Belly Dancers

Woke to a magical new world where the waves are no more and the wind has died, leaving behind a sparkling blue never-ending sky and a becalmed river. Continued south towards Avignon in the quest for decent moorings.

Ancient Avignon loomed into sight, providing a horizon of honey coloured fortifications and golden statues. On the right bank and rising sheer from the water’s edge we could see a tower. Below it we spotted a pontoon with heavy duty piles (sounds painful) and an invitation to ring a number and arrange to moor there.  The number turned out to be the Tourist Board at Villeneuve les Avignon and they gave us permission to stay on the mooring for the princely sum of 40 euros. This seemed quite expensive, especially as we normally moor for free. However the promise of free water and electricity and the proximity to Avignon reeled us in.

Ten minutes after we moored - the Police turned up. They had been sent by the Tourist Office to turn on the water and electricity supplies and unlock the gate leading to the mooring. Obviously Villeneuve les Avignon was a well behaved town if the Police had time to do these duties.

Whilst Andy and Dan scratched their heads over the unusual water and power connections, Callum and I set off  in blazing sunshine to find the Tourist Office and pay our fee. We enjoyed the sights for a good hour : medieval arcades, hilltop castles, ramparts, winding narrow streets, deserted bars. But the one sight we failed to enjoy : signs leading to the Tourist Office. Finally found it hidden behind the travelling fair, paid the bill, requested better signage, picked up a map and found our way back to the mooring in ten minutes.

Decided it was Pimms O’clock.

Post Pimms we walked into Avignon and spent a relaxed evening walking around this city where the Popes had set up court in 1309.

The famous bridge of Avignon, which is now just four arches jutting out into the river, is a tourist trap. Despite its fame and its catchy tune, it seemed as though all its history had been cleaned away and it no longer truly looked its age. Besides – you have to pay to go onto it. We didn’t bother. Instead, to the irreverent chant of “ sur le pont d’Avignon, belly dancer, belly dancer…”, we marched up a spiral staircase to the Papal gardens where the views of the river and the city were breathtaking and the trees worthy of climbing.

Meandered through the city to the main square : the Place de l’Horloge. The boys had been working hard on their Roman projects and had earned giant ice-cream treats. Settled down to people watch and eat out and celebrate life together.

Splashed out on a family ticket for the big wheel as the sun was setting and enjoyed far-reaching views to the soundtrack of our boys’ delighted squeals.