Inside the Fortress Walls of Avignon. Saturday 5th September 2009.

My internal thermostat is becoming increasingly wonky these days and often sees me running a little warmer than those around me. I liked the freshness of today’s morning; the new season brings change and an unfamiliar crispness in the air. I ate breakfast outside on the terrace while the boys teased me and ate inside in the warmth. They pulled their jeans out of the suitcases this morning too, they hadn’t been seen for a while. Autumn has arrived in Provence.

JR, AJ, myself, and the Mistral winds arrived in Avignon, a good 80 km from home by noon. The view as we approached the city was of an expanse of city walls with squared off tops showing a likeness to fairytale castles of olde. Avignon overlooks the wide expanse of the Rhone River and The Bridge of Avignon built between 1177 and 1185 with only four of its original 22 arches remaining. It is strange to see a bridge end half way across a river.

We began our exploration at the tourist office and met the lovely Stephanie who arranged tickets for us to ride the tourist train around the city to get our bearings. I left with a bag of information including a 500+ page book on the vineyards of the inter Rhone. She was so helpful with information in relation to my food writing and suggested she call a contact of hers at the hotel La Mirande, a member of the leading small hotels of the world, who run an exclusive cooking school in an ancient underground kitchen. Our visit was organised for the afternoon and after being shown around this very special hotel, we discussed the possibility of taking part in a private cooking lesson with chef, all expertly captured on camera by JR. We will await confirmation for Thursday or Friday.

We enjoyed tripping around the city on the tourist train, after which AJ and I sat in the square right in front of the Papal Palace and enjoyed a massive ice-cream. I had mint, choc-chip and every time I have this flavour I think of you Robby, you introduced me to it so many years ago.

We were welcomed at the Papal Palace for a tour also which we completed with our audio guides. We had fun, AJ was in the silliest of moods and I needed little encouragement to join in the fun and frivolity. JR had a nasty fall up high in the ramparts, falling down a very big step, we rushed to his side. He and camera were ok thank goodness, I can’t believe all he escaped with was a scratch on his arm, he was very lucky.

After our tour of the Palace we descended the town to the Rhone for JR to photograph The Bridge Of Avignon in the evening light, it was golden, beautiful and soft. While he disappeared, AJ and I did a tour of the bridge with our audioguides. The Mistral winds were blowing a gale and I felt we might disappear over the sides. As we got to the end of the bridge, which stops mid river, I heard a feint voice calling ‘Razza, Razza’. It was JR over the other side waving his arms. He took a few pics from a distance of AJ and I on the bridge.

We met up again and headed back into town for dinner. While we were having lunch today at a wonderful little place recommended by Stephanie at the tourism office, we noticed ‘Bistrot au Tartines’. This was one of our favourite places to eat in Lyon during our time there; I even included it in my Top 10 favourites of Lyon, in an article I wrote for the Sunday Mail, Escape lift out. My tartine forestiere was topped with mushrooms, lardons, and chevre and was so delicious. I had spoken to the manager earlier in the day, telling him of our love affair with ‘Bistrot au Tartine’, he understood completely. It turned out he had lived in Melbourne and Brisbane, Mt Gravatt in fact. He loved Australia as we love France. He offered me a dessert of our favourite tarte au praline, the Lyonnais specialty but we were on the hoof, he promised to reserve some for us tonight and he did, it was his treat. A few hippy types arrived, pulled up a table and began to play, I just love this place.

The drive home was a long one and we were all exhausted after our long day of discovery, exhausted but happy and glad to be home to our little home in the Provencal countryside.