Today we walked down the street to check out the nearest laundry, having decided that we’d pay to have it done rather than use the Laundromat. It was closed and we couldn’t get a response to the bell the sign said to ring. Oh well. We could make due another day. We also went to the train station to get tickets for Tuesday to the Pont du Gard, a portion of a Roman aqueduct and a pedestrian and cart bridge. It’s one of France’s major historic sites and a short bus ride from Avignon.
Business taken care of, we were off to follow Rick Steve’s walking paths through Avignon, some of which we had already walked. This time though, we walked beyond the Pope’s Palace up to an arbor at the edge of the promontory that rose above the Rhone and protected the river side of the Palace. Here were great views of the river, the island opposite us (the largest river island in France) and the Saint Benezet Bridge. This is one of Avignon’s most famous landmarks. Two sections of it extend 2/3s of the way across the Rhone. The rest is gone, having been destroyed at least twice. There is famous folk song about the bridge. We walked down and on to the bridge, which also gained us access to the ramparts of the city wall. Now we’re talking. Shooting arrows through the slits at those Holy Roman Empire bastards. Yeah, baby!
We meandered back through town toward the Halles (Market Place), arriving just after 1:00 – closing time. Oh well. We continued on to what turned out to be one of our favorite parts of town, the Rue Teinturiers.
That night we went back to the Place de L’Horlage (central square) for dinner. Connie had the toughest piece of beef we’d ever known and my lamb chops were paper-thin. The ratatouille was mush, though both of us thought the potatoes were good. And, we ordered dessert and digestifs – something we never do. Crème Broolay and a taste off between Cogac and Armangac. Bad as the entrees were, the evening was great fun. I credit the company.