We drove to our favorite parking spot in all of southern France, an underground lot across the street from the ancient walls of Avignon which has actually marked spaces that are reasonably large (on a French scale, and pretty miniature on an American scale), and contrasts with the non-underground lots on the same side of the street as the ancient walls, which are characterized by haphazard and claustrophobic parking of tiny cars in even tinier spaces. Three years ago we came to Avignon and headed into one of these lots, and drove down a narrow lane between two rows of cars, seeking a spot. The lane between the cars was so small we had to pull in the rear-view mirrors to get past a few spots, and in some places it was touch-and-go whether we'd make it at all. The lane was probably an eighth of a mile long, and in addition to there being no parking spots available along it, it turned out to be a dead-end, with no place for turning around. So we had to back out of it. I can handle France's narrow roads, high speed limits, and other craziness. But I am just not comfortable with the French method of parking, which seems to involve grease to get the car in, and no fear that the car will get scratched up. So I drove straight to the parking lot, which was almost completely empty, and very cool and spacious.
Avignon was even hotter. We'd only gone a few feet when we wanted a break. We stopped for ice cream, and even after finishing it we were still hot, hot, hot. In April. After ice cream, we rode the carousel, which is faster and goes for longer than the carousel in Paris.
In the square opposite the Palais des Papes (the palace of the popes, where the popes used to live when they were not living in the Vatican) we headed up a set up stairs to catch a view of the city, and discovered that they lead to more than just an overview -- they lead to an entire park, with a lake, a grotto, and a viewpoint even higher up with just magical views of the city. As we climbed, the temperature dropped. We thought it was just because we were catching the wind up there, but in fact the temperature was just dropping as evening came. The views were incredible, over the river and of the Pont d'Avignon made famous by the children's song. We could see that there was a nice path along the ramparts over to the bridge, and headed down a long spiral staircase to get to the level of the top of the ramparts.
Alas, at that level was an iron gate, and it was locked. We headed to the ground level, walked to the end of the bridge, and there was an admission fee to walk on the bridge. Considering that the bridge has been reduced to only a third of its original length, and we'd just walked all over the city for free, paying five euros each to walk a few more meters to the middle of the river seemed like a ripoff. So we headed back into the city center, took another ride on the carousel, and slowly made our way back to the parking lot, exactly on time according to our plans to get Benjabelle to the TGV station on time for their return train to Paris.
I took the ticket to the automatic cashier, and it spit the ticket back out, saying it couldn't read the electronic strip. Much consternation ensued. The second automatic cashier in the lot was totally out of service. No one answered the "press here for help" button. No one was staffing the glassed-in office at the front. We headed up, a bit worried now, and not anywhere near as happy with the parking lot as we had been when we first parked there, to the hotel up above. The clerk at the desk collected four euros from us and let us out. We got to the TGV station in plenty of time.
Sweet Annabelle cried when she said good-bye to Ria, and then we were all crying, and Benjamin was making jokes that Annabelle would be back the following weekend, or even the next day after work. In all, it was a great vacation with them and we really loved their company.
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