Sur le Pont d'Avignon

The heart of Avignon - for the tourist at any rate - still stands within its medieval walls. Pierced by over a dozen gates, this walled core stands in a right-angled bend of the mighty river Rhone. And the heart of this core is generally located in the nortyh-west, overlooking the river. This was the site of the very first settlement in this area, on the slopes of the Rocher des Doms, which remains a pleasant wooded area. It is on the southern and western flanks of this rocky outcrop that you will find the Cathedral, the Papal Palace, the Place du Palais, the Petit Palais (which now holds a collection of medieval art), and the remaining spans of the Pont Saint-Benezet.

This broken bridge is actually quite an engaging visit, largely due to the excellent informative audioguide you get free with your ticket (€4.50). It gives a lovely view back to the town's ramparts and battlements.

On the Place du Palais who will immediately be confronted with the old papal fortress, the Palais des Papes. Home to seven popes in the 14th-century (and then two anti-popes during the Great Schism) this former monastery was lavishly redecorated and extended at great expense. Today only a few fragments of this decor survives - notably in the Chambre du Cerf where the popes would dress surrounded by worldly frescoes of hunting. Yet once again the free audioguide strives to impress upon you the luxury amidst which these Holy Fathers feasted. Entry is €10.50, but gives a good comparison to the holy sites of the Vatican.

The formal hert of the city spreads south along the Rue de la Republique access, past the former Mint, the grand Theatre, the Hotel de Ville and many open-air cafes. When I visited in early July the theatre festival was in full swing, and the squares were thick with street entertainment.

There are a lot of museums in town. As well as the medieval art in the Musee du Petit Palacae, there are more modern works in the Musee Angladon to the south. This private collection may be guilty of folly in having disposed of Picasso's 'Les Demoiselles d'Avignon' in the '30s, but it does contain the only painting dating from Van Gogh's stay in Provence still in the locality.

One place you must ensure you don't miss out on is the atmospheric Rue des Teinturiers away to the east. This pleasant tree-shaded path alongside a water-wheeled canal is now Avignon's most alternative quarter. The street is home to North African restaurants, bamboo tea house, ethnic clothing boutiques and second-hand book stalls.

Quick Tips:

The best suggestion I can make, is to keep an eye open for the Avignon Passion booklet. I npicked mine up at the main Tourist Information Office on the eastern side of Rue de la Republique. However, I believe that you can get these from any of the sites in the booklet. These are a great money-saving aid. Rather than paying a set fee to see a set list of attractions, these are free. You then pay full price at the first attraction you visit. Once stamped, you then get pretty hefty discounts at any further places you go to. So for instance, entrance to the Palais des Papes is discounted from €10.50 to €8.50, the Pont Saint-Benezet from €4.50 to €3.50, the Musee du Petit Palais has its €6.00 entrance fee halved, as does the Musee Calvet. The Musee Angladon is reduced from €6.00 to €4.00. It also covers sites across the river in Villeneuve-les-Avignon, such as the Fort Saint Andre (€5.00 to €4.20), the Tour Philippe le Bel (€2.00 to €1.50) and the Musee Pierre de Luxembourg (€3.00 to €2.00). There are also discounts on walking tours, river-boat cruises, and tours of the wider Provence area. I cannot recommend Avignon Passion enough - it is tailored purely to your interests rather than trying to force a set itinerary on you!

Visiting as I did in early July really seemed to bring the best out of Avignon. As I walked around you could not fail to notice that the town was all geared up for its annual theatre festival. Grand pianos were played on street corners, passing children were lured into Wild West shootouts by exaggerated cowboys, walls were several layers thick with show posters. In general it resembled a smaller, better-mannered Edinburgh festival. The streets were busy, but you could amble through without having to run the gauntlet of persistent flyer-hander-outers. One image that will stay with me is of a white-faced mime in gaudy golden robes taking a break, sat at a pavement cafe with a coffee in one gloved-hand and a cigarette dangling from red-painted lips. If ever there was a photo I wished I had taken!

