Sipping a cold drink at the end of a quiet day. Tim and I went for a walk after dinner just to loosen the muscles. Each evening many French people head down to their favourite bar to have a and reflect on the day. I felt like Norm from the Cheers.
Today we are going to Avignon, a city that is known as being the City of the Popes. In the 14th century Pope Clement V and his offsiders fled from Rome and established the Palais Des Papes, and between 1309 to 1377, the 7 French born popes invested huge sums of money building and decorating the Palace, in order for them to live in the manner to which they had accustomed. That last bit is not necessarily a fact, but rather is just mois thinly disguised attempt at a social opinion.
The town is encircled by 4.3 kilometres of preserved stone ramparts, and is considered to be the jewel in the crown of the region of Provence.
Before we talk the short drive to enjoy all that Avignon has to offer, Tim and I will walk down to the Tourist Office to secure some front row seats to the Bull Fights. Dont forget, no one gets hurt at this event. The bulls have real names and are retired out to lush pastures once they can no longer work. Im still not to sure about that, but like political promises, Ill take them at their word. But Sue and
Nostradamus was born of Jewish parents in this house on 12 December, 1503, His mothers grandfather, who was the village doctor and Treasurer of the town, and Nostradamus had the advantage of being well to most people at that time, and went on to be the doctor of Queen Catherine of Medici in 1564.
While in the tourist office, we not only bought front row seats to the non - bullfight bullfight, we also found out that the bulls were being led into the village this morning, led by the local caballeros, cowboys.
Avignon is today , my time, as Im posting late, and we are doing the bull arrival, a trip to the Asylum on the edge of town, and a trip to the seaside village of Saintes Maries de la Mar. Im hopeful of seeing some pink flamingos along the way.
Ive chased down a bit of information about the Bull Festival that surrounds us at the moment, and it has nothing to do with the world of politics as the name suggests, as anyone in any country could understand, for two main reasons. Its all true, and no one gets hurt.
The Carmargue variation sees amateur razeteurs wearing skin tight white shirts and trousers get as close as they dare to the bull, and remove rosettes and ribbons tied to the bulls horns. There is a form
of apprenticeship for these amateurs and until they are they cannot participate. The athleticism required to jump from the arena when being chased by a bull is a highlight of the event.
Today we attended the Abrivado longue, the arrival of the bulls and it was worth the long wait by the edge of the road.
Horse drawn carriages led the procession, followed by a masterful line of white horses strutting up the road with focused proud riders holding a perfect line. Behind them were some bulls, hemmed in by more horsemen at the sides and the rear. It was a powerful look.
After lunch we drove to the edge of town to visit the asylum where Vincent Van Gogh admitted himself for a year, due to concerns for his failing health. While he found the rules and regimented lifestyle stifling, it was his most productive period, and he created over 150 works there, including his greatest masterpieces, such as The Starry Night.
Bull chasing, not fighting, tickets. We saw a bit of bullfighting on a TV in the restaurant last night, and front row seats might see some action . Those bulls can jump into the front stalls
Winding up narrow cobbled streets, its easy to see why Le Baux de Provence is considered one of the most fortified villages in France. The village hangs precariously from the edge of a steep hillside and sits just below the 10th century castle, Chateau de Baux.
