Rest in Avignon (France)

"The man who has begun to live more seriously within begins to live more simply without" - Ernest Hemingway

Avignon is in the south of France. The older part of the city, and where all the tourism exists, is contained within one continuous medieval wall. This wall looks like you might imagine. It was made of old stones, beaten by erosion and time, and every 50 to 100 meters, a watchtower arises. My campground is right outside this wall and over the wide and swiftly running Rhone River; a convenient location for exploring the area for a few days, but, not exactly “camping” in the way most Americans are used to - more like tailgating. The campers and tents are packed together as if they are the last open spaces on the face of the earth, and efficiency is the primary objective for survival. Moreover, campfires are as foreign to them as using English:

The French and the English Language:

France is the only country I have been through thus far that has shunned the English language. Most European countries, and even poor, corrupt North African countries like Morocco, cater to English speakers. In doing so, they also cater to the rest of the world, as English is the international language. I didn't make it that way, it's just the way it is, but France refuses to either believe this or accept it. They only use French: announcements, signage, general conversation, it doesn't matter, their stubbornness is all encompassing. Am I being hypocritical? - I don't know French, why should they know English? The answer is an intelligent no. Like I said before, French is not the international language and English is – a simple reality.

As I was saying, the campground is compact, which takes some getting used to, but, in their defense, is also in close proximity to the city center. This is perfect for me in Avignon. I am able to take a ten minute walk to the central part of town where everything necessary is located, and also walk around outside the city walls alongside the river. The town itself is wonderful. Cafes are located all over; on main streets and in narrow back alleys. The streets are mostly cobbled which, in my mind, is as European as it gets, and the people are great – besides choosing not to speak my language! Luckily, I came to Avignon, lest I may have pegged all the French as snobby and pretentious as Parisians. Honestly, these people are very different. For instance, they smile, and every once in a while, when they expect no one is watching, they even laugh! Go figure.

My quest for a full stomach in Europe advances into virgin territory. Portions go from “reasonable, but small” in Spain, to “where is the rest of my order?” in France: “but you don't understand sir, you pay for the quality and presentation as well as the amount” - In an ideal world, I would be fed more fries rather than that horseshit. In fact, throw some horseshit on there, at least it will satisfy my hunger, and fill the rest of my plate. I will concede though, the food here is well prepared and full of flavor, but that is not going to stop the growling in my belly. I am beginning to rely heavily on picnic style meals in order to get the job done. These include bread, cheese, some sort of sliced meat, a few vegetables, and of course, wine. One gets these items at the rare and elusive supermarket. When located, these can be life savers, as the prices are only a little too high. Despite all it's aggravations, Avignon has been a great place to visit. The country side is gorgeous with it's rolling hills speckled with ruined castles, and the city itself is great to walk around and explore. Feeling comfortable and relaxed during ones stay is a perfect sign for an appropriate place to visit. Very well, on to Germany.