I give one example of a lunch stop. However, those on a budget might already be balking at the prices of the attractions, even with the discount booklet mentioned above. In which case, there is a supermarket on the Rue de la Republique (Shoppi) where you can stock up on picnic essentials. Or there is a store front just outside selling a sandwich, a dessert and a drink for a mere €5.00. Get your food there, and then head up to the Rocher des Doms. Sit beneath the trees and listen to the tinkle of the fountains, enjoying a great view over the Rhone to the Fort Saint Andre in Villeneuve-les-Avignon.

Best Way To Get Around:

Surprisingly, Avignon is well provided for in terms of free parking. There is a site to the north-east of the town, and another carpark across the first channel of the river on the Ile de la Barthelasse. From the latter it is just a walk across the Pont Edouard Daladier to reach the town.

The train and bus stations are located just south of the city, by the Porte de la Republiquq. The train station is literally just across the main road. The gare routiere is to the east, past the Ibis hotel and across another road. It is somewhat hidden underground, but clearly signposted. There is a second train station out on the southern outskirts - this is the futuristic TGV station, where France's famed (and more expensive) express TGV services call. There are normal train connections to the TGV station, but your best bet is catching a bus from just outside.

The walled town is not fully pedestrianised. It is too big for that. However, it is certainly pedestrian friendly, and easily walkable. Indeed, the main north-south axis of Rue de la Republique which connects the train station to the Place du Palais is closed to road traffic for half its length during the festival.

After a full day traipsing around monuments and museums in a strange city I tend to prefer a set menu and a sit down rather than just a sandwich on the fly. As such I can certainly recommend La Medina, a funky little North African place with some funky North African food.

I was attracted by the board outside, advertising their €11.00 Formule du Jour. For that price you get two courses out of:
Entrée: Salade des Crudites, Tabouleh, Soupe Chorba, Soupe Hirira
Plat: Assiette Grillade Royale, Tagine Poulet et Limon
Dessert: Glace, Patisserie Oriental, Fondant au Chocolat.
Now I love North African food. I think my holiday in Morocco in 2004 was the trip in which I consistently ate the best for an entire fortnight, so I needed little persuasion to sit down and order tabouleh, and the tagine poulet, with a 50cl bottle of water to go with it.

I sat in the sun. Rue des Teinturiers is a great little street towards the south-east of the walled city, and I really urge everyone to search it out, even if they are not eating. This street is scenic and vibrant and quite counter-cultural. It is a winding narrow way (one car wide - if that!) alongside the Sorgne canal, where dyers used to work. The canal is still dotted by bridges across to chapels, and an old water wheel. The other side of the street has a whole range of trendy little restaurants, second-hand bookshops, bamboo-fronded tearooms, ethnic clothing boutiques, and even the odd theatre. They all spill out into the road so you have to weave between sari-swathed mannekins, trestle tables stacked with books, jewellery stalls and the chairs of diners. This was the case with la Medina. Inside were frescoed walls depicting a Moroccan scene, but I prefered to sit under the shade of parasol and tree across from the blue and white Islamic-tiled shopfront amidst a cluster of wobbly tables and chairs with vividly-hued cushions and mats (and carpets on the wall). The owner was here and there, smiling and joking with his customers, with a ready flash of his teeth and an even readier laugh.

It wasn't long before my toabouleh came out, a mix of bulgur wheat with chopped mint, parsley, tomato and red peppers. It was mildly spicy, with a lemon juice tang that set me up for my main course. The tagine was served in a tagine (the conical-lidded bowl after whom the dish is named - much like a casserole). This was an entire breast of chicken in sauce, complete with around a doxen plump green olives. A side dish of couscous was served to help mop up the piquant sauce. It was very tasty, and it was quite a meaty chunk of bird that I got for my money.

In total my bill (including water) was €13, which was reasonable for what I got. I would not hesitate to recommend this place to anyone with a love of North African cuisine, or to return there again myself. Yet even if you do not, certainly do not miss out on the atmospheric Rue des Teinturiers, a shady world away from the staid sun-blasted monuments at the north of town.

