The mornings are slow in Avignon. The mornings are slow in France, I should correctly say! It seems to me that no one seriously starts their day before 10am. The stores may say they open at 10, but in reality, it means the store owner is just arriving and is having a cigarette or a coffee standing at the doorway. They perhaps are sitting at their little table and chair set up out on the narrow path, people watching. Once I had figured this out, the days in Avignon were relaxing and the Provencal rhythm of life definitely appealed to this traveler.
Around 10.30 each morning, I departed my apartment and headed out in search of a coffee, in particular a cafe creme. Only tourists ask for a cafe au lait, I was reliably informed and I took their advice. The pleasant Spring weather made for sitting at a small cafe outside a delight. Even if the mistral was slight and the temperature a little cool, the blue sky beckoned. My schoolgirl French proved OK (and with lots of smiles and 'pardon' and 'merci's) I managed each time to order what I actually wanted. The Grand Cafe Barretta proved to be one of my favourites in Avignon. It was only a five minute walk in the morning from my apartment.
The cafe had its tables set out in a small square in front of their store, shaded by a large plane tree. Aged stone buildings surrounded the square next to Cafe Barretta, their wrought iron Juliet balconies and heavy doors encouraged me to sit and contemplate - who lived there? Who lived there 200 years ago? My musings could go on forever but were interrupted by a hot cafe creme and croissant. The flaky pastry crumbled and the soft dough centre stretched out between my fingers, as I pulled it apart. The buttery stickiness stuck to my fingertips and I couldn't not lick them clean.
After such delights, lunch was always later in the day than I would usually have back in Australia. Many of the small, locally owned stores close for lunch. "How incredibly civilized" I thought. From about 1 to 2.30 pm in the afternoon, these store owners/workers would go home or meet friends no doubt, for a 'proper' lunch. As I walked around Avignon each day, I saw time and again how everyone sat for a convivial lunch. No one was walking the streets with food in their hands, they were seated and served. I did note that the men of Avignon were not against ordering and eating salad for lunch. A glass of wine was indulged in. Of an afternoon the favourite treat seemed to be gelato and again, French men didn't seem to have their masculinity threatened by consuming such treats.
Each street in Avignon I walked down had numerous little cafes, bistros and restaurants to choose from for lunch or dinner. I eschewed the main, central square of Avignon (far too touristy - always avoid a restaurant that needs to have pictures of their food out the front on boards or on the menu's!) for the smaller streets where the locals frequented.
The centre of Avignon, known as Place De L'Horloge, is quite large and it leads up to the Palace of the Popes. On both sides of the square are lots of bistros and restaurants, their red awnings stretched out over the sidewalk to reach dining areas set up on the square. Large plane trees provide necessary shade in the Summer months. Here you will find lots of Italian influences but also the run of the mill range of burgers and pizzas, their large signage covered with pictures of their menu. I sometimes wonder if that diet is all they think tourists eat; they may be right.
On one particularly cool day I made my way into the Lou Mistrau bistro at the Hotel De L'Horloge for a coffee. The coffee warmed me but the bistro lacked in atmosphere with its bland decor and expected menu.
At the heart of L'Horloge is La Belle Carrousel - a quite glorious Victorian era restored carousel that has two levels of seating. White prancing horses with green and purple livery and leather saddles would entrance any rider! Next to the horses, little carriages decorated with aqua blue dolphins and green seashells for the less adventurous. The entire carousel is covered with glowing golden lights which at night, must be a treat to see.
Around the corner from the Grand Cafe Barretta, next to a small 14th century church, was a bistro which beckoned to me. The sun was shining its provencal warmth upon me and having walked what seemed miles exploring, I was keen to find somewhere quaint and shaded for lunch. The bistro - L'Osteria with their woven cane bistro seats, tables with black and white chequered cloths and enticing day's specials on their handwritten board lured me in.
I sat at a table in the shade and breathed in the wonder of the location. Thick ivy grew up over the walls of the Church and on the creamy coloured ancient stone houses behind me, their shutters thrown open to catch the slight breeze. Old trees lined the pedestrianized pathway from the square into the centre of Avignon past the bistro. Fat grey feathered pigeons scurried around on the pavement and under the tables around me. They definitely were well fed.
Mandatory fresh bread in a basket and a carafe of water arrived on my table as I ordered the day's specialty - veal with Parmesan on a bed of mushroom risotto. A glass of Pouilly-Fume. I had the place to myself as I ate and at times, I paused to simply lean back and savour the flavours and peace.
