From the minute we stepped off the platform in Avignon, we were swept up in the merriment and energy of the French version of South Africa's Grahamstown festival - the Avignon Festival.
The Avignon Festival was in full swing and the little medieval town was bulging out of its seams. It was at the height of summer and the evenings were gloriously endless - which was a blessing, as we got horribly lost within the myriad of little alleways - and we loved every minute of it. The more we had to walk, the more excuses we had to pause at all the cafes lining the streets. What's a girl to do?
The next morning, after breakfast consisting of enough pastries to fill a local patisserie, we collected our little Peugot from the rental agency and
headed (well.....crawled and bumped is more like it, as we found ourselves driving on the right side of the road - which gave us some close encounters with surrounding objects both moving and stagnant), further south into the heart of Provence to the town of Menerbes, a little hilltop village (perche villages) , where our little stone cottage was waiting patiently for us and which would be our private haven for the week to come. We couldn't wait.
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