When one thinks of the Popes, one thinks of Rome - the Vatican, St Peter's, art and culture, a spiritual home for the noblest of Christendom. Yet even there there are passages linking the Papal Vatican apartments to the defendable redoubt of Castel Sant'Angelo. For much - dare I say most? - of its existence the Papacy was less about being the spokesman for God's rule on earth, and more about earthly and temporal power itself. Stalin may have scoffed "The Pope? How many brigades does he have?", but in the Medieval period the Popes held sway over kings and princes, could command all the armies of Europe, and could distribute the riches and income of the Church's many many estates as he saw fit. The Pope was the middle age's one superpower, and the greatest game of all was jockeying for position and advancement. It was a squalid, sordid endeavour, hidden beneath a cardinal's vestments.

It was in 1309 that the French Pope Clement V tired of the infighting and feuding of the Italian clerics and nobles in Rome as clans such as the Orsini and Colonna jockeyed for position. Dragging the Papal Curia with him he decamped to Avignon, to reside in the Dominican monastery there. Six popes followed him, enlarging and grandifying the monastery, which was soon transformed into a Papal palace, the Palais des Papes. This was the 'Babylonian captivity'. The power of the Italian clans fell away; conversely the power of French families came to the ascendant. All Clement V's six immediate successors were French-born. The French kings also kept a close watch on the popes, building forts across the Rhone at Villeneuve-les-Avignon. Whether this pressure worked to keep the papacy under the thumb of the French monarchs is debatable; what is not debatable is that their petitions to declare the Knights Templar heretical were successful. The ensuing seizure of the Templars' lands and treasure greatly enriched the king.

These were dangerous times. So it is perhaps not surprising that the popes' 'palace' is actually a right old fortress. The view from Place du Palais is of a 14th-century Gothic castle, all battlements, crenellations, machicolations, cross-shaped arrow-slits and high blank walls. This was a place of refuge, and was actually beseiged at points. All that softens the grim outline is the pale ash-coloured stone used in its construction that seems to glow in the sun, and the two eye-catching pencil-shaped towers that project over the main gate.

Inside you pass through the ticket office, where you leave any bags you may have. Entry is €10.50, or €8.50 with an Avignon Passion card. You get an audioguide with your ticket. First sight is the Cour d'Honneur. I could not take in the expanse of this courtyard however, as it was filled with a stage and raked seating for the festival. The way leads you under the scaffolding holding up these tiers, and into the Treasuries, where the riches of the pontifical court were hidden in floor pits. You also get an idea of what they spent their booty on - building the palace, waging wars, feasts, decoration and clothes. A small fraction was even spent on books and religious observances!

The Salle de Jésus gives an overview of the Avignon popes. After the death of Clement V there was a two year interregnum whilst competing claimants feuded and campaigned. Eventually John XXII was proclaimed pope. At 72-years old he was meant to be a stop-gap; in actual fact he lived another nineteen years, the longest-serving pope of the 14th-century. Benedict XII commenced the rebuilding of the lavish palace, and Clement VI bought the entire city of Avignon from Queen Joanna of Provence - in a deal that also absolved her of murdering her first husband! Innocent VI attempted to mediate between the English and French crowns during the Hundred Years' War; his successor Urban V was less even-handed, and made financial concessions to the French while blocking any marriage between an English prince and Margaret of Flanders. Finally Gregory XI returned the court to Rome following the impassioned pleadings of Catherine of Siena.

(The story doesn't end there however. French cardinals, angry at seeing their Italian rivals back in the ascendant, refused to recognise Gregory's successor, and elected their own Avignon-based popes, Clement VII and Benedict XIII. The latter was beseiged in the Palais before leaving it to his nephew; he himself fled to exile in Spain. Also at this time moderates tried to reach a compromise by electing ANOTHER pope. Thus there were three 'popes', a time known as the Great Schism.)

Continuing from this informative section of the audioguide you can peer into the Chamberlain's Chamber (le Chambre Antique du Camérier). It still smells of wet plaster. The Consistory Hall is a massive bare room, though displays try to point out that this austerity is nothing like its heyday, when it would have been lavishly decorated. Enamelled tiles from the floor are exhibited. Scant remains of frescoes survive, originally by Simone Martini, whose Maesta survives in Siena's Palazzo Pubblico. Another Italian, Matteo Giovanetti, was responsible for the frescoes that still survive in the Chapelle Saint-Jean off one wall. Every inch of space tells the stories of the two Saint Johns. You are also able to look over the gardens, a luxury in a town. These would have held vegetable and herb plots for the kitchens, ornate garden areas, and the papal menagerie.

