When you leave home to go away for two weeks, it seems like you should have quite a lot of time to do and see what you want to. You imagine long, lingering days moseying up and down cobbled streets, eyes stretched ahead or up to see and soak in all the richness around you.
Sunday, October 4 was our last day before taking the train back to Paris. Part of me was wistful, part of me anxious to get back to my beloved Paris. That Sunday before had been a perfect gift of warm sunny, crystalline skies and thoughts of miles and miles of exploring happily were drawing me back.
But, before we left, we had a full day ahead.
First, we set out for L’Isle Sur la Sorgue, a small village which on Sundays promised great markets, restaurants and the opportunity to seek out a treasure or two. This town held for me a distinct similarity to the towns along the Delaware that I frequent, among them, Lambertville and New Hope. There was an instant familiarity and charm. Beyond its obvious beauty at this point, there are opportunities here to imagine the activities of centuries gone by – milling which once occurred, including wheat and silk. We had just a fine time “milling” about and soaking up the sites of a 21st century day.
Some towns just say: Storybook
and a lovely lamb lunch riverside
reminds me of Lake Como………
Once we left our delicious and generous lunch, we headed off to visit the source of the iconic red wine, Chateauneuf du Pape (there are white varieties as well). While in this day and age you may only associate this name with premiere wine making, there is, once again, a ton of history here, going back to Pope Clement V in 1308, who moved the papacy to nearby Avignon for 70 years.
It never ceases to amaze me how vast a knowledge is required to say you know about wine. It’s really an encyclopedic undertaking to become even semi-proficient. And, then, I always find myself thinking, once you get the current-year vintage under wraps, you start all over again – the grapes, the terroir, the processes, the vintages, the vintners, the lore…….. not to mention what’s “in” at the moment. The world of wine and therefore your knowledge of it, shifts, however slightly, like the universe, every year.
I confess to have never even heard of the wine known as Chateauneuf du Pape until introduced to it many years ago on a ski trip (what, me on a ski trip?) to one of the coldest venues imaginable with my brother-in-law and family to The Balsams in Dixville Notch, New Hampshire, perhaps about 15 years ago. Most of what I remember of that trip was trying to walk between buildings without perishing in the freezing cold, blowing snow and biting wind that makes this spot quite legendary for lovers of such weather conditions.
I don’t remember what else I did on this trip but I distinctly remember sitting down to dinner in a very large and crowded room which somehow in my mind, resembled a large prep school cafeteria. My brother-in-law, John suggested we order, in what I believe to be a phrase akin to “a nice little bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape” as a suggested-warmer of our souls. I recall thinking something like, “that sure sounds like a nice name!” The wine was lovely and a divot was carved into my minuscule dictionary of wine notations.
Well, since then I have internalized just how much I don’t know about wine and began to try to familiarize myself with that world. I tend to view this undertaking as something akin to the study of food of the world that is just immediately shadowed by the great wines of the world that were born to reflect them. Even that view is only minuscule because the way the category of imbibers known as general-population-consumers of wine generally speaking, doesn’t often reflect the food we are eating unless you are somewhat of a sophisticate or a purist. Most of us run out to the wine store, secure our favorite bottle of white or red and return home to set it out for an aperitif or dinner, mostly depending on the entrée which is about to be in the oven.
Beyond the wine scenario and the legendary industry of the monks all over this continent, one must once again sing the praises of the Catholic Church for their astute and uncanny selection of real estate. Herewith the “summer home” of the Popes of Avignon, most notably, this was built for Pope John XXII beginning in 1317.
the Rhone in the background
this is, believe it or not, the beauty of what I found of the “after-harvest”:
this is what remains of the chateaux built for Pope John XXII, second Pope to reside in Avignon
a good shot of the Rhone side
this shot reminds me of the poppies at the coliseum in Rome – I love to see wildflowers thriving up against the ancient ruins; it is like an affirmation of the continuum
in town:
a local resident 
how we do build curved buildings….
this would be the local version of setting out a pot of flowers on your doorstep
and here, an artist’s depiction of the Village
Drawing from the Album Laincel that dates from the second half of the 17th century (source Album Laincel)
We did a little tasting and more than a little ogling here. There is something quite enchanting about this spot and I could feel myself wanting to stay longer. Just walking around the village drew you in, not to mention the splendid views from every single vantage point. Chalk up another history point to study.
Avignon and Orange were our next destinations. I wondered to myself if, when we got upon the bridge itself, would it be inappropriate to join hands with whoever else might be there at the moment and engage in the “l’on y danse” portion of the song – at least a little jig of sorts! I imagined myself doing this but George thinking this was just too much. Actually, we met three lovely ladies from New York City who we chatted with and who took some nice pics of us while we were in the favored spot. I suspected they might have been nuns as they described their desired destinations and study points.
Perhaps this was the first time in our entire trip that I began to feel somewhat rushed to fit in all that we hoped to see in this part of southeastern France.
First views of Avignon – I couldn’t help be reminded of the Ponte Vecchio and all of those famous Arno views in Florence.
The “commune” of Avignon really deserves its own post here. But, I am honestly afraid that, a good 2 weeks after I arrived home, I really have to finish this selection of blog posts, before it is too late. I have already begun feeling like it is time for another trip over and that is, well, good or not good, depending on your perspective.
I think I fell in love with Avignon. Its visual impact is really quite remarkable and if you are anything like me you stop and say to yourself, are there really this many incredibly beautiful spots in the world that I have never seen before? And then, will I ever see even a small fraction of all the places I want to go?………….
This is definitely one of those places where the camera does not do justice. This is a vast and incredible place. I won’t go into a history lesson here – we can all read up on our own. Suffice it to say, this is a spot not to be missed if you are in the “neighborhood”.
As with so many of those very special places one visits, we arrived quite late in the day with an agenda longer than the daylight. And, just as we began to absorb the enormity of everything there was to see, the sun began to take leave of us and dusk quickly approached.
On the bridge of Avignon:
the famous song memorialized in the museum 
where the camera just doesn’t do justice:
Ok, so I feel just a little compelled to interject here that among these glorious artifactual structures, we came upon a delightful selection of iconic shops. And, so, as I do in all of my favorite venues, I said to myself, oh, and so, I could live here……LOL
Hermes – juxtaposed right into the unforgettable landscape of the city which began with the Romans in 121 B.C., naming it Il Avenio. Once again, those Romans – they had just the most exquisite eye! How can we ever possibly thank them?
As we approached the entrance of the Cathedral, we were heartbroken that it was less than 5 minutes past closing time. We took in all that we could before it began to get dark.
As we walked down into town, we had a little while to pass by the real shopping district, which is lovely. As we traversed, we serendipitously came upon the Hotel D’Europe. Of course, I could not resist these inviting views. And, just as I had said, less than a half hour before – what should we do about dinner? Our question was answered. And an unexpected delight it was!
This is where you realize the simplest of dinners can be the most wonderful. It was Sunday evening and we inquired about eating in the restaurant. We were informed the restaurant was closed on Sunday evenings, but we could grab a bite to eat in the bar. It turned out to be one of the best dinners of the trip – and, may I just say – never underestimate the possibilities of a simple chicken club sandwich! I would return here just for this meal.
this lovely previously unseen flower was in a vase on the piano in the lobby – looks to me like a large white allium??
the haunting beauty of dusk here:
this stretch of wall in and of itself was remarkable:
the perfect roses at Villa Gallici
Sadly, we ran out of time and never got to Orange. On Monday, we returned to Paris, but not without a bucket-full of amazing memories of our first foray into Provence.