A Stone's Throw: Avignon Day 1: From Paris to the Pope's Palace

I managed to catch my train at the Gare de Lyon in Paris, all the while mentally kicking myself for scheduling my departure at 7:45am. That, my friends, was a terrible idea. On top of that I was feeling a bit ill (probably caught what Dona had as well), so despite my best efforts to stay awake and enjoy the views of the French countryside unrolling before me, I passed out for most of the ride. C'est la vie. I woke up in Avignon, and thanks to the lessons learned from my rocky start in Paris, I had mapped out my route to my hostel beforehand and I had no trouble getting to it. It was halfway acoss the river from Avignon, on the Ile-de-Begatelle and my window faced the ancient walls of the city across the Rhone. I spent about 5 minutes contemplating what I should do with the day, before I popped an ibuprofen and took a nap for a few hours.
I woke to meet one of my roommates, a Spaniard named Jose who was an architect in London and is currently headed back to Spain to start his own company. We made plans to meet up later for a beer, and I took off to see some of the sights of Avignon. I managed to find my way through the winding streets to the Pope's Palace, which was built when a series of Popes made Avignon their home during some church troubles. It is a massive fortress, built to protect the northwestern border of the Papal Empire and the Popes themselves. I took a tour, which in addition to giving me quite a history lesson, also included a modern art exhibit being held in the castle. There were some weird pieces in that exhibit. After making my way through the maze of the fortress, I decided to try my luck at finding my way to the Pont de Avignon. This famous bridge was the first major bridge to cross the Rhone river, and eventually all but four spans collapsed. After I had payed the extra fee to see it, I realized I had just shelled out ten bucks to see a bridge that was famous because it failed at its one job. Being a bridge. I felt a bit like a sucker, but went in search anyways.
Making my way through the city, I wound up on the acropolis where I fought against the violent winds, only to realize that the entrance to the bridge from this direction was closed. I turned around and raced through the streets, making it to the entrance with only 15minutes before the bridge was to close for the day. The kind lady at the entrance gave me a ticket to let me come back the next day, so I strolled back into the city to meet up with Jose instead. We had a couple beers while he pointed out some interesting things he's seen in the city, and discussed the Spanish Euro crises. The city started to close down pretty early, around 9pm, so we headed back to our hostel for the night.

The abbey cloister of the Popes castle.

For my uncle Michael: Yes, the Pope had a pizza oven in his palace. No, it was not bigger or better than yours. Congratulations, you outdid the most powerful man in the world in his time. Thats pretty impressive haha.