Through the relaxing cloister you come to the Grand Tinel, a massive dining hall, where the pontifical banquets were held. The roof originally would have been midnight blue speckled with gold stars, and the crockery, cultlery and serving dishes silver or gold. Favour was determined by how close you sat to the pope. A connecting passage leads to the kitchen. A central octagonal flue would channel out the smoke from countless fires. The audioguide gives some ideas of the amount of food that would be prepared for a papal coronation - countless oxen, numberless sheep, haunch of venison after haunch of vension, side of bacon after side of bacon, geese by the cartload, and the odd thousand chickens.

From here you are close to the Pope's private chambers. These are the only rooms where any extensive amount of original decoration survives, to give a glimpse into the lifestyles of these medieval magnates. The Popes' bedchamber has bottle-green walls, traced with a veritable jungle of vines. Birds and wildlife peep out. Caged songbirds would have added to the bucolic atmosphere. Beyond, the Chambre du Cerf (Chamber of the Stag) shows more worldly pleasures with many hunting scenes - hounds running down deers, falconners, ferrets, children climbing trees. The main image though is a group of men fishing.

The great chapel is a bare vaulted space, which compares poorly to the smaller frescoed chapels upstairs. Continuing into the 'Palais Neuf', rooms describe the later history of the palace. Following the end of the schism the palais was home to a papal legate who governed the surrounding lands (the Comtat Vanaissin) in the Pope's name up until the French Revolution of 1789. The palace was the scene of a massacre and was used as a prison, a barracks, and a stable by the French state up until 1906.

For one last treat, climb up to the ramparts. A narrow way will follow the edge of the roofline around the Cour d'Honneur, and up to one of the little towers, overlooking the front of the palace. There is a cafe here, but for my money the best thing is the view over the stately heart of Avignon. You can see across to the Pont Saint-Benezet as it projects into the River Rhone, and sideways to the Petit Palais and Cathedral.

Really, the Palais des Papes is the heart of Avignon. It is the most notable monument, and takes up a large amount of space within the walled city. From here, for most of the 14th-century, the Christian world was ordered. Today its echoing chambers and walls bare of decoration give an impression of spiritual tranquility. However, as exhibits and the few scraps of embellishment that remain show, it was actually the height of decadent luxury at a time when the vast majority of the population worked the fields for their lords and masters. The Palais des Papes must have echoed, not with the footsteps of the faithful, but with the roar of drunken laughter, the clink of silver knife on golden platter, the bellowing of exotic animals in the pope's private menagerie, the chink of coins and the sly whisper of conspirators. It is hard today to imagine those scenes, all too common when Avignon was the heart of the Christian world. However, a tour of this mighty fortress-palace reveals a different side to the papal office than the lofty vaults of St Peters and the etherial Michelangelos of Roms. This is the seat of a papacy whose concerns were most assuredly temporal.

The Musée Angladon is well worth a visit whilst in Avignon. This discreet building holds the remains of the art collection of Jacques Doucet, a man who reinvested the profits of his early 20th-century Parisian fashion house in buying works. His purchases were not necessarily 'great'w orks, just works he liked and enjoyed, and as his tastes changed he sold parts of his collection off and reinvested them in new artists. His keen eye and deep pockets served to encourage and support a range of artists in the bohemian Paris art scene, from Degas and Manet to Picasso and Modigliani. It was his descendent Paul Angladon and his wife Paulette Dubrujeaud, artists themselves, who set up this museum in their home town.

Notably, despite his residence in Arles, only one Van Gogh painting remains in Provence - and it is displayed here. 'Railway Cars' shows Vincent's characteristic playing with colours, the carriages blue, yellow and orange against a mint-green sky.

However, a clear trick was missed with regards to Picasso. This collection once housed the Spanish artist's 'Les Demoiselles d'Avignon', a shocking. blocky work of naked women with deformed faces. Unfortunately this was sold in 1937, and is now displayed at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. (Incidentally, the 'Avignon' in the title is not a direct reference to the town; instead it refers to a street in Barcelona, notorious for its brothel!). There are other Picassos still on display here. His 'Reverie' in the first room is a disturbing sketch. It depicts a scruffy man, hands stuffed in pockets, looking down angrily at a naked, anonymous woman, her tits and bush and thighs visible, but no face, arms or feet - nothing that would in fact reveal her identity. Is she alive, is she dead? As a penetrating self-portrait, this reveals Picasso as a worrying individual indeed! To the right hangs Modigliani's 'Portrait Of A Woman In A Pink Blouse' - bored-looking, impatient, one of his last works.

The second gallery (where you will find the Van Gogh) has works from many famous names. Aix-le-Provence's Paul Cézanne is represented by a 'Still Life With Pitcher', painted at the house of the famous Doctor Gachet. 'The Rabbit' by Manet is dead and hanging. Some of Degas' ballerina sketches are also displayed. The same theme is seen in Forain's 'Abonnet en Coulisse' / 'Le Foyer de la Danse'. I preferred the small image next to it, 'La Buveuse D'Absinthe' by Felicien Rops, a coquettish evening-gowned girl with elbow-length gloves and a fan being observed by two worthy-looking gentlemen.

One final piece is a lovely Alfred Sisley work: 'Winter Landscape In Louveciennes'. A white path, framed by bare brown bushes and grey trees merging into a grey sky.

Upstairs are reconstructions of the two studios of M. Angladon and Mme.Dubrujeaud. There are also parlours stuffed with objets d'art belonging to the collection.

The collection is not a huge one, and can be reduced solely to the two downstairs galleries if rushed. However, even if not more than thirty works are displayed, they are works of great beauty by a plethora of famous names, tribute to Jacques Doucet's wisdom as a buyer. Notably, the only Van Gogh painting in Provence is displayed here. Entry is €6.00, or €4.00 with an Avignon Passion card.

At first glance one might think "What's the fuss?" The Pont Saint-Benezet is a narrow pedestrianized bridge. It is not particularly high. It is not particularly grand. It does not even go all the way across the river, and only three arches remain jutting out into the water. Ah. But this is a *miraculous* bridge.

The river Rhone has been both friend and foe to those who lived along its banks. It watered Provence and its vineyards, it stretches north providing an easy way into the heart of Europe for Roman armies, and for goods and commerce to come back down. Yet it can be furious, unpredictable, its floods capable of carrying away men, livestock and towns in its rages. It is now tame, but for centuries those that depended upon it also feared it.

It was also unbridged. Until the time of Benezet however. Legend has it that this simple shepherd boy was working in the hills when he had a vision. A command was attached - build a bridge across the might river at Avignon. At first the townsfolk laughed at him, they thought he had been (in the words of the audioguide) "touched by fairies". However, he proved that God was on his side by picking up a mighty boulder and carrying it into the water to start work on one of the piles of the bridge. Today Saint Benezet is revered as the patron saint of architects.

That is the story anyway. What is the case was that until the 12th-century the Rhone could not be bridged until much much further north. Upon completion this bridge all but guaranteed the wealth of Avignon, as it was the safest crossing point for many miles (not completely safe however: in icy weather people had a tendency to skid off the edge!). The arrival of the pontiffs from Rome in the 14th-century further enriched the city. The Rhone was then a border. The papacy resided in Avignon; the forces of the French crown kept a suspicious watch on them from their forts across the water in Villeneuve-les-Avignon. To cross the bridge was hence to cross the border.

All this is described by the free audioguide you get on admission. It is actually fairly hard to find the bridge from the centre of town by the Palais des Papes. Follow the signs down through a winding maze of streets to the Porte du Rhone gateway. Once outside the walls you enter through a tower, from where the first arch of the bridge spans the busy road that rings the city.The entry fee is €4.50, or €3.50 with an Avignon Passion card. The audioguide is very informative; I ended up staying an hour on the bridge, when you would think that you could see all there was to it in ten minutes.

Firstly you cross a draw bridge. From here you are on the bridge proper. A small chapel is devoted to St Nicholas, patron saint of the boatmen whose livelihood depended upon the Rhone. Stairs also lead down to an under-chapel, devoted to St Benezet himself. Here you can also step out onto one of the lozenge-shaped piers. Back up top you can walk across the cobbles (wear thick-soled shoes) to the tip of the bridge. The remainder of the bridge was carried away in a 16th-century storm - looks like Benezet's canonization was a touch premature!

From here you get a marvellous view back along the bridge's length to the town. Above the walls you can see the tower of the cathedral and the crenellations of the Palais des Papes, all hewn from the same harmonious pale stone.

The audioguide also tells the story of the nursery rhyme. "Sur le pont d'Avignon, l'on y danse, l'on y danse..." ("On the bridge of Avignon, they all dance, they all dance..."). You would think this would be a dangerous pursuit - the bridge is quite narrow, the only guardrails are modern, and the surface is uneven. Well, it turns out the story of the song is as complicated as the story of the bridge. There is a piece of medieval music about the bridge of Avignon, but it sounds more like a cross between a monkish requiem mass and Greensleeves. The song came to prominence only in the late 19th-century as a music hall song. And even then the words were different. Apparently the dancing took place '*sous* le pont d'Avignon' - *beneath* the bridge. On its way across the Rhone the bridge forded the Ile de la Barthelasse. Today this wooded area (and site to free carparking) could be mistaken as the far bank of the river. Allegedly it was underneath the arches as they crossed this river that unsavoury inns for an unsavoury clientele kept unsavoury hours - think 'Oliver Twist' and you won't go far wrong. It was here that the underclasses danced, whilst waiting for their next victim to cross... Mind you, these days they *do* dance sur le pont - as evidenced by the number of reluctant school groups coerced into holding hands and ring-a-ring-o'-rosy-ing around...

It is a strange kind of tourist attraction, the Pont Saint-Benezet. It is a bridge that goes nowhere, that gained its fame from a misheard lyric about highway robbers. Yet it is an interesting diversion, largely due to the highly informative audioguide, and it gives great views back to town. For the best view of the bridge itself however, climb up to the Rocher des Doms park behind the cathedral. This tranquil area of shady trees, water features and ducks give wonderful (free) views over the forts and towers of French Villeneuve across the water, and the remaining arches of the miraculous bridge as it stands like a pier against the Rhone's flow.

Slightly higher up the Rocher des Doms, the wooded rock that forms the northernmost point of Avignon, the cathedral overlooks the Papal Palace. Yet a greater disparity would be hard to find, despite their uniform construction of pale stone. Despite its greater elevation, the cathedral of 'Notre-Dame des Doms' (Our Lady of the [Bishop's] House) stands in the shadow of the pontifical residence below. Who woudl fancy being the bishop of Avignon when your next-door neighbour is no less than the Pope?

It is thought that a church of some description stood on this spot from the 4th-century onwards. Following destruction by the Saracens it was rebuilt in 1111. At that point it was a plain unadorned Romanesque edifice - pretty through its proportions. Later generations saw the need to add superfluous ornament to it however, probably to compete with the neighbours ('keeping up with the John XXIIses'). The rebuilt spire holds a 4.5 tonne statue of the Virgin Mary fashioned of gilded lead. Worse, inside some bright spark decided to add opera-house-style baroque balconies down its length. They really do not suit.

It was during the French revolution that Avignon lost its papal independence. The church was used as a prison. It was only some 40 years later that it was reconsecrated by the rather aptly names Monsignor Du Pont.

The cathedral contains no great works of art. Items of note include the pontifical throne, and the tombs of Popes Benedict XII and John XXII. Also buried here are 159 archbishops and cardinals.

There is nothing really to detain you at the cathedral. It does have a nice gift shop however, filled with the best selection of postcards I saw in Avignon. All the same, there is little to distract you as you climb from the Palais des papes to the restful cool of the Rocher des Doms park.