Le Mistral Provençal

A band of assistants decided to head south for the weekend, in search of Roman ruins and warmer weather. We got the ruins, but instead of delightful Indian summer breezes, we got caught in the path of Provence's notorious mistral, a strong, wind that sweeps down from the northwest through the Rhône Valley, particularly cold and biting in the winter.

Between sightseeing, we made frequent/emergency stops for chocolats chauds/hot chocolate, making sure to warm our hands with the mugs. We met in Orange and headed to the Ancient Roman Theatre, one of Orange's biggest claim to fame. One of the benefits of going to Orange at the end of November was the lack of crowds. Besides us, there was one other couple roaming around the theatre. It was peaceful. The wind howled down the aisles and the clouds glided through the bright blue sky like cars driving down the street.

The Ancient Roman Theatre of Orange is one of three in the world that still have its stage wall.

The wealthy sat up front, while the lower classes of society sat in back and were therefore more boisterous. The acoustics were important so that everyone could hear. Also, the costumes, masks, makeup and colors that the actors wore were exaggerated so that everyone could see. Just like we enjoy Seinfeld and The Office today, the ancient audiences also preferred performances that focused on the simple humor of everyday life.

The head of the Emperor was detachable, so it could be changed when there was a change of emperor.

Les Palais de Papes, Avignon

Evidence of the mistral's power. No one really bothered to fix these plants.

Roofs of Avignon and Le Pont d'Avignon in the distance.

View of Les Palais des Papes from our "Bates Motel" hostel on the opposite side of the Rhône.

View of Le Pont d'Avignon (Le Pont Bénézet) from a park. The other half was destroyed in a massive flood and never rebuilt. Not many people had ventured out onto the bridge that day. The risk of being blown off was probably too high.

Here's the chorus of the famous song, "Sur le Pont d'Avignon"

Sur le pont d’Avignon

L'on y danse,

l'on y danse

Sur le pont d’Avignon

L'on y danse tous en rond

On the bridge of Avignon

We all dance there,

we all dance there

On the bridge of Avignon

We all dance there in a ring

I had gone to Avignon six years ago when I was studying abroad in Grenoble during college and our group had walked out onto the bridge. Our 85 year old Armenian professor had made us make a chain, sing and dance. At the time, I was recovering from food poisoning, so I hadn't put forth my best effort, but still danced.

It was nice to go back to both Orange and Avignon years later. Six years ago, the July weather had made us sluggish, sweaty, and (because of my food poisoning) a little delirious. The crowds were huge and it was difficult to see the city. But this time, with the cold Provençal winds clearing out the majority of tourists, both Avignon and Orange had a more local, peaceful feel.