We did Kyoto in 2 days, Nara in 1, then Matsusaka, Kii-Katsuura, Shima, and back to Osaka before we both crashed and got sick. She got the flu, and I got a sinus headache from excessive exposure to air conditioning.

I headed to Avignon with the same fervor, and I returned depleted. I would recommend at least a day and a half, maybe two (instead of just one), to do a proper tour of the ancient city and former Roman Catholic HQ. As with most cities I visit as a tourist, I start off with the obvious destinations and then wander off until I’m too hungry to decide on a restaurant, and then I collapse before the steps of the river and offer myself to the wind-swept whitecaps. The one exception in this case was I stumbled accidentally, following a short visit to the Palace of the Popes, upon a tiny restaurant near the city walls and riverbank (and bus stop) that served up a plat du jour of broiled fish, ratatouille, and fresh bread. I doubt I’d be able to find it again.

Avignon is known among French people for its bridge that stops in the middle of the river, because there’s a song about dancing on the bridge that French school children learn. I ventured out on that bridge and entertained the thought of shooting a selfie video of me singing Teresa Teng’s 我只在乎你, because I was noticing a lot of Chinese-speaking tourists, but then I came to my senses and ran from that bridge before I changed my mind.

After lunch, I boarded the bus to travel across the river to Villeneuve Lez Avignon. This area has maybe 10% of the tourists in the old town, and it’s home to what I now consider my favorite monastery, La Chartreuse. Why? Because, unlike other monasteries, Chartreuse lets you go inside monks’ quarters, into the backyard herb garden, and around the entire complex. On top of that, La Chartreuse has resident artists, and some of their works are provocative, others downright hilarious.

With just over an hour left before my train departed, I slogged up the hill behind La Chartreuse to Fort St. André. If I had a day and a half in Avignon, I would’ve spent several hours here, but instead I hustled through the garden and up to the viewpoint from the castle wall. The wind was gusting by this time (20-25 mph?), so I can’t say it was relaxing, but at least the skies were clear and my allergies weren’t killing me.

The quick trip back to the train station got me there with ten minutes to spare, but had read the fine print of the train schedule, I would’ve understood the train was scheduled to be 50 minutes late due to an “act of vandalism.” More on that later...