Avignon, France

We spent the day, Sunday, walking around Avignon, window shopping closed stores, eating too many carbs for breakfast (a whole baguette and a croissant each with buerre et confiture). I observed what I had observed in Paris on my first visit to France in the early 90s with my friend RH. A small, fashionable woman came to the cafe and ordered a café, which was, of course, a .25 oz cup of espresso. She smoked 3 cigarettes, checked her email (a new addition from the early 90s), payed her coin euro and left. We paid 20 euros for our fat tourist bread bowl with a cappuccino that was mostly canned whipped creme. Yes, we picked the first place we found, no it was not a good choice. I hope to trash them on trip advisor, where I serve as associate God. (if I can find the name of the place).
We saw a Toulouse-Latrec exhibit in an old moldy Chateau, the Angladon Museum.


After, we perused the market, Les Halles, and marveled at the beautiful foods: fresh fish, a cooked pigs head, ducks, plucked and decorated with duck heads, so that the buyer will know what bird she regards, wine, and spices, and le fromage, lord, le fromage (cheese). We ate nothing, but bought some apples.

We made it back to the hotel and went to lunch at 4:30. Salads and Chardonnay- not a Rhone wine, but we found one from Gasconne, the region where I went to cooking school last year, a region of exceptional food and wine that is untouched by America’s notice.

We may go to dinner about 9, or just get a gelato and skip it. Another thing I love about Europe. Dinner is negotiable.

About runsailwrite

World traveller, curious observer, quite likely to comment